“I hope he is invited at any rate.” “No! Aphrodisia is to be served up at the banquet as the last dish, after the fruit. Everybody will taste of it at pleasure, and it is only on the morrow that she is to be handed over to Cheres; but I am much afraid she will be tired . . .” “Don’t pity her. With him she will have time to recover. I know him, Seso. I have watched him sleep.” They laughed together at Cheres. Then they complimented one another. “You have a pretty robe,” said Seso. “Did you have it trimmed at home?” ill-006 Tryphera’s robe was of fine sea-green stuff entirely trimmed with flowering iris. A carbuncle set in gold gathered it up into a spindle-shaped pleat over the left shoulder; the robe fell slantingly between the two breasts, leaving the entire right side of her body naked down to the metal girdle; a narrow slit, that opened and closed at every step, alone revealed the whiteness of the leg. “Seso!” said another voice. “Seso and Tryphera, come with me if you don’t know what to do. I am going to the Ceramic Wall to see whether my name is written up.” “Mousarion! Where have you come from, my dear?” “From Pharos. There is nobody there.” “What do you mean? There is nothing to do but fish, it is so full.” “No turbots for me. I am off to the wall. Come.” On the way, Seso told them about the projected banquet at Bacchis’s over again. “Ah! at Bacchis’s!” cried Mousarion. “You remember the last dinner, Tryphera, and all the stories about Chrysis?” “You must not repeat them. Seso is her friend.” Mousarion bit her lips; but Seso had already taken the alarm. “What did they say about her?” “Oh! various ill-natured things.” “Let people talk,” declared Seso. “We three together are not worth Chrysis. The day she decides to leave her quarter and shew herself at Brouchion, I know of some of our lovers whom we shall never see again.” “Oh! Oh!” “Certainly. I would commit any folly for that woman. Be sure that there is none here more beautiful than she.” The three girls had now arrived in front of the Ceramic Wall. Inscriptions written in black succeeded one another along the whole length of its immense white surface. When a lover desired to present himself to a courtesan, he had merely to write up their two names, with the price he offered; if the man and the money were approved of, the woman remained standing under the notice until the lover re-appeared. “Look, Seso,” said Tryphera, laughing. “Who is the practical joker who has written that?” And they read in huge letters: BACCHIS THERSIES 2 OBOLS “It ought not to be allowed to make fun of the women like that. If I were the rhymarch, I should already have held an enquiry.” But further on, Seso stopped before an inscription more to the point: SESO OF CNIDOS TIMON THE SON OF LYSIAS 1 MINA She turned slightly pale. “I stay,” she said. And she leaned her back against the wall under the envious glances of the women that passed by.