“Ah! . . . Neither do I wish for a common ivory comb bought at a tradesman’s in the town. You told me I might choose, did you not? Well, I want . . . I want the carved ivory comb in the hair of the wife of the high priest. It is much more valuable than the mirror of Rhodopis. It came from a queen of Egypt who lived a long time ago, and whose name is so difficult that I cannot pronounce it. Consequently the ivory is very old, and as yellow as if it were gilded. It has a carved figure of a young girl walking in a lotus-marsh. The lotus is higher than she is, and she is stepping on tiptoe in order not to get wet. . . . . It is really a beautiful comb. I am glad you are going to give it to me. I have also some little grievances against its present possessor. I had offered a blue veil to Aphrodite last month; I saw it on this woman’s head next day. It was a little hasty, and I bore her a grudge for it. Her comb will avenge me for my veil.” “And how am I to get it?” asked Demetrios. “Ah! that will be a little more difficult. She is an Egyptian, you know, and she makes up her two hundred plaits only once a year, like the other women of her race. But I want my comb to-morrow, and you must kill her to get it. You have sworn an oath.” She pouted at Demetrios, who was looking on the ground. Then she concluded very quickly: “I have chosen my necklace also. I want the seven-stringed pearl necklace on the neck of Aphrodite.” Demetrios started violently. “Ah! this time, it is too much! You shall not have the laugh of me to the end! Nothing, do you understand? neither the mirror, nor the comb, nor the collar.” But she closed his mouth with her hand and resumed her caressing tone: ill-015 _But she closed his mouth with her hand._