Actæon mingled with the starving crowd searching for Sónnica. He found her surrounded by Lachares and the young gallants. Near them stood Euphobias, smiling at Sónnica, but not venturing to approach. "The gods have protected you on your journey, Actæon," said the parasite. "You look better than we who have remained in the city. One can plainly see that you have fed." "But you, philosopher," said the Greek, "are not so lean and emaciated as the others. Who maintains you?" "My poverty. I was so accustomed to hunger in times of plenty that now I scarcely notice the famine. Observe the advantages of being a philosopher and a beggar!" "Trust not the words of that monster," said Lachares with repugnance. "He is as beastly as a Celtiberian. He eats daily; but he should be crucified in the middle of the Forum as a warning. He has been seen at night wandering near the walls with a band of slaves in search of dying men." The Greek turned from the parasite with disgust. "Do not believe it, Actæon," said Euphobias. "Now they envy me my beggar's parsimony, as in other times they jeered at it. Hunger is my ancient companion, and she respects me." All drew away from the parasite, and Actæon followed Sónnica to her house. The beautiful Greek woman was living almost alone. Many of her servants had been killed on the walls; others had perished in the streets, victims of pestilence. Some slaves, unable to resist the torments of hunger, had run away to the besieging camp. Two aged slave-women lay groaning in a corner, amidst stacks of luxurious furniture and chests filled with riches. The great warehouses in the lower story were empty. A gang of boys had taken possession, and passed the time watching cat-like in hopes of some stray rat issuing from a corner, that they might fall upon it as an animal of inestimable value. "Tell me of Rhanto!" the Greek said to his beloved. "Poor child! I see her only occasionally. She will not stay here; I have her brought to me so that I can watch over her, but at the first opportunity she slips away. Grief over Erotion's death has caused her to lose her reason. Day and night she wanders along the walls. She goes where the battle rages fiercest, and she passes among flying missiles as if she does not see them. By night I hear from afar the strange dirges which she chants to her Erotion; sometimes she appears crowned with a wreath of those flowers which grow on the walls, and she asks for the son of Mopsus, as if he were hidden among the defenders. The people believe that she is in communication with the gods, and they look upon her with awe and ask her what will be the fate of Saguntum." The two spent the night amidst the piled up riches in the warehouse wrapped in costly tapestries, insensible to their surroundings, as if they were still in the rich villa on the domain, at the end of one of those banquets which had so scandalized many of the Saguntines.