Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English
“Then spirits appeared. By Sirius a queer business altogether! Medius
is in the midst of it all. I arranged the chorus and sang with them a
little. All I got for it was a little dirty silver--there! But as for
a lodging--free quarters!--there are none to be found here for anything
above an owl; and then there is the edict--that cursed edict!”
During this speech the younger man had exchanged meaning glances
with his mother. He now interrupted Karnis, saying in a tone of
encouragement:
“Never mind, father; we have something good in view.”
“You have?” said the old man with an incredulous shrug, while his wife
served him with a small roast chicken, on a stool which did duty for a
table.
“Yes father, we!” the lad went on, laying aside his knife. “You know we
vowed an offering to Dionysus for our escape, since he himself once fell
into the hands of pirates, so we went at once to his temple. Mother knew
the way; and as we--she, I mean, and Dada and myself...”
“Heh! what is this?” interrupted Karnis, now for the first time noticing
the dish before him. “A fowl--when we are so miserably poor? A whole
fowl, and cooked with oil?” He spoke angrily, but his wife, laying her
hand on his shoulder, said soothingly:
“We shall soon earn it again. Never a sesterce was won by fretting.
Enjoy to-day’s gifts and the gods will provide for to-morrow.”
“Indeed?” asked Karnis in an altered key. “To be sure when a roast fowl
flies into one’s mouth instead of a pigeon.... But you are right as
usual, Herse, as usual, only--here am I battening like a senator while
you--I lay a wager you have drunk nothing but milk all day and eaten
nothing but bread and radishes. I thought so? Then the chicken must
pretend to be a pheasant and you, wife, will eat this leg. The girls
are gone to bed? Why here is some wine too! Fill up your cup, boy. A
libation to the God! Glory to Dionysus!” The two men poured the libation
on the floor and drank; then the father thrust his knife into the breast
of the bird and began his meal with a will, while Orpheus, the son, went
on with his story:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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