"She had a young slave called Thisbe, handsome enough, and skilled in music. She, by her mistress's orders, put herself in my way; and though she had before frequently resisted solicitations, which, I own, I had made to her, she now made advances herself, in gestures, words, and behaviour. I, like a silly fellow as I was, began to be vain of my own attractions; and, in short, made an appointment with her to come to my apartment at night. We continued our commerce for some time, I always exhorting her to take the greatest care lest her mistress should detect her. When, one day, as I was repeating these cautions, she broke out, 'Ο Cnemon! how great is your simplicity, if you think it dangerous for a slave like me to be discovered with you. What would you think this very mistress deserves, who, calling herself of an honourable family, having a lawful husband, and knowing death to be the punishment of her crime, yet commits adultery?'--'Be silent,' I replied; 'I cannot give credit to what you say.'--'What if I show you the adulterer in the very fact?'--'If you can, do.'--'Most willingly will I,' says she, 'both on your account, who have been so abused by her, and on my own, who am the daily victim of her jealousy. If you are a man, therefore, seize her paramour.'--I promised I would, and she then left me. "The third night after this she awakened me from sleep, and told me that the adulterer was in the house; that my father, on some sudden occasion, was gone into the country, and that the lover had taken this opportunity of secretly visiting Demæneta. Now was the time for me to punish him as he deserved; and that I should go in, sword in hand, lest he should escape. "I did as Thisbe exhorted me; and taking my sword, she going before me with a torch, went towards my mother's bedchamber. When I arrived there, and perceived there was a light burning within, my passion rising, I burst open the door, and, rushing in, cried out, 'Where is the villain, the vile paramour of this paragon of virtue?' and thus exclaiming, I advanced, prepared to transfix them both, when my father, Ο ye gods! leaping from the bed, fell at my feet, and besought me, 'Ο my son! stay your hand, pity your father, and these grey hairs which have nourished you. I have used you ill, I confess, but not so as to deserve death from you. Let not passion transport you; do not imbrue your hands in a parent's blood!' "He was going on in this supplicatory strain, while I stood thunderstruck, without power either to speak or stir. I looked about for Thisbe, but she had withdrawn. I cast my eyes in amaze round the chamber, confounded and stupified: the sword fell from my hand.