“Well,” said one of the four, pursuing the narrative of an interview which he had just been having with Lysias, “we had a long debate about terms. The Governor was quite firm about one thing: there must be no picking and choosing. ‘No,’ he said, ‘either you buy them all, or they shall be put up in the open market.’ ‘But what,’ I said, ‘am I to do with the old and the weak?’ ‘And what am I to do with them?’ he answered. ‘No; you must buy them all or none.’ There I could not move him. He could not be bothered with detail. For so many prisoners, so many talents, half paid down, half six months credit. Old men and women at their last gasp, and new-born babes were all to be counted in. Those were his terms and I had to accept them, or we should not have come to an agreement.” “That does not seem a good bargain,” interrupted another member of the company. “Wait a moment,” said the first speaker, “till you hear the price. I think you will agree that there is no reason to complain. At first he wanted a talent(11) for every fifty. That of course was out of the question on the ‘take-all’ terms, and I told our friend so quite plainly. ‘No,’ I said, ‘a talent for every hundred is about the right price, and even then we may very well lose,’ which, you will allow, was sailing very near the wind indeed. Well, we had a long argument. First he would meet me half way. But I held out. You know they _must_ have money. There is Antiochus—the ‘Glorious’ they call him—gone off to Persia on a wild goose chase after some treasures he has heard of. I’ll wager that he’ll spend more than he gets by a long way. I have friends at Court, and they tell me that the treasury is as empty as—well, we’ll say a wine jar, after our friend Nicias there has had it at his mouth for a minute. So I was firm. And at last—to make a long story short—we came to terms at a talent for ninety. And I can’t help thinking that it is not by any means a bad bargain.” “And what are we to do with the worthless ones?” said one of the dealers. “Surely having to keep them will take all the shine off our profits.” “Keeping them! Who talks about keeping them? We shall only have to bury them, and that does not cost very much. You have not been long in the trade, my good friend, and you don’t know how soon their food seems to disagree with the poor wretches whom we can’t sell.” He smiled an evil smile, and the others burst out into a laugh, in which, however, the young man who “had not been long in the trade” did not join. “And what becomes of all the money?” said one of the dealers, who had hitherto taken no part in the conversation. “Well, a part will be wanted for present expenses, pay of the troops, stores, and so forth; and that is to be paid in gold. But the greater part has to go to Rome—the King, you know, owes a great deal on the indemnity account. For that we shall find bills of exchange.” “Most of the money, then, is to go to Rome?”