"Give it for half a drachma a goblet, and we will taste it," said one of the merchants. "Half a drachma!" repeated the host. "Sooner will the Nile flow upward toward Thebes than I give such sweetness for half a drachma, unless I do it for thee, Lord Belezis, who art the pearl of Sidon. Hei, slaves! bring to our benefactors the largest pitcher of wine from Cyprus." When the innkeeper had walked on, the merchant named Belezis said to his companions,-- "May my hand wither if that wine is worth half a drachma! But never mind! We shall have less trouble with the police hereafter." Conversation with guests of all nations and conditions did not prevent the host from looking at the scribes who noted down food and drink, at the watchman who stared at the scribes and the servants, and above all at a traveller who had seated himself on cushions in the front gallery, with his feet under him, and who was dozing over a handful of dates and a goblet of pure water. That traveller was about forty years old, he had abundant hair and beard of raven color, thoughtful eyes, and wonderfully noble features which seemed never to have been wrinkled by anger or distorted by fear. "That is a dangerous rat!" thought the innkeeper, frowning. "He has the look of a priest, but he wears a dark coat. He has left gold and jewels with me to the value of a talent, and he neither eats meat nor drinks wine. He must be a great prophet or a very great criminal." Two naked serpent-tamers came into the courtyard bearing a basket full of poisonous reptiles, and began their exhibition. The younger one played on a flute, while the elder wound around his body snakes big and little, any one of which would have sufficed to drive away guests from the inn "Under the Ship." The flute-player gave out shriller and shriller notes; the serpent-tamer squirmed, foamed at the mouth, quivered convulsively, and irritated the reptiles till one of them bit him on the hand, another on the face, while he swallowed alive a third one, the smallest. The guests and the servants looked at the exhibition of the serpent-tamer with alarm. They trembled when he irritated the reptiles, they closed their eyes when they bit him; but when the performer swallowed one of the snakes, they howled with delight and wonder. The traveller in the front gallery, however, did not leave his cushions, he did not deign even to look at the exhibition. But when the tamer approached for pay, he threw to the pavement two copper utens, giving a sign with his hand not to come nearer.