When the Egyptian leader saw Daphne with the maidens who had already agreed to make the venture, he first of all seemed astonished at her radiant beauty and her composure of manner, and then said:— “We had completed the number of those whom we would take, but come thou too if thou wilt, for thou art a goddess-queen amongst the others.” But she answered—“It seems as if ye wished to take advantage of our terror and steal us away for slaves, for your tale is difficult to believe. Ye boast yourselves to be Greeks, but many tribes of Grecians have I seen, and none with features and hair like yours; and ye speak not Greek to one another, and the language thou thyself speakest seems learned from the books of old poets, and not thy mother’s tongue.” Then the leader replied—“These men are my servants, and through dwelling long among strangers our appearance has changed.” And Daphne had from the first been constrained to admit that his countenance seemed much more noble and kingly than the rest; but she said, “Give me some sign that these are thy servants. Why does that man,” pointing to one of them, “sneer at me and laugh so immoderately?” Then the leader said, “Here is a sign for thee.” And going up to the man, he struck him full in the face, and the blood started from his lips, and the man fell as one dead, yet none of his companions said a word. Then Daphne believed in his authority, but she was alarmed by his violence and turned to go. But he said to her— “Wilt thou indeed go back to a loathsome death when life and honour and riches are open to thee? Wouldst thou through silly fear become like him?” and he pointed to a man at a little distance writhing in the agony of the plague. “I can save thee if thou wilt. See, the plague has no terror for me.” Then he went up to the sick man and took him by the hand, and looked steadfastly in his face and said, “Thou art fortunate—thou wilt not die of this disease.” And another plague-stricken wretch near him begged with parched lips for water, but he said, “Too late!” and turned to Daphne. “Take care it is not too late for thee! We have already more than enough who are willing to go. Still it vexes me to leave the loveliest to black death, and to save others. What more dost thou desire to know or to make me promise?” and he seemed to speak and look in a more kindly manner than before. And suddenly through Daphne’s mind there flashed the words of the poet, “Rather would I live on earth as the hireling of another with a landless man who had no great livelihood, than bear sway among all the dead that be departed.” Then she said, “Promise me one thing. Swear to me by thy strongest oath, and I will go. Swear to me if, when I reach thy country, I like it not, thou wilt send me back unharmed either to Athens or to some Greek city which has escaped the pestilence.”