“Naucrates wishes to speak to you. I told him that you were engaged.” “Oh, how foolish! Most certainly I will see him. I am not engaged. Come in, Naucrates. I am in my chamber.” She went back to bed. Naucrates remained for a moment at the door as if he feared to be indiscreet. The two girls, who were musicians, opened their sleepy eyes but could not rend themselves from their dreams. “Sit down,” said Chrysis. “There need be no false modesty between us two. I know that you have not come to see me. What do you want?” Naucrates was a well-known philosopher who for more than twenty years had been the lover of Bacchis and had not deceived her, though more from indolence than fidelity be it said. His grey hair was cut short, his beard was pointed after the manner of Demosthenes and his moustaches were even with his lips. He wore a great white woollen robe. “I have brought you an invitation,” he said. “Bacchis is giving a dinner to-morrow to be followed by a fête. We shall be seven including yourself. Be sure you come.” “A fête? What is the occasion?” “She has given freedom to her most beautiful slave Aphrodisia. There will be dancers and musicians. I think your two friends are engaged to be there, and ought not to be here now. They are at this moment rehearsing at Bacchis’ house.” “Oh! that is right,” Rhodis cried, “we had forgotten it. Arise, Myrto, we are very late.” But Chrysis declared-- “No! not yet! It is too bad to take away my friends. If I had suspected I should not have admitted you. Oh! they are dressed already!” “Our dresses are not very elaborate,” the girl answered. “We are not beautiful enough to spend much time over our toilettes.” “Shall I then see you at the temple at some hour to-morrow?” Chrysis asked them. “Yes, to-morrow morning, we shall take doves as our offering. I am taking a drachma from your purse, Chrysis. We shall not otherwise have the money to purchase them. Good-bye till to-morrow.” They ran out. Naucrates gazed for some time at the door which had closed behind them, then he rose, saying-- “Can I tell Bacchis that she may reckon upon you?” “I will come,” Chrysis replied. The philosopher bowed to her and slowly departed. As soon as he had gone Chrysis clasped her hands and spoke aloud although she was alone. “Bacchis, Bacchis, he comes from her and does not know. Is the mirror then still in her possession? Demetrios has forgotten me. If he has hesitated on the first day, I am lost, he will do nothing. But it is quite possible that he has obtained it. Bacchis has other mirrors which she uses more often. Without a doubt she has not found out yet. Ye Gods! Ye Gods! there is no way of finding out. Ah! Djala! Djala!” The slave entered. “Give me my dice. I wish to throw them,” Chrysis said. She tossed in the air the four dice. “Oh! oh! Djala, look!”