There were about forty-five thousand people. The slave-market to dispose of these had been on about two days and might last for three months. Also the city was thronged, full of strangers--purchasers and people suffering from curiosity. My interlocutor who was a dealer in wines did not complain, but he confided to me that his neighbour who sold slaves as a rule very dear was ruined. I heard the tavern-keeper say with many gestures: “Consider, a Thracian of twenty years of age one knows what he is worth, by all the Gods. When one has bought twelve to cultivate land one counts twelve bags of gold. Now mark the price, it has fallen to fifty drachmas. Judge of the others by that only. Such a thing has never been heard of. There are three thousand virgins for sale. They will go for twenty-five drachmas apiece, and please do not think that I speak rashly on the subject. Perhaps a few drachmas more may be got for those of the whitest skins. Ah! Philip is a great king indeed!” This man wearied me and I separated from him and followed the multitude beyond the open gates of the city to the vast stretch of country where the Olynthians were camped. With great pains I wore myself a way through the many groups in movement. Suddenly I saw pass near me a procession that was extravagant and majestical. Before it the crowds parted to left and right. Six Sarmatian slaves advanced in pairs, armed. Behind them a little Ethiopian held horizontally a long cross of cedar decorated with gold. It was the stick of the Master. Finally, gigantic and heavy, crowned with flowers, the beard impregnated with perfumes and clad in an enormous purple robe, I saw Parrhasius himself. He walked as though he scorned and spurned the earth beneath his feet. Each arm was around the shoulders of a beautiful girl. He was like the Indian Bacchus. His eyes fell upon me and he said-- “If you are not Bryaxis who gave you permission to bear his face?” “And you. If you are not the son of Semele who has given you that Dionysiac stature and that robe of purple woven by the Graces of Naxos?” He then smiled upon me, and without lifting his arms away from their charming supports he seized and shook my hand, pressing it against the bared breast of one of his companions. “Chariclo,”--this to the young girl upon his right,--“take an arm of my friend and let us continue our promenade. Soon the sun will become too fierce to be pleasant.” We therefore as he wished went on enlaced. Parrhasius walked with a grand heavy balancing of the body, measured and pompous as an hexameter, the little steps of the women were as a dactyl. In a few words he inquired of my works and my life. At each of my responses he said with vivid words, “Yes. I understand perfectly.” He wished to cut short any lengthy speech. Then he began to speak of himself.