We walked on. The crowd had greatly increased. The sun became more terrible in the midst of that vast plain, without a shadow, and in the midst of a great and mixed concourse of people. Artemidora was dressed in a white tunic, girdle, and veil. She often turned to look at us, and it seemed to me that when properly robed she seemed to be another person. Her face acquired another expression, and she seemed anxious to glean from one of us which was to be the man she was fated to surrender to. Already we had been through half the principal street when Parrhasius stopped, and said-- “No. That for which I seek is not here. The youth of the body and the beauty of the face are not found together. I have more chance, I think, of finding my man among slaves of the second class.” Scarcely had we gone three more paces when he extended his hand, and cried out, “Behold him!” I drew near and gazed with curiosity. The man whom he pointed to was about fifty years of age. Of a fine, tall figure and excellent proportions, he had a large face; the arch of the brows was powerful and muscular, the nose and ears were correctly modelled, hair grey, but beard brown and brindled. The strong muscles of the neck formed a sort of pedestal to his fine head, and gave it a pose of authority. Parrhasius questioned him. “What do you call yourself?” “Outis.” “I do not ask you for anything, my brave man, but the name that you received from your father.” “For a month past I have called myself Outis. If I have ever borne another, older name it does not please me to tell you.” “Why not?” “It does not please me to tell you why, Son of a Dog.” Parrhasius became maddened with anger. The seller of the slaves, alarmed, advanced with suppliant arms. “Do not listen to him, my lord. He speaks as one who has lost his senses. It is pure malice on his part, for he has more brain-power than I have. He is a physician. For science and cleverness he had not his equal in all Olynthus. I say what all the world would repeat, for he was celebrated even in Macedon. People have told me that during thirty years he has cured more Olynthians than we were able to kill when we took their city. This will be a precious slave when he is chained and has felt the rod. He plays the insolent, but he will change his tone, as all the others will or have done. Then, if you lead him away with you, Death will not come to you till your hundredth winter! Give me thirty drachmas, and this Nicostratus will be your thing for ever.” “Nicostratus,” repeated Parrhasius to me; “as a poet I know one of that name. My indifference is total towards the science of medicine.” Turning towards the seller he ordered-- “Remove his clothes.” Nicostratus let this be done, powerless and yet disdainful. Parrhasius continued to command that the captive take up first one position and then another. At last the bargain was struck. Parrhasius then said, “Superb!” But I did not reply, for I felt almost envious.