Setos was fatally weak with women. He knew it, and alternately made love to, or abused, them. “The finger of Time has failed to touch thee,” he replied, removing his conical hat, and holding it across his stomach with both hands, “nor hast thou forgotten the offices of speech.” Rahula, who had risen, made the usual sign of submission with her long, thin fingers. As she looked intently from father to child, she quickly discerned that Ildiko’s pink countenance was puckered into a frown. “Has the little weaver, Ildiko, told thee of her latest success at the loom?” she asked with fine tact. Ildiko made a motion of dissent, and laid her forefinger across her upper lip. None knew better than she that silence was impossible. It suited her evasive disposition to make mystery of the most trivial circumstance; she was in reality delighted with the sensation she was making. Many of the shop-keepers and some of the passers-by gathered to examine the roll of fine, gossamer-silk tissue, which Rahula adroitly drew out of the perfumed pocket held in her hand. Setos may be forgiven the glow of pride and satisfaction with which he surveyed the product. At this moment Ildiko reached over and picked up the identical jeweled coffer which she had in mind when she went in search of her father. To the feminine eye her coveting was entirely justified, and when she managed to bring the dainty bauble between the silken veil and Setos’s focus of vision, he was still smiling in a pleased manner. She leaned on him affectionately, and said in a coaxing tone: “The water-lily design set with brilliants was my idea. I got the suggestion from the pond in our garden, when the fountain left a fine spray like dewdrops in the heart of the lilies growing there. Dost thou see thy favorite rushes in the twisted lines on the mouth and handles?” Setos could hold out no longer. “Must I find thee a golden chain for support?” he queried, half petulantly. History fails to record why a certain type of man always finds fault with what he knows in his soul he must do for his women-folk. Setos was troubled with that “little nearness” which has rendered the Scotch of later times famous. “If the chief of the merchants’ guild will send some of his excellent wine of maguey in exchange, we vendors of sweet odors will be content. A chain, which we can procure from our neighbors, the artificers in gold, will be included in the purchase price.” Setos was about to conclude the transaction, when Rahula said: “Alcamayn has confided to me his intention of making a chain of special design, which he will present to Ildiko, with consent of Setos.” Without further parley Setos led the way out of the stalls. When he halted, it was in front of a booth where his beloved wine of maguey was kept in abundance. There was a private entrance to the enclosure through which Setos passed, followed by the two women.