However, I finally persuaded him to go with me; and at the same time pulling off one of my own garments, I speedily clothed him, or at any rate covered him.  I next took him to a bath, scrubbed and oiled him myself, and laboriously rubbed the matted dirt off him.  Having done all I could, though tired out myself, I supported his feeble steps, and with great difficulty brought him to my inn.  There I made him lie down on a bed, gave him plenty of food, braced him up with wine, and entertained him with the news of the day.  Pretty soon our conversation took a merry turn; we cracked jokes, and grew noisy as we chattered.  All of a sudden, heaving a bitter sigh from the bottom of his chest, and striking his forehead violently with his right hand, he said:—­

“Miserable wretch that I am, to have got into such a predicament while having a good time at a gladiatorial show!  As you know, I went to Macedonia on business; it took me ten months; I was on my way home with a very neat sum of money, and had nearly reached Larissa, which I included in my route in order to see the show I mentioned, when I was attacked by robbers in a lonely valley, and only escaped after losing everything I had.  In my distress I betook myself to a certain woman named Meroe, who kept a tavern (and who, though rather old, was very good-looking), and told her about my long absence, my earnest desire to reach home, and my being robbed that very day.  She treated me with the greatest kindness, gave me a good supper for nothing, and then let me make love to her.  But from the very moment that I was such a fool as to dally with her, my mind seemed to desert me.  I even gave her the clothes which the robbers in common decency had left me, and the little earnings I made there by working as cloakmaker so long as I was in good physical condition; until at length this kind friend, and bad luck together, reduced me to the state you just now found me in.”

“By Pollux, then,” said I, “you deserve to suffer the very worst misfortunes (if there be anything worse than the worst), for having preferred a wrinkled old reprobate to your home and children.”

“Hush! hush!” said he, putting his forefinger on his lips, and looking round with a terror-stricken face to see if we were alone.  “Beware of reviling a woman skilled in the black art, for fear of doing yourself a mischief.”

“Say you so?” said I.  “What kind of a woman is this innkeeper, so powerful and dreadful?”

“She is a sorceress,” he replied, “and possessed of magic powers; she can draw down the heavens, make the earth heave, harden the running water, dissolve mountains, raise the shades of the dead, dethrone the gods, extinguish the stars, and set the very depths of Tartarus ablaze!”

“Come, come!” said I:  “end this tragic talk, fold up your theatrical drop-scenes, and let us hear your story in every-day language.”