It was in Greek, in the childish, awkward hand of Artemisia, and ran as follows:—­

“Artemisia to her dear, dear Agias.  I never wrote a letter before, and you must excuse the blunders in this.  I don’t know how to begin to tell you the dreadful thing that may happen to me.  I will try and stop crying, and write it out just as it all happened.  The day before yesterday Pratinas took me to the circus, where I enjoyed the racing very much.  While we were sitting there, a very fine gentleman—­at least he had purple stripes on his tunic and ever so many rings—­came and sat down beside us.  Pratinas told me that this gentleman was Lucius Calatinus, who was a great lord, but a friend of his.  I tried to say something polite to Calatinus, but I didn’t like him.  He seemed coarse, and looked as though he might be cruel at times.  He talked to me something the way you have talked—­said I was pretty and my voice sounded very sweet.  But I didn’t enjoy these things from him, I can hardly tell why—­though I’m delighted to hear you say them.  Well, after quite a while he went away, and I didn’t think anything more about him for a time, and yesterday you know how happy I was when you visited me.  Only a little while after you left, Pratinas came back.  I could see that he had something on his mind, although he said nothing.  He seemed uneasy, and kept casting sidelong glances at me, which made me feel uncomfortable.  I went up to him, and put my arms around his neck.  ‘Dear uncle,’ I said, ‘what is troubling you to-night?’ ‘Nothing,’ he answered, and he half tried to take my arms away.  Then he said, ‘I was thinking how soon I was to go back to Alexandria.’  ’To Alexandria!’ I cried, and I was just going to clap my hands when I thought that, although Alexandria was a far nicer place than Rome, you could not go with us, and so I felt very sorry.  Then Pratinas spoke again in a hard, cold voice he has never used to me before.  ’Artemisia, I must tell you now the truth about yourself.  I have let you call me uncle, and have tried to be kind to you.  But you cannot come back to Alexandria with me.  The day after to-morrow Calatinus, the gentleman you met at the circus yesterday, will come and take you away.  He is a very rich man, and if you please him will give you everything you desire.’  I couldn’t understand at all what he meant, and cried out, ’But, uncle, I don’t like Calatinus, and you—­you don’t really mean to leave me behind?’ ‘You little donkey,’ said Pratinas, laughing, oh! so heartlessly, ’I’m not your uncle.  You’ve been my slave, and I’ve sold you to Calatinus; so don’t quarrel with him, but learn to like him quickly.’  I don’t remember what he said or I said next.  I was so frightened and grieved that I don’t know what I did.  I know Pratinas finally whipped me, something he never did before.  I went to bed feeling so sore, that I could not get really to sleep, but dreadful visions of Calatinus kept frightening me.  I don’t know which grieves me most, to know I am a slave, to know that Pratinas is not my uncle and does not love me, or to be about to be sold to Calatinus.  Dear Sesostris has done all he can to console me, but that’s very little; and so, very early this morning, I’ve written to you, Agias, just as soon as Pratinas left the house, for I am sure that you, who are so clever and wise, can see some way to get me out of my dreadful trouble.”