When she had heard the smith’s words, “Deceit is deceit,” she felt her heart shrink as from a stab, and could not check the tears which started to her eyes, unused as they were to weeping; but as soon as she had repeated the stern verdict with her own lips her tears had ceased, and now she stood looking at the temple like a traveller who takes leave of a dear friend; she was excited, she breathed more freely, drew herself up taller, and then turned her back on the sanctuary of Serapis, proudly though with a sore heart.

Close to the gate-keeper’s lodge a child came tottering towards her with his arms stretched up to her.  She lifted him up, kissed him, and then asked the mother, who also greeted her, for a piece of bread, for her hunger was becoming intolerable.  While she ate the dry morsel the child sat on her lap, following with his large eyes the motion of her hand and lips.  The boy was about five years old, with legs so feeble that they could scarcely support the weight of his body, but he had a particularly sweet little face; certainly it was quite without expression, and it was only when he saw Klea coming that tiny Philo’s eyes had lighted up with pleasure.

“Drink this milk,” said the child’s mother, offering the young girl an earthen bowl.  “There is not much and I could not spare it if Philo would eat like other children, but it seems as if it hurt him to swallow.  He drinks two or three drops and eats a mouthful, and then will take no more even if he is beaten.”

“You have not been beating him again?” said Klea reproachfully, and drawing the child closer to her.  “My husband—­” said the woman, pulling at her dress in some confusion.  “The child was born on a good day and in a lucky hour, and yet he is so puny and weak and will not learn to speak, and that provokes Pianchi.”

“He will spoil everything again!” exclaimed Klea annoyed.  “Where is he?”

“He was wanted in the temple.”

“And is he not pleased that Philo calls him ‘father,’ and you ‘mother,’ and me by my name, and that he learns to distinguish many things?” asked the girl.

“Oh, yes of course,” said the woman.  “He says you are teaching him to speak just as if he were a starling, and we are very much obliged to you.”

“That is not what I want,” interrupted Klea.  “What I wish is that you should not punish and scold the boy, and that you should be as glad as I am when you see his poor little dormant soul slowly waking up.  If he goes on like this, the poor little fellow will be quite sharp and intelligent.  What is my name, my little one?”

“Ke-ea,” stammered the child, smiling at his friend.  “And now taste this that I have in my hand; what is it?—­I see you know.  It is called—­ whisper in my ear.  That’s right, mil—­mil-milk! to be sure, my tiny, it is milk.  Now open your little mouth and say it prettily after me—­ once more—­and again—­say it twelve times quite right and I will give you a kiss—­Now you have earned a pretty kiss—­will you have it here or here?  Well, and what is this? your ea-?  Yes, your ear.  And this?—­your nose, that is right.”