“Such a ruddy glow as this,” said Irene, “forebodes great heat, storms, and perhaps heavy rain, so the gatekeeper says; and he is always with the astrologers who observe the stars and the signs in the heavens from the towers near the temple-gates.  He is poor little Philo’s father.  I wanted to bring Klea with me, for she knows more about our parents than I do; but he begged me not to call her away, for the child’s throat is almost closed up, and if it cries much the physician says it will choke, and yet it is never quiet but when it is lying in Klea’s arms.  She is so good—­and she never thinks of herself; she has been ever since midnight till now rocking that heavy child on her lap.”

“We will talk with her presently,” said the Corinthian.  “But to-day it was for your sake that I came; you have such merry eyes, and your little mouth looks as if it were made for laughing, and not to sing lamentations.  How can you bear being always in that shut up dungeon with all those solemn men in their black and white robes?”

There are some very good and kind ones among them.  I am most fond of old Krates, he looks gloomy enough at every one else; but with me only he jokes and talks, and he often shows me such pretty and elegantly wrought things.”

“Ah!  I told you just now you are like the rosy dawn before whom all darkness must vanish.”

“If only you could know how thoughtless I can be, and how often I give trouble to Klea, who never scolds me for it, you would be far from comparing me with a goddess.  Little old Krates, too, often compares me to all sorts of pretty things, but that always sounds so comical that I cannot help laughing.  I had much rather listen to you when you flatter me.”

“Because I am young and youth suits with youth.  Your sister is older, and so much graver than you are.  Have you never had a companion of your own age whom you could play with, and to whom you could tell everything?”

“Oh! yes when I was still very young; but since my parents fell into trouble, and we have lived here in the temple, I have always been alone with Klea.  What do you want to know about my father?”

“That I will ask you by-and-by.  Now only tell me, have you never played at hide and seek with other girls?  May you never look on at the merry doings in the streets at the Dionysiac festivals?  Have you ever ridden in a chariot?”

“I dare say I have, long ago—­but I have forgotten it.  How should I have any chance of such things here in the temple?  Klea says it is no good even to think of them.  She tells me a great deal about our parents—­how my mother took care of us, and what my father used to say.  Has anything happened that may turn out favorably for him?  Is it possible that the king should have learned the truth?  Make haste and ask your questions at once, for I have already been too long out here.”

The impatient steeds neighed again as she spoke, and Lysias, to whom this chat with Irene was perfectly enchanting, but who nevertheless had not for a moment lost sight of his object, hastily pointed to the spot where his horses were standing, and said: