“Indeed we do!” he exclaimed, so vehemently that the others looked round, and old Damia again began to fidget in her chair.

Then with a strong effort he recovered himself and, after standing for some minutes gazing in silence at the ground, he said in a low tone: 

“I have borne enough for to-day.  Gorgo, pause, reflect.  God preserve me from despair!”

He bowed, hastily explained that his duties called him away, and left the spot.

CHAPTER XIII.

The amateurs of horse-racing who assembled in the Hippodrome could afford no clue to Dada’s hiding-place, because she had not, in fact, run away with any gay young gallant.  Within a few minutes of her sending Sachepris to fetch her a pair of shoes, Medius had hailed her from the shore; he wanted to speak with Karnis, and having come on an ass it was not in vain that the incensed damsel entreated him to take her with him.  He had in fact only come to try to persuade Karnis and his wife to spare Dada for a few performances, such as he had described, in the house of Posidonius.  His hopes of success had been but slender; and now the whole thing had settled itself, and Dada’s wish that her people should not, for a while, know where to find her was most opportune for his plans.

In the days when Karnis was the manager of the theatre at Tauromenium Medius had led the chorus, and had received much kindness at the hands of the girl’s uncle.  All this, he thought, he could now repay, for certainly his old patron was poor enough, and he intended honestly to share with his former benefactor the profits he expected to realize with so fair a prodigy as Dada.  No harm could come to the girl, and gold—­ said he to himself—­glitters as brightly and is just as serviceable, even when it has been earned for us against our will.

Medius, being a cautious man, made the girl bring her new dress away with her, and the girdle and jewels belonging to it, and his neat hands packed everything into the smallest compass.  He filled up the basket which he took for the purpose with sweetmeats, oranges and pomegranates “for the children at home,” and easily consoled Dada for the loss of her shoes.  He would lead the ass and she should ride.  She covered her face with a veil, and her little feet could be hidden under her dress.  When they reached his house he would at once have “a sweet little pair of sandals” made for her by the shoemaker who worked for the wife of the Comes and the daughters of the Alabarch—­[The chief of the Jewish colony in Alexandria.]—­These preparations and the start only took a few minutes; and their rapid search and broken conversation caused so much absurd confusion that Dada had quite recovered her spirits and laughed merrily as she tripped bare-foot across the strand.  She sprang gaily on to the little donkey and as they made their way along the road, the basket containing her small wardrobe placed in front of her on the ass’s shoulders, she remarked that she should be mistaken for the young wife of a shabby old husband, returning from market with a load of provisions.