“You are right,” replied Semestre, who had only understood a few of the old man’s words; “people ought to be grateful for a warm fire; but why, at your age, do you go out so early, dressed only in your chiton, without cloak or sandals, at a season when the buds have scarcely opened on the trees.  You people yonder are different from others in many respects, but you ought not to go without a hat, Jason; your hair is as white as mine.”

“And wholly gone from the crown,” replied the old man, laughing.  “It’s more faithful to you women; I suppose out of gratitude for the better care you bestow.  I need neither hat, cloak, nor sandals!  An old countryman doesn’t fear the morning chill.  When a boy, I was as white as your master’s little daughter, the fair-faced Xanthe, but now head, neck, arms, legs, every part of me not covered by the woolen chiton, is brown as a wine-skin before it’s hung up in the smoke, and the dark hue is like a protecting garment, nay better, for it helps me bear not only cold, but heat.  There’s nothing white about me now, except the beard on my chin, the scanty hair on my head, and, thank the gods, these two rows of sound teeth.”

Jason, as he spoke, passed his hard, brown finger over the upper and then the under row of his teeth; but the housekeeper, puckering her mouth in the attempt to hide many a blemish behind her own lips, answered: 

“Your teeth are as faithful to you as our hair is to us, for men know how to use them more stoutly than women.  Now show what you can do.  We have a nice curd porridge, seasoned with thyme, and some dried lamb for breakfast.  If the girl hurries, you needn’t wait long.  Every guest, even the least friendly, is welcome to our house.”

“I didn’t come here to eat,” replied the old man; “I’ve had my breakfast.  There’s something on my mind I would like to discuss with the clever house-keeper, nay, I ought to say the mistress of this house, and faithful guardian of its only daughter.”

Semestre turned her wrinkled face towards the old man, opened her eyes to their widest extent, and then called eagerly to Dorippe, who was busied about the hearth, “We want to be alone!”

The girl walked slowly toward the door, and tried to conceal herself behind the projecting pillars to listen, but Semestre saw her, rose from her seat, and drove her out of doors with her myrtle-staff, exclaiming: 

“Let no one come in till I call.  Even Xanthe must not interrupt us.”

“You won’t stay alone, for Aphrodite and all the Loves will soon join such a pair,” cried the girl, as she sprang across the threshold, banging the door loudly behind her.

“What did she say?” asked Semestre, looking suspiciously after the maiden.  The vexations one has to endure from those girls, Jason, can’t be described, especially since they’ve grown deaf.”

“Deaf?” asked the old man in astonishment.

“Yes, they scarcely understand a word correctly, and even Xanthe, who has just reached her seventeenth year, is beginning to be hard of hearing.”