Mopsus did not hasten to perform the errand.  He had first to help Dorippe cut the green branches, and, while thus engaged, sought pleasant gifts not only on the ground, but from his sweetheart’s red lips, then moved up the mountain with his donkey, very slowly, without urging the animal.  The latter carried one basket on the right and one on the left of its saddle, wore bright cock’s feathers on its head, and had a fiery-red bridle.  It looked gay enough in its finery, yet hung its head, though far less sorrowfully than its young driver, whom Semestre had exiled from his master’s house and the girl he loved.

He spent half an hour in reaching the sanctuary.

Old Jason, at the same time, was standing before the little grove beside the steps leading to the cella.

The worthy man cradled in his arms, as Dorippe had just done in Lysander’s house, a little squealing creature, and this, too, was a pig; but it wore no ribbon around its little tail and ears, was not particularly fat, and had numerous black spots under its scanty bristles and on its sharp snout.

The old man was gazing at the innocent creature by no means tenderly, but with the utmost indignation.  He had good reason to be angry, for the priest had not thought it fit for a sacrifice to the goddess, it was so poor in fat and full of bad marks.

Alas, and Jason had no second pig, and was so eager to win the goddess to Phaon’s cause.

As soon as he saw Semestre’s offering, he had hurried home to anticipate her with his own, and first win the goddess’s heart for his young master.

Now he stood considering whether he should strangle the unlucky creature, or carry it back to its mother.

Like a frugal steward, he decided upon the latter course, and, just as he was comparing the image of the lean, spotted animal with its future well-rounded condition, he heard the hoofs of the donkey driven by Mopsus, the heavy thud of a stick on the elastic flesh, and after every blow, the shout, “Semestre!”

Directly after Mopsus and his donkey reached the old man, and as the youth, without looking to the right or left, dealt the animal another thwack, again uttering the house-keeper’s name, and in connection with it a succession of harsh, abusive words, Jason looked at the young man with approval, nay, almost tenderly.

The latter usually shouted a loud “Joy be with you!” whenever he met the old man, but to-day answered his greeting only with a sorrowful nod and low murmur.

The steward had stepped in front of him, laid his hard hand on the donkey’s head, and asked: 

“Do you call your ass Semestre?” Mopsus blushed, and answered: 

“In future I shall call all she-asses that, but the old Megaera named this one Jason.”

“Why, see,” cried the steward, “how kindly the worthy woman remembers me!  But she, too, was not forgotten, for, whenever you lifted your stick, you thought, I should suppose, of her.”