alert glance. A Plutarch every bit of him! Lucius, don't you remember
your kinswoman, Byrrhena? Why, I brought you up with my own hands!"

I remembered Byrrhena very well, and loved her. But I did not want to
meet her just then. However, I went with her to her house, a beautiful
building of fine marble, containing some exquisite statuary.

"You will stay here, my dear Lucius, won't you?" she said.

I then told her that I had come to Hypata to see Milo and his wife
Pamphila. My friend Demeas of Corinth had given me a letter of
introduction.

"Don't you know that Pamphila is a witch?" she cried. "Do not go near
her, my child, or she will practise her wicked arts on you. It is just
handsome young men like you that she enchants and destroys."

Far from being terrified by Byrrhena's warning, I was delighted with it.
I longed to become an apprentice to a witch as powerful as Pamphila.
With a hasty excuse I left the house and set out to find Milo. Neither
he nor Pamphila was in when I called. But their maid who opened the
door, was such a pretty wench that I did not regret their absence.
Fotis, as she was called, was a graceful, sprightly little thing, with
the loveliest hair I ever saw. I liked the way it fell in soft puffs on
her neck, and rested on her neat linen tunic.

It was a case of love at first sight with both of us. But before I began
to ask her about Pamphila, Milo returned. He welcomed me very warmly,
and put the best room in his house at my disposal, and desired me to
stay to dinner. But in spite of my ardent curiosity, I was, I must