What an ass I was! It was some time before I noticed that the new
captain did not drink himself, and that the men he brought with him were
only pretending to drink, while forcing the wine on the other robbers,
who soon became too drunk to drink, and rolled over in a deep sleep.

"Up, boys, and disarm and bind these ruffians!" said the new captain,
who was none other than Tlepolemus, the bridegroom of the fair Charite.
And leaving his servants to perform this task, he put Charite on my
back, and led me to his native town. All the inhabitants poured out into
the street to see us pass, and they loudly acclaimed Tlepolemus for his
valour and ingenuity in rescuing his lovely bride, and capturing the
robbers.

Charite did not forget me in the scenes of rejoicing. She patted my head
and kissed my rough face, and bade the groom of the stud feed me well,
and let me have the run of the fields.

"Now I shall at last be able to get a mouthful of roses," I thought,
"and recover my human shape."

But, alas! the groom was an avaricious, disobedient slave, and he at
once sold me to a troupe of those infamous beggarly priests of Cybele,
who cart the Syrian goddess about the public squares to the sound of
cymbals and rattles.

The next morning my new owners smeared their faces with rouge, and
painted their eyes with black grease; then they dressed themselves in
white tunics, and set their wretched goddess on my back, and marched
out, leaping and brandishing great swords and axes. On coming to the
mansion of a wealthy man, they raised a wild din, and whirled about, and