me, and now and again called some favoured creature up to receive
a scrap of viand from the royal dish. This the honoured one would
eat with extravagant gesture, or (as happened twice) would put it
away in the folds of his clothes as a treasure too dear to be
profaned by human lips.

To me, this flattery appeared gross and disgustful, but
Phorenice, through use, perhaps, seemed to take it as merely her
due. There was, one had to suppose, a weakness in her somewhere,
though truly to the outward seeing none was apparent. Her face was
strong enough, and it was subtle also, and, moreover, it was
wondrous comely. All the courtiers in the banqueting-hall raved
about Phorenice's face and the other beauties of her body and
limbs, and though not given to appreciation in these matters, I
could not but see that here at least they had a groundwork for
their admiration, for surely the Gods have never favoured mortal
woman more highly. Yet lovely though she might be, for myself I
preferred to look upon Ylga, the girl, who, because of her rank,
was privileged to sit on the divan behind us as immediate
attendant. There was an honesty in Ylga's face which Phorenice's
lacked.

They did not eat to nutrify their bodies, these feasters in
the banqueting-hall of the royal pyramid, but they all ate to cloy
themselves, and they strutted forth new usages with every platter
and bowl that the slaves brought. To me some of their manners were
closely touching on disrespect. At the halfway of the meal, a
gorgeous popinjay--he was a governor of an out-province driven into
the capital by a rebellion in his own lands--this gorgeous fop, I
say, walked up between the groups of feasters with flushed face and