The sailors received this tale with roars of laughter, and Tryphaena
blushed not a little and laid her face amorously upon Giton's neck. But
Lycas did not laugh; "If that governor had been a just man," said he,
shaking his head angrily, "he would have ordered the husband's body taken
down and carried back into the vault, and crucified the woman." No doubt
the memory of Hedyle haunted his mind, and the looting of his ship in
that wanton excursion. But the terms of the treaty permitted the
harboring of no old grudges and the joy which filled our hearts left no
room for anger. Tryphaena was lying in Giton's lap by this time,
covering his bosom with kisses one minute and rearranging the curls upon
his shaven head the next. Uneasy and chagrined at this new league, I
took neither food nor drink but looked askance at them both, with grim
eyes. Every kiss was a wound to me, every artful blandishment which the
wanton woman employed, and I could not make up my mind as to whether I
was more angered at the boy for having supplanted me with my mistress, or
at my mistress for debauching the boy: both were hateful to my sight, and
more galling than my late servitude. And to make the matter all the more
aggravating, Tryphaena would not even greet me as an acquaintance, whom
she had formerly received as a lover, while Giton did not think me worthy
of a "Here's-to-you" in ordinary civility, nor even speak to me in the
course of the common conversation; I suppose he was afraid of reopening a
tender scar at the moment when a return to her good graces had commenced
to draw it together. Tears of vexation dropped upon my breast and the
groan I smothered in a sigh nearly wracked my soul.

The vulture tearing; at the liver's deep and vital parts,
That wracks our breasts and rends our very heartstrings
Is not that bird the charming poet sings with all his arts;
'T'is jealousy or hate that human hearts stings.