the same time took up the sharp kitchen knife with which Argutis
slaughtered the sheep.

The young man then turned to go, but even on the threshold he had
stumbled over the straps of his sandals which dragged unfastened, and
Argutis had had to lead him, almost to carry him in from the garden, for
a violent fit of coughing had left him quite exhausted. The effort of
pulling at the heavy oars on board the galley had been too much for his
weak chest. Argutis and Dido had carried him to bed, and he had soon
fallen into a deep sleep, from which he had not waked since.

And now what were these two plotting? They were writing; and not on wax
tablets, but with reed pens on papyrus, as though it were a matter of
importance.

All this gave the slave much to think about, and the faithful soul did
not know whether to weep for joy or grief when Alexander told him, with a
gravity which frightened him in this light-hearted youth, that, partly as
the reward of his faithful service and partly to put him in a position to
aid them all in a crisis of peculiar difficulty, he gave him his freedom.
His father had long since intended to do this, and the deed was already
drawn out. Here was the document; and he knew that, even as a freedman,
Argutis would continue to serve them as faithfully as ever. With this he
gave the slave his manumission, which he was in any case to have received
within a month, at the end of thirty years' service, and Argutis took it
with tears of joy, not unmixed with grief and anxiety, while only a few
hours since it would have been enough to make him the happiest of
mortals.

While he kissed their hands and stammered out words of gratitude, his