miss Phaon. You say the couch in my brother's house has grown too hard
for him, and he has found softer pillows in Syracuse. With us the day
began long ago, but in the city perhaps they haven't quite finished with
yesterday. I'm sorry for the fine fellow."

"Is it true," asked Xanthe, blushing, "that my uncle is seeking a rich
bride for him in Messina?"

"Probably, but in courtship one does not always reach the desired goal.
Has Phaon told you nothing about his father's wishes? Question the
conjurer, or he'll get his new clothes with far too little trouble.
Save me the reproach of being a spendthrift."

"I don't wish to do so; what is the use of such folly?" replied Xanthe,
with flushed cheeks, preparing to go into the house.

Her father shrugged his shoulders, and, turning his head, called after
her:

"Do as you please, but cut a piece from the brown woolen cloth, and bring
it to the conjurer."

The young girl disappeared in the house. The tune which the boy drew
from the monaulus again and again sounded monotonous, but the young
people constantly grew more mirthful; higher and higher sprang the
bounding feet.

The ribbons fluttered as if a storm had seized them; many a gay garment
waved; and there was no end to the shouts and clapping of hands in time
with the music.