But she forced back her tears; not one wet her cheeks, yet it seemed as
if her poor heart had obtained eyes to shed them.

The little knife in her hand reminded her of her task of cutting roses,
and watching for the ship which was to bring her uncle's son from
Messina.

If Leonax was what Semestre described him, she would not repel him like
the other suitors, whom she had rejected with laughing lips.

Yes, she would become his wife, not only for her father's sake, but to
punish Phaon.

Sorrow and pain never felt before filled her heart after making this
resolution. Wholly engrossed by these conflicting emotions, instead of
going down to the sea, she walked straight on till she reached the great
gate that led to her own home. There she remembered the object of her
errand, and was just turning back, when the conjurer, who was resting
outside the gate with his cart in the shadow of the fence, called:

"You are obeying my advice, beautiful Xanthe, and move as thoughtfully
as a sophist."

"Then you must not disturb me," cried the girl, raising her head
defiantly. "Pardon me if I do so," replied the other, "but I wanted to
tell you that I might perhaps know of aid for your father. In my home--"

"Where is your home?"

"In Messina."