their eyes, Semestre looked like a cautious cat awaiting the attack of
the less nimble but stronger shepherd's dog.

"You know," Jason began, that when, long ago, we two, you as nurse and I
as steward, came to this place, our present masters' fine estates
belonged undivided to their father. The gods gave the old man three
sons. The oldest, Alciphron, whom you nursed and watched through his
boyhood, went to a foreign land, became a great merchant in Messina, and,
after his father's death, received a large inheritance in gold, silver
and the city house at the port. The country estates were divided between
Protarch and Lysander. My master, as the elder of the two, obtained the
old house; yours built this new and elegant mansion. One son, the
handsome Phaon, has grown up under our roof, while yours shelters the
lovely Xanthe. My master has gone to Messina, not only to sell our oil
and yours, but to speak to the guardian of a wealthy heiress, of whom his
brother had written. He wants her for Phaon's wife; but I think Phaon
was created for Xanthe and Xanthe for him. There's nothing lacking,
except to have Hymen--"

"To have Hymen unite them," interrupted Semestre. "There's no hurry
about heiresses; they don't let themselves be plucked like blackberries.
If she has scorned her country suitor, it may well seem desirable to
Protarch and all of you that Xanthe should prove more yielding, for then
our property would be joined with yours."

"It would be just the same as during Dionysius's lifetime."

"And you alone would reap the profit."

"No, Semestre, it would be an advantage to both us and you; for, since