_Poly_. This was no earthly vision, Lycinus; surely she must
have dropped from the clouds.--And what was she doing?

_Ly_. In her hands was an open scroll; half read (so I surmised)
and half to be read. As she passed, she was making some remark to
one of her company; what it was I did not catch. But when she
smiled, ah! then, Polystratus, I beheld teeth whose whiteness,
whose unbroken regularity, who shall describe? Imagine a lovely
necklace of gleaming pearls, all of a size; and imagine those
dazzling rows set off by ruby lips. In that glimpse, I realized
what Homer meant by his 'carven ivory.' Other women's teeth differ
in size; or they project; or there are gaps: here, all was equality
and evenness; pearl joined to pearl in unbroken line. Oh, 'twas a
wondrous sight, of beauty more than human.

_Poly_. Stay. I know now whom you mean, as well from your
description as from her nationality. You said that there were
eunuchs in her train?

_Ly_. Yes; and soldiers too.

_Poly_. My simple friend, the lady you have been describing is
a celebrity, and possesses the affections of an Emperor.

_Ly_. And her name?

_Poly_. Adds one more to the list of her charms; for it is the
same as that of Abradatas's wife. [Footnote: See _Panthea_ in
Notes.] You know Xenophon's enthusiastic account of that beautiful