"Do you remember the festival of Adonis, and how I stopped the runaway
horse of that Numidian officer?"

"The horse had knocked over Arsinoe, and when we got home mother gave you
an almond-cake."

"And your ungrateful sister bit a great piece out of it and left me only
a tiny morsel. Is Arsinoe as pretty as she promised to become? It is
two years since I last saw her; at our place we never have time to leave
work till it is dark. For eight months I had to work for the master at
Ptolemais, and often saw the old folks but once in the month."

"We go out very little, too, and we are not allowed to go into your
parents' house. My sister--"

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes, I think she is. Whenever she can get hold of a piece of ribbon she
plaits it in her hair, and the men in the street turn round to look at
her. She is sixteen now."

"Sixteen! What, little Arsinoe! Why, how long then is it since your
mother died?"

"Four years and eight months."

"You remember the date very exactly; such a mother is not easily
forgotten, indeed. She was a good woman and a kinder I never met.
I know, too, that she tried to mollify your father's feeling, but
she could not succeed, and then she need must die!"