Some thieves, too, also mingled with the crowd, and created a deafening clamour, and pushed their neighbours, to increase disorder, and take advantage of the tumult to filch some valuable object.
Old Taddeus, who sold Miletan wool and Tarentan linen, and to whom Thais owed a large sum of money, alone remained calm and silent in the midst of the uproar. He listened and watched, and gently stroking his goat-beard, seemed thoughtful. At last he approached young Cerons, and pulling him by the sleeve, whispered—
“You are the favoured lover of Thais, handsome youth; show yourself, and do not allow this monk to carry her off.”
“By Pollux and his sister, he shall not!” cried Cerons. “I will speak to Thais, and without flattering myself, I think she will listen to me rather than to that sooty-faced Lapithan. Place! Place, dogs!”
And striking with his fist the men, upsetting the old women and treading on the young children, he reached Thais, and taking her aside—
“Dearest girl,” he said, “look at me, remember, and tell me truly if you renounce love.”
But Paphnutius threw himself between Thais and Cerons.
“Impious wretch!” he cried, “beware and touch her not; she is sacred—she belongs to God.”
“Get away, baboon!” replied the young man furiously. “Let me speak to my sweetheart, or if not I will drag your obscene carcase by the beard to the fire, and roast you like a sausage.”
And he put his hand on Thais. But, pushed away by the monk with unexpected force, he staggered back four paces and fell at the foot of the pile amongst the scattered ashes.