He tried in vain to resist the laugh; then looking to the master—“What would you have me turn it to?”
“As you object to a Hebe, to a philosopher by all means. Silver the head a little, it may be an admirable Epicurus.”
“Nay! don’t make the madman furious,” said Leontium, placing her hand on Metrodorus’s shoulder; then, addressing Theon, “Pray, young man, if you want to be a philosopher, never find an eye for painting, a finger for music, or a brain for poetry. Any one of these will keep a man from wisdom.”
“But not a woman, I suppose,” retorted Metrodorus, “as you have all three.”
“Ready at compliments this morning: but if you wanted a bow for this, you should have given it with a more gracious face. But come, my poor friend; we will try to put you in good humor—Nothing like a little flattery for this. Here, my young Corinthian! (walking to the other side of the room to a newly finished picture that stood against the wall, and beckoning Theon towards her) you may without skill perceive the beauty of this work, and the excellence of the likeness.”
It was indeed striking. “Admirable!” cried Theon after a long gaze of admiration, and then turning to compare it with the original.
“A little flattered, and more than a little, I fear,” said Epicurus with a smile, as he moved towards them.
“Flattered!” exclaimed Metrodorus; “a Parrhasius could not flatter such an original.”
“You see how my scholars spoil me,” said the Gargettian to Theon.
“But you think,” continued Metrodorus, “that I have done it common justice.”