“Never mind him,” whispered Hedeia, in the Corinthian’s ear,—“he is not the grave man that a bright pair of eyes cannot make a fool of. This is very odd,” she continued, looking round the board. “Here am I, the stranger, and one too half drowned, charged with the entertaining of this whole learned society.”
“Nay, my girl,” said the Master, “thou hadst need to be whole drowned, ere your friends might secure the happiness of being listened to.”
“Indeed, I believe it’s true; and considering that the greatest pleasure of life is the being listened to, I wonder how any one was found to pick me out of the water. The Corinthian, to be sure, did not know what he saved; but that the Master should wet his tunic in my service, is a very unaccountable circumstance. Is there any reason for it in philosophy?”
“I am afraid none.”
“Or in mathematics?” turning to Polyœnus. “Now, just see there a proof of my argument. Can any man look more like wisdom, or less like happiness? This comes of diagrams and ethics. My young Corinthian, take warning.”
“I wish we could fix you to a diagram,” said Leontium.
“The Graces forfend! and why should you wish it? Think you it would make me wiser? Let Polyœnus be judge, if I am not wiser than he. I admire the different prescriptions that are given by different doctors. The wife of the good Pythagorean recommended me a distaff.”
“Well,” said Hermachus, “that might do equally.”
“Pray, why don’t you take one yourself?”
“I, you see, am busy with philosophy.”