"That is just like Dada!" she exclaimed. "Little Papias had rolled off the chest on which he was sleeping, so the good girl had put him into her bed and was sitting on the chest herself, tired as she was."
"She would do anything for that boy," said Karnis. "But it is past midnight. Come, Orpheus, let us make the bed!"
Three long hen-coops which stood piled against the wall were laid on the ground and covered with mats; on these the tired men stretched their limbs, but they could not sleep.
The little lamp was extinguished, and for an hour all was still in the dark room. Then, suddenly, there was a loud commotion; some elastic object flew against the wall with a loud flap, and Karnis, starting up, called out: "Get out—monster!"
"What is it?" cried Herse who had also been startled, and the old man replied angrily:
"Some daemon, some dog of a daemon is attacking me and giving me no peace. Wait, you villain—there, perhaps that will settle you," and he flung his second sandal. Then, without heeding the rustling fall of some object that he had hit by accident, he gasped out:
"The impudent fiend will not let me be. It knows that we need Agne's voice, and it keeps whispering, first in one ear and then in the other, that I should threaten to sell her little brother if she refuses; but I— I—strike a light, Orpheus!—She is a good girl and rather than do such a thing. . ."
"The daemon has been close to me too," said the son as he blew on the spark he had struck.
"And to me too," added Herse nervously. "It is only natural. There are no images of the gods in this Christian hovel. Away, hateful serpent! We are honest folks and will not agree to any vile baseness. Here is my amulet, Karnis; if the daemon comes again you must turn it round—you know how."