“How now, mistress!” he said, angrily, reaching for her hand.
“I want to see Xoli, the Chalcan,” she replied, escaping his touch.
“What have you to do with him?”
He sat up, and looked at her in wonder.
“What have you to do with him?” he repeated, in a kindlier tone.
Her face kindled with a sudden intelligence. “Xoli! The gods be praised! And their blessing on you, if you will do a kind deed for a countryman!”
“Well! But what beggar is that? Came he with you?”
“It is of him I would speak. Hear me!” she asked drawing near him again. “He is poor, but a Chalcan. If you have memory of the city of your birth, be merciful to his child.”
“His child! Who? Nay, it is a beggar’s tale! Ho, fellow! How many times have I driven you away already! How dare you return!”
Slowly the old man raised his head from his staff, and turned his face to the speaker; there was no light there: he was blind!