"Behold those eyes, those feet, those golden arms...."
"Twelve hundred, Tisru!"
"She can sing and dance and play sweet music...."
"Fourteen hundred!"
"Behold those lips, gentlemen ... those dainty, shell-like ears—"
A coarse laugh broke from one of his listeners.
"Stop pointing out things we all can see, Tisru. I told you before, we want no packaged goods. Off with the woman's rags that we may know on what we bid."
It was evident that Tisru had been cleverly biding his time for some such request. Now, with the air of a sculptor preparing to unveil a masterpiece, he pretended humble acquiescence to the demand.
"Very well, my lords and masters," he whined. "Then prepare yourselves for a vision of blinding radiance—"