“About five years ago,” resumed Phorion, “Simonides bought a young slave called Zenon.”
Hearing this name so suddenly, Lycon turned ghastly pale and, half falling back on his couch, made a groping movement with his hands, as though he had suddenly been plunged into the blackest darkness.
Aristeides pitied him, and, to force him to control himself, said:
“Are you ill, Lycon?”
Lycon passed his huge hand over his face; the muscles around his mouth quivered, and it was a moment ere he could mutter a few words which sounded as if he had taken too large a mouthful.
“So,” continued Phorion, “Simonides bought a young slave named Zenon. He hadn’t given much for him, because Zenon had robbed his former master, a physician in the neighboring city of Ormenium; he had been branded and fled to Poseidon’s altar in Methone. Nobody would buy him, but when he fell weeping at Simonides’ feet and promised to conquer his evil propensities, the latter was touched and bought him for less than a mina.[Q] For more than a year his conduct obtained his master’s approval and won his favor and confidence. One day Simonides was visited by a man from Hypata, with whom he had business relations. Zenon waited on the table and saw the stranger pay Simonides nearly a talent, partly in ready money and partly in drafts on well-known moneylenders in Athens, and noticed that this property was placed in a box where many bags of darics[R] were already kept. The next morning the chest where the box had been placed was found broken open. The box had gone, and with it Zenon. Simonides sent mounted messengers to this city, but Zenon had already had the drafts cashed, the more easily because his master’s seal ring was in the chest.
“Simonides had the great robbery and an exact description of the thief’s personal appearance proclaimed in the market by the public heralds; but all his efforts were useless. Grief and worry over this great loss broke down his health. He was attacked by paralysis, his right side was benumbed, his mouth drawn awry, and for a time he was almost speechless. The once gay, jovial man is now a mere shadow of his former self. Though he is too proud to complain, I think the slaves take advantage of his condition and do what they choose. There is not the least sign of the order that formerly existed in the house. In the vestibule lay fragments of broken wine-jars, fruit-skins, faded garlands, and the handles of burnt torches. Yet not even to his best friend, Polycles the wine-dealer, has he mentioned their negligence. The only complaint that ever escaped the lips of the sick man, so deserted by his servants, was the wish: ‘If I only had a son! I could depend upon him.’”
[Q] Mina = equal to about $20.
[R] Persian gold coin, named for Darius, value a little over $5.
“By Heracles!” cried one of the reckless young fellows, “he’ll find that wish hard to get—weak as he is.”