“Silence, old fool!” he cried sternly. “You are talking about things which don’t concern you. Do you want me to tear your tongue out of your mouth and fling it to the dogs?”
The slave silently slunk away, trembling from head to foot.
Contrary to his custom Callippides, during the following days, remained at home and did not fail to spend the afternoon hours in the garden. But day after day slipped by without his having the smallest glimpse of Melitta. The door of the next house often opened; but it was only a female slave who came out to gather flowers, pluck fruits, or bring in from the garden the stuffs that had been washed. As each day elapsed, Callippides became more and more depressed.
One night, as he sat half erect on his couch, unable to sleep, he saw through the open door a narrow ray of light which fell upon the flags in the courtyard. Surprised, he rose; the light came from Manes’ room. Fearing that the old man might be ill, he went to him at once.
Manes was sitting working on a pair of sandals, whose straps were not in the best condition. When Callippides entered, he was evidently startled and confused and tried to hide something behind his chair.
“What are you doing, Manes?” asked Callippides.
“Putting new straps to a pair of old sandals.”
“Whose are they?”
“Mine.”
“And these?” asked Callippides, taking from behind the chair a pair of little sandals for a child seven or eight years old, “are these yours too?”