Catching sight of a stranger whose clothes and rotundity were slightly ridiculous, Tryphera tapped him on the shoulder.
“I say! Papa! I wager that you are not an Alexandrian, eh?”
“No indeed, my girl,” answered the honest fellow. “And you have guessed rightly. I am quite astounded at the town and the people.”
“You are from Boubastis?”
“No. From Cabasa. I came here to sell grain, and I am going back again to-morrow, richer by fifty-two minæ. Thanks be to the gods! it has been a good year.”
Tryphera suddenly began to take an great interest in this merchant.
“My child,” he resumed timidly, “you can give me a great joy. I don’t want to return to Cabasa to-morrow without being able to tell my wife and three daughters that I have seen some celebrated men, You probably know some celebrated men?”
“Some few,” she said, laughing.
“Good. Name them to me when they pass. I am sure that during the last two days I have met the most influential functionaries. I am in despair at not knowing them by sight.”
