"It happened about this time that Tigranes, as he was one day exploring the woods, discovered the den of a she-wolf, in which she had left her young ones while she went out to search for prey. By a caprice that was natural to his temper, he chose out the largest of the whelps, carried it home to his house, and brought it up as if it had been a useful and harmless animal. While it was yet but young it was incapable of doing mischief; but as it increased in age and strength, it began to show signs of a bloody and untameable disposition, and made all the neighbouring shepherds tremble for the safety of their flocks. But as the courage and fierceness of Tigranes had now rendered him formidable to all his associates, and the violence of his temper made him impatient of all opposition, they did not speak to him on the
subject; and as to his own parents, he had long learned to treat them with indifference and contempt. Sophron alone, who was not to be awed by fear, observing the just apprehensions of the neighbourhood, undertook the task of expostulating with his friend, and endeavoured to prevail upon him to part with a beast so justly odious, and which might in the end prove fatal whenever his natural rage should break out into open acts of slaughter. Tigranes heard him with a sneer of derision, and only answered, that 'if a parcel of miserable rustics diverted themselves with keeping sheep, he, who had a more elevated soul, might surely entertain a nobler animal for his diversion.' 'But should that nobler animal prove a public mischief,' coolly replied Sophron, 'you must expect that he will be treated as a public enemy.' 'Woe be to the man,' answered Tigranes, brandishing his javelin, and sternly frowning, 'that shall dare to meddle with anything that belongs to me.' Saying this, he turned his back upon Sophron, and left him with disdain.
"It was not long before the very event took place which had been so long foreseen. The wolf of Tigranes, either impelled by the accidental taste of blood, or by the natural fierceness of his own temper, fell one day upon the sheep, with such an unexpected degree of fury that he slaughtered thirty of them before it was possible to prevent him. Sophron happened at that time to be within view; he ran with amazing swiftness to the place, and found the savage bathed in blood, tearing the carcass of a lamb he had just slain. At the approach of the daring youth the wolf began to utter a dismal cry, and, quitting his
prey, seemed to prepare himself for slaughter of another kind. Sophron was entirely unarmed, and the size and fury of the beast, which rushed forward to attack him, might well have excused him had he declined the combat. But he, consulting only his native courage, wrapped his shepherd's cloak around his left arm, to resist the first onset of his enemy, and, with a determined look and nimble pace, advanced towards his threatening adversary. In an instant the wolf sprang upon him, with a horrid yell; but Sophron nimbly eluded his attack, and suddenly throwing his vigorous arms about the body of his adversary, compelled him to struggle for his own safety. It was then that he uttered cries more dreadful than before; and as he writhed about in all the agitations of pain and madness, he gnashed his terrible teeth with impotent attempts to bite, while the blood and foam which issued from his jaws rendered his figure still more horrible than before. But Sophron, with undaunted courage, still maintained his hold, and grasping him with irresistible strength, prevented him from using either his teeth or claws in his own defence. It was not long before the struggles and violence of the wolf grew perceptibly weaker from fatigue, and he seemed to wish to decline a further combat with so formidable a foe, could he have found means to escape. Sophron then collected all his strength, and, seizing his fainting adversary by the neck and throat, grasped him still tighter in his terrible hands, till the beast, incapable either of disengaging himself or breathing, yielded up the contest and his life together.
"It was almost in this moment that Tigranes passed that way, and unexpectedly was witness to the tri
umphs of Sophron, and the miserable end of his favourite. Inflamed with pride and indignation, Tigranes uttered dreadful imprecations against his friend, who in vain attempted to explain the transaction, and rushing upon him with all the madness of inveterate hate, aimed a javelin at his bosom. Sophron was calm as he was brave; he saw the necessity of defending his own life against the attacks of a perfidious friend, and, with a nimble spring, at once eluded the weapon and closed with his antagonist. The combat was then more equal, for each was reduced to depend upon his own strength and activity. They struggled for some time with all the efforts which disappointed rage could inspire on the one side, and a virtuous indignation on the other. At length the fortune, or rather the force and coolness of Sophron, prevailed over the blind impetuous fury of Tigranes; he at once exerted his whole remaining strength, with such success that he hurled his adversary to the ground, where he lay, bleeding, vanquished, and unable to rise. 'Thou scarcely,' said Sophron, 'deservest thy life from my hands, who couldst so wantonly and unjustly attempt to deprive me of mine; however, I will rather remember thy early merits than my recent injuries.' 'No,' replied the raging Tigranes, 'load me not with thy odious benefits; but rather rid me of a life which I abhor, since thou hast robbed me of my honour.' 'I will never hurt thee,' replied Sophron, 'but in my own just defence; live to make a better use of life, and to have juster ideas of honour.' Saying this, he assisted Tigranes to rise, but finding his temper full of implacable resentment, he turned another way, and left him to go home alone.
"It was not long after this event that a company of soldiers marched across the plains where Sophron was feeding his flocks, and halted to refresh themselves under the shade of some spreading trees. The officer who commanded them was struck with the comely figure and expressive countenance of Sophron. He called the young man to him, and endeavoured to inflame him with a military ardour, by setting before him the glory which might be acquired by arms, and ridiculing the obscurity of a country life. When he thought he had sufficiently excited his admiration, he proposed to him that he should enrol himself in his company; and promised him every encouragement which he thought most likely to engage the passions of a young man. Sophron thanked him, with humility, for his offers, but told him he had an aged father, who was now become incapable of maintaining himself, and therefore that he could accept of no offers, however advantageous they might appear, which would interfere with the discharge of this duty. The officer replied, and ridiculed the scruples of the young man; but, finding him inflexible in his resolution, he at last turned from him with an air of contempt, and called his men to follow him, muttering, as he went, reflections on the stupidity and cowardice of Sophron.
"The party had not proceeded far, before, by ill fortune, they came to the place where Sophron's favourite lamb was feeding; and as the animal had not yet learned to dread the cruelty of the human species, it advanced towards them with all the confidence of unsuspicious innocence. 'This is a lucky accident,' cried one of the soldiers, with a brutal sa
tisfaction; 'fortune was not willing we should go without a supper, and has therefore sent us a present.' 'A happy exchange,' answered a second; 'a fat sheep for a lubberly shepherd; and the coward will no doubt think himself happy to sleep in a whole skin at so small an expense.' Saying this, he took the lamb, and bore it away in triumph, uttering a thousand threats and execrations against the master if he should dare to reclaim it.
"Sophron was not so far removed to escape the sight of the indignity that was offered him. He followed the troop, with so much swiftness that it was not long before he overtook the soldier who was bearing away his friend, and from his load marched rather behind the rest. When Sophron approached him, he accosted him in the gentlest manner, and besought him, in words that might have touched any one but a savage, to restore his favourite; he even offered, when he found that nothing else would avail, to purchase back his own property with something of greater value; but the barbarous soldier, inured to scenes of misery, and little accustomed to yield to human entreaties, only laughed at his complaints, and loaded him with additional insults. At length he began to be tired with his importunities, and drawing his sword, and waving it before the eyes of Sophron, threatened, that if he did not depart immediately he would use him as he intended to do the lamb. 'And do you think,' answered Sophron, 'that while I have an arm to lift, or a drop of blood in my veins, I will suffer you, or any man, to rob me of what I value more than life?' The soldier, exasperated at such an insolent reply, as he termed it, aimed a blow at