Hegio, while be received full value for his
money, took the master for the slave, and the
slave for the master.

Another person, who, from another cause, was
deeply grieved by the capture of Philopolemus,
was his friend Ergasilus, a gentleman of good
family, engaging manners, and very limited
means. Ergasilus, in fact, was one of those
persons very common in Greek society, and by
no means without representatives in modern
times, who lived entirely on the bounty of their
opulent acquaintances. When the town was
full, his existence was merry enough; but when
a cessation of public business caused an
immigration of citizens into the country, he was
so utterly without resources, that he would
compare himself to a shell-fish forced to nourish
itself with its own moisture. Now of all the
young men of wealth whose table he
frequented, Philopolemus had been most
liberal, and, as good friends had generally
become scarce, he felt that his only chance
of subsistence was threatened. Nor was the
sorrow of Ergasilus thoroughly selfish. He
highly respected the father as well as the son,
and thought the traffic in prisoners carried
on by the former anything but worthy of his
dignified station.

One day, when Ergasilus was lounging, in
melancholy mood, near Hegio's town residence,
the old gentleman came out absorbed in the
cares of his new occupation. Being of a kindly
disposition, he had just ordered his slaves to
remove the heavy chains from the two captives to
whom we have especially referred, and to
substitute others of less weight. The captives might
also be allowed to take a walk; but the slaves
were enjoined to keep them in sight, for, as Hegio
shrewdly observed, an escaped prisoner is like a
wild beast, very hard to catch. He was now
on his way to inspect some other captives, who
had been previously bought, and were kept at
his brother's house; and he had not proceeded
many steps before he encountered Ergasilus, who
did not scruple to confess his forlorn condition.

Although perfectly convinced that the grief
of Ergasilus was caused more by the cessation
of his meals than by the loss of his friend,
Hegio could not refrain from sympathising with
a man who was a sufferer through the same
misfortune as himself. Half in joke, half in earnest,
he told him that it was his birthday, and that if
he liked he might come to supper, though he
warned him, at the same time, that he must be
content with vegetable diet. Ergasilus
muttered that Hegio was more qualified to nurse
the sick than to entertain guests of distinction,
but he accepted the invitation nevertheless.

The slave to whose charge the two captives
were confided, though it was his office to inflict
corporal punishment on delinquents of his own
condition, was by no means a hard-hearted
creature, and even endeavoured to comfort his
unhappy charges with philosophical discourse.
If it was the will of the gods that they suffered
this calamity, they were bound to submit. In
their early life they had tasted the sweets of
liberty; very good—they must now put up
with the consequences of their captivity, and,
though the fortune of war had rendered them
slaves, still, if they could only make their own
will precisely correspond with that of their
master, their condition might not be so
intolerable, after all.

The consolatory power of discourses of this
kind is seldom very great, nor did the words of
the kindly jailer, uttered when he took them
out for the walk permitted by Hegio, greatly
cheer the heart of the noble Philocrates.
However, they encouraged Tyndarus, whose
condtion was less changed than that of his
master, to crave a small favour, which was that
he and his fellow-captive should be allowed to
converse a few moments apart. Their keeper,
who had only to take care that they did not
quit his sight, readily acceded to this request.

The desired opportunity of private conversation
being obtained, Philocrates warned Tyndarus
that the greatest circumspection was necessary,
if they would not have their plans fail altogether.
The task which each had imposed on himself,
of sustaining the character of the other was by
no means light, and consequently must not be
negligently performed. Tyndarus, on the other
hand, implored his young master not to forget
in better times the perils he might encounter for
his sake.

While they are engaged in mutual protestations
of friendship, uncommon between master and
slave, Hegio, who, after his encounter with
Ergasilus, had gone in to look over his banking
account, and had postponed the visit to bis
brother, suddenly came upon them out of his
house. Viewing them in their captive condition,
he could not help sighing as he thought that
his own Philopolemus was undergoing the
same lot in Elis, but he also smiled inwardly to
think that his son's release was now probably
at hand. Accosting them both in an affable
manner, he drew aside the noble Philocrates,
whom he took for the slave Tyndarus, and
began to ask him. about his supposed master's
position when in his native country. In spite
of their melancholy plight, both captives were
amused by the readiness with which Hegio
had fallen into their snare, and while the real
Tyndarus stood chuckling in the background,
Philocrates, entering into the humour of the
situation, not only told the truth, which was all
that was necessary, but a little more. Thus,
when he was asked to what family his supposed
master belonged, he answered that he belonged
to the family of Polyplusius, which was the
most powerful in Elis, and that his father
was called Thesaurochrysonicochrysides. These
names were not only sonorous to the ear, but,
as the merest smatterer in Greek will perceive,
actually rang with syllables indicating gold,
wealth, and treasure. However, if the old gentleman
was wealthy, Philocrates explained that he
was dreadfully avaricious; so stingy, in fact,
that when, in compliance to the pagan custom
of his time, he sacrificed to his genius, he
invariably used Samian vases, which were the
commonest and cheapest ware, in case the
genius should prove light-fingered.