craft and stratagem, but which was novel in
the early days of which we are now speaking.
He boldly asserted that Aristophontes was mad,
nay, so very far gone in insanity, that while at
home he had chased about his parents with a
spear. Hegio, of course, was not to believe a
word uttered by a being so dismally afflicted;
indeed, if he valued his own safety, he had
better keep out of the maniac's reach.

At first Hegio pursued a chain of reasoning
which exactly answered the wily captive's
purpose. Having heard the man whom he had
supposed to be Philocrates called Tyndarus by
Aristopliontes, he readily accepted this fact, not
as a proof of imposture on the part of the person
accosted, but as confirmatory evidence of the
madness of the speaker. However, the vehement
protestations of Aristophontes that he was in his
right mind, that the man before him was Tyndarus,
and that no other slave named Tyndarus was
known in the whole country of Elis, clinched as
they were by an offer to be bound, that Hegio
might feel secure against personal injury, at
last induced the old gentleman to approach
the madman, from whom he had lately shrunk,
and to hear what he had to say.

The statement of Aristophontes was to the
effect that he had known Tyndarus from the
time when they were little children, and that
the man before him was most assuredly
Tyndarus, and not Philocrates, whom also he
intimately knew, as he had previously declared.
To Hegio's question, whether the name of the
father of Philocrates was Thesaurochrysonico-
chrysides, he answered that he had never
heard that odd name in his life, and that the
real name of the old gentleman in question
was Theodoromedes, which assuredly had
probability in its favour. A very accurate
description of the personal appearance of the
real Philocrates completed the conviction of
Hegio that the assertions of Aristophontes were
true, and that he had been duped by his two
captives. His rage and disappointment at the
discovery that, to use his own words, he had
parted with the nut and retained the shell as
security was extreme, his first impulse being to
call three of his strongest slaves, and order
them to bind Tyndarus on the spot.

Finding that dissimulation no longer answered
any useful purpose, Tyndarus now confessed
all that he had done, adding that, whatever
befel him, he should glory in having saved
his young master at the risk of his own life.
Perhaps Philocrates might keep his word and
soon return; but even if the young noble were
faithless, the slave could still rejoice in his own
fidelity. He had been entrusted by his old
master, Theodoromedes, with the care of his
son, and he could boast that he had fulfilled his
trust.

Aristophontes, who had not understood the
design of Tyndarus in charging him with
insanity, and had been greatly incensed
against him on that account, now perceived the
mischief he had done, and was overwhelmed
with remorse. For no man in the world had
he more esteem than for Philocrates, and now
he had subjected to severe punishment the
faithful slave who had endeavoured to save his
friend by an unprecedented act of self-devotion.
Greatly was he shocked, too, when he heard the
cruelties which Hegio, in the madness of his
rage, ordered to be inflicted upon Tyndarus.
The wretched man was to be taken at once to
a stone-quarry belonging to Hegio, which was
situated outside the gates of the town, where he
was to labour all day and be bound all night.
The other slaves who toiled in the quarry were
expected to hew out daily eight large blocks
of stone; but Tyndarus, unless within the same
time he hewed out twelve, was to be scourged
without mercy. In vain did Aristophontes implore
Hegio to show some degree of forbearance;
the deceit practised on the old AEtolian had
wounded him in the tenderest point, and,
though when Tyndarus asked him whether he
would not rejoice if Philopolemus had a slave
who in like manner would assist him to escape
from Elis, he sullenly answered in the affirmative,
the argument produced no practical result.
His whole life passed before him; he called
to mind the little boy whom he had lost in his
childhood, and, coupling this with his recent
bereavement, he declared that henceforward
he would never show mercy, as mercy had
never been shown to him. Tyndarus was
borne off to the quarry still exulting in what he
had done. He could not refrain uttering a word
of reproach to Aristophontes, but the only favour
he asked was that, in the event of Philocrates'
return, he might be permitted to see him.

Left alone, Hegio felt that he was the most
wretched man in all AEtolia. Nor did it escape
him that he was likely to encounter petty
annoyances in addition to his great grief; for he
knew well that a person who has been dexterously
cheated, however serious the consequences
may be to him, must make up his mind to be
the laughing-stock of his neighbours. While
he was indulging in these gloomy meditations,
who should come up to him but Ergasilus,
puffing and blowing, with joy in every feature.
When last they had met, they had not parted
on the best of terms, and Ergasilus had only
accepted Hegio's invitation to a supper of herbs
on the tacit understanding that, if an opportunity
of tasting more generous fare presented itself
in the course of the day, he would not allow his
engagement with Hegio to prevent him from
taking advantage of it. Why he was so delighted
now Hegio could not make out, and to the
many questions he put, he was for a long time
only answered with exhortations to provide
instantly as large a feast as possible. This sort
of discourse, to a man suffering under severe
calamity, could not be otherwise than annoying;
but, at last, Ergasilus resolved to tantalise him
him no more, astonished him with the joyful
tidings that he had just come from the port,
where he had seen Philopolemus land
in a boat, accompanied by Philocrates and
another man, whom he had at once recognised
as the slave who, years before, had fled with
Hegio's child, and whose name was Stalagmus.

When the old AEtolian was once satisfied that