AN OLD WOMAN. Dear old men, am I near the house where the new god lives,
or have I missed the road?
CHORUS. You are at his door, my pretty little maid, who question us so
sweetly.[796]
OLD WOMAN. Then I will summon someone in the house.
CHREMYLUS. 'Tis needless! I am here myself. But what matter brings you
here?
OLD WOMAN. Ah! a cruel, unjust fate! My dear friend, this god has made
life unbearable to me through ceasing to be blind.
CHREMYLUS. What does this mean? Can you be a female informer?
OLD WOMAN. Most certainly not.
CHREMYLUS. Have you not drunk up your money then?
OLD WOMAN. You are mocking me! Nay! I am being devoured with a consuming
fire.
CHREMYLUS. Then tell me what is consuming you so fiercely.
OLD WOMAN. Listen! I loved a young man, who was poor, but so handsome, so
well-built, so honest! He readily gave way to all I desired and acquitted
himself so well! I, for my part, refused him nothing.
CHREMYLUS. And what did he generally ask of you.
OLD WOMAN. Very little; he bore himself towards me with astonishing
discretion! perchance twenty drachmae for a cloak or eight for footwear;
sometimes he begged me to buy tunics for his sisters or a little mantle
for his mother; at times he needed four bushels of corn.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas very little, in truth; I admire his modesty.
OLD WOMAN. And 'twas not as a reward for his complacency that he ever
asked me for anything, but as a matter of pure friendship; a cloak I had
given would remind him from whom he had got it.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas a fellow who loved you madly.
OLD WOMAN. But 'tis no longer so, for the faithless wretch has sadly
altered! I had sent him this cake with the sweetmeats you see here on
this dish and let him know that I would visit him in the evening....
CHREMYLUS. Well?
OLD WOMAN. He sent me back my presents and added this tart to them, on
condition that I never set foot in his house again. Besides, he sent me
this message, "Once upon a time the Milesians were brave."[797]
CHREMYLUS. An honest lad, indeed! But what would you? When poor, he would
devour anything; now he is rich, he no longer cares for lentils.
OLD WOMAN. Formerly he came to me every day.
CHREMYLUS. To see if you were being buried?
OLD WOMAN. No! he longed to hear the sound of my voice.
CHREMYLUS. And to carry off some present.
OLD WOMAN. If I was downcast, he would call me his little duck or his
little dove in a most tender manner....
CHREMYLUS. And then would ask for the wherewithal to buy a pair of shoes.
OLD WOMAN. When I was at the Mysteries of Eleusis in a carriage,[798]
someone looked at me; he was so jealous that he beat me the whole of that
day.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas because he liked to feed alone.
OLD WOMAN. He told me I had very beautiful hands.
CHREMYLUS. Aye, no doubt, when they handed him twenty drachmae.
OLD WOMAN. That my whole body breathed a sweet perfume.
CHREMYLUS. Yes, like enough, if you poured him out Thasian wine.
OLD WOMAN. That my glance was gentle and charming.
CHREMYLUS. 'Twas no fool. He knew how to drag drachmae from a hot-blooded
old woman.
OLD WOMAN. Ah! the god has done very, very wrong, saying he would support
the victims of injustice.
CHREMYLUS. Well, what must he do? Speak, and it shall be done.
OLD WOMAN. 'Tis right to compel him, whom I have loaded with benefits, to
repay them in his turn; if not, he does not merit the least of the god's
favours.
CHREMYLUS. And did he not do this every night?
OLD WOMAN. He swore he would never leave me, as long as I lived.