Twilight was falling, as we entered the market-place, in which we noticed
a quantity of things for sale, not any of much value, it is true, but
such as could be disposed of to the best advantage when the semi-darkness
would serve to hide their doubtful origin. As we had brought our stolen
mantle, we proceeded to make use of so favorable an opportunity, and, in
a secluded spot, displayed a corner of it, hoping the splendid garment
would attract some purchaser. Nor was it long before a certain peasant,
whose face was familiar to my eyes, came up, accompanied by a young
woman, and began to examine the garment very closely. Ascyltos, in turn,
cast a glance at the shoulders of our rustic customer, and was instantly
struck dumb with astonishment. Nor could I myself look upon this man
without some emotion, for he seemed to be the identical person who had
picked up the ragged tunic in the lonely wood, and, as a matter of fact,
he was! Ascyltos, afraid to believe the evidence of his own eyes for
fear of doing something rash, approached the man, as a prospective buyer,
took the hem of the tunic from the rustic's shoulders, and felt it
thoroughly.