she had seen pass her, richly dressed, and in a litter surrounded by slaves.
One day, when she had been beaten more brutally than usual, she was crouching down beside the gate, motionless and sulky, when an old woman stopped in front of her, looked at her for some moments in silence, and then cried —
"Oh, the pretty flower! the beautiful child! Happy is the father who begot thee, and the mother who brought thee into the world!"
Thaïs remained silent, with her eyes fixed on the ground. Her eyelids were red, and it was evident she had been weeping.
"My white violet," continued the old woman, "is not your mother happy to have nourished a little goddess like you, and does not your father, when he sees you, rejoice from the bottom of his heart?"
To which the child replied, as though talking to herself —
"My father is a wine-skin swollen with wine, and my mother a greedy horse-leech."
The old woman glanced to right and left, to see if she were observed. Then, in a fawning voice —
"Sweet flowering hyacinth, beautiful drinker of light, come with me, and you shall have nothing to do but dance and smile. I will feed you on honey cakes, and my son — my own son — will love you as his eyes. My son is handsome and young; he has
