"Dada! that little fair puss! You see her day and night and an angel calls upon you to save that child's merry soul?
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, boy! Why, what shall I wager now?
I will stake this roll of gold that I could make her come with me to-morrow--with me, a hard-featured countryman, freckled all over like a plover's egg, where my clothes do not protect my skin, and with hair on end like the top of a broom--yes, that she will follow me to Arsinoe or wherever I choose to bid her.

Let the hussy go, you simple innocent.

Such a Soul as hers is of small account even in a less exclusive Heaven than yours is." "Take back those words!" cried Marcus, beside himself and clenching his fist.

"But that is just like you! Your impure eyes and heart defile purity itself, and see spots even in the sun.

Nothing is too bad for a 'singing girl,' I know.