We had one child, a little girl which died within two years of her birth, and then I learned what sorrow can mean to man.

At first my wife was sad, but her grief departed with time and she smiled again as she used to do.

Only she said that she would bear no more children for the gods to take.

Having little to do she began to go about the city and make friends whom I did not know, for of these, being a beautiful woman, she found many.

The end of it was that she departed back to Thebes with a soldier whom I had never seen, for I was always working at home thinking of the babe who was dead and how happiness is a bird that no man can snare, though sometimes, of its own will, it flies in at his window-place.
It was after this that my hair went white before I had counted thirty years.
Now, as I had none to work for and my wants were few and simple, I found more time for the writing of stories which, for the most part, were somewhat sad.