Actæon's ear caught a faint rustling of sandals in the peristyle, and the square of pale gold thrown on the floor by the light entering the doorway from the courtyard was darkened by a form. It was Sónnica arrayed in a gauzy white tunic. The light behind her marked the artistic lines of her body in the diaphanous cloud of her garment.
"Welcome, Athenian!" she said, in a studied but harmonious voice. "Those who come from over _there_ are ever masters in my house. The banquet to-night shall be in your honor, for no one can be king of the feast and direct conversation like a son of Athens."
Actæon, somewhat stirred by the presence of a beautiful woman enveloped by intoxicating perfumes, began to speak of her house, of his astonishment at its magnificence in that barbarian land, and of the admiration which its owner enjoyed in the city. Everyone he met had spoken to him of Sónnica the rich!
"Yes, they like me; yet sometimes they censure me; but let us speak of you, Actæon; tell me who you are. Your life must be as interesting as that of old Ulysses. Tell me first what new thing there is in Athens."
For a long time the two Greeks maintained an incessant chattering. She was eager to know what courtesans triumphed in the Cerameicus and set the fashions; merry, unconsciously harking back to the life of old, forgetful of her princely opulence in Saguntum, as if she were still in the house in the Street of Tripods, and Actæon one of the poor artists who visited her of an afternoon to discuss affairs of the city, in the intimacy of comrades. She laughed at the latest witticisms of the idlers in the Agora, at the song in vogue the year before, when Actæon left Athens; and with frowning brow and the gravity of a goddess, she listened to a detailed relation of the recent changes of fashion and of the style of coiffure used by the most celebrated hetæræ.
The curiosity of the exiled Athenian being satisfied, she longed to penetrate the adventurous life of her guest, and Actæon told his story simply. Born in Athens, he had been taken to Carthage at twelve years of age. His father, in the service of the African republic, fought with Hamilcar in Sicily. In a village in the interior the selfsame slave attended the son of the Greek mercenary and a lion-cub of Hamilcar, who was at that time only four years of age. It was Hannibal. The Athenian recalled the blows he had often dealt the savage youngster in exchange for bites with which the African surprised him in the midst of their games. The revolt of the mercenaries broke out with those horrors which gave it the name of "the truceless war," and his father, who had remained faithful to Carthage and would not take up arms with his companions, was despite his loyalty crucified by the Carthaginian populace, who, forgetting his wounds received in the service of the Republic, saw in him only a foreigner, a friend of Hamilcar who was hated by the partisans of Hanno. The son miraculously escaped these red-handed reprisals; and Hamilcar's faithful slave smuggled him aboard ship for Athens.