So it was that on a certain day when Marsyas overtook a lectica in the street, the old man within complained aloud and had no audience, except his plodding bearers, or the attention of a glance, or a slackened step now and again among the citizens.
"They rob me!" he was crying when Marsyas came up with him.
The young man turned quickly; the declaration was alarming. His eyes encountered the face of Peter, the usurer, a stout, gray old Jew, in the apparel of a Sadducee.
Seeing that he had won the young man's notice the old usurer seized the opportunity to enlarge.
Marsyas bowed gravely. "Thy pardon, sir," he said. "May I be of service?"
"They sap my life!" the old man continued more violently, as if the young man's question had excited him. "They take, and demand more; they waste, and must be replenished! I drop into the grave and there will be nothing left to buy a tomb to receive me!"
The words were directed to Marsyas, and the young man having halted could not go on without awkwardness.
"I pray thee," he urged, "tell me who plagues thee thus."
"The tradesmen! Because I am wealthy, they augment their hire; because I must buy, they increase their price; they hold necessities out of my reach! It is a conspiracy between them because I am of lowly birth, and I go from one to another and find no relief! Behold!" He shook out a shawl which had been folded across his knees. "I must have it to protect me against the cold. It is inferior; it is scant; yet it cost me fifteen pieces of silver!"
Marsyas glanced at the mantle; even with his little knowledge of fabrics it appeared not worth its price.
"Thou hast servants, good sir, and camels," he said, drawn into suggestion in spite of himself. "Do I overstep my privilege to suggest that thou mayest send to Anthedon or to Cæsarea and buy in other cities?"
"But the hire--the hire! And how should I know that the knavery does not extend to Anthedon and Cæsarea?"
"Then," said Marsyas, "establish thine own booths here and undersell the robbers."
There was silence; the small eyes of the old man narrowed and ignited.
"A just punishment," he muttered. "A proper punishment!"
"Or this," Marsyas continued, interested in his own conspiracy. "Thou sayest they oppress thee because thou art a lowly man! They are foolish. Display them thy power and punish them. Thou art a great usurer; powerful families here are in thy debt. How strong a hand thou holdest over them! What canst thou not compel them to do! Nay, good sir; to me, it seemeth thou hast the whip-hand over these tradesmen!"