Book 2

1.1. Leonas, having ordered Phocas the steward to take great care of the woman, set out himself while it was still night for Miletus, eager to bring his master the good news about the newly bought slave, thinking it would bring him great consolation in his grief. He found Dionysius still lying abed; for, distracted by his sorrow, he hardly went out, though his country longed for him, but stayed in his chamber as though his wife were still with him.

1.2. Seeing Leonas, he said to him, "This one night, since the death of that poor woman, I have slept sweetly; for I saw her plainly, grown taller and lovelier, and she was with me as in waking life. I thought it was the first day of our wedding and that I was bringing her as a bride from my estates by the sea, while you sang the wedding-hymn for me." While he was still telling this,

1.3. Leonas cried out, "You are fortunate, master, both in dream and in waking life. You are about to hear of the very things you have beheld." And beginning his account, he said, "A merchant came to me selling a most beautiful woman, but because of the customs-officers he anchored his ship outside the city, near your estates.

1.4. And I, having made the agreement, went off to the country. There, when we had come together, we as good as completed the sale; for I gave him a talent. But the deed of sale must be drawn up here

1.5. according to law." Dionysius was glad to hear of the woman's beauty—for he was truly fond of women—but was displeased at her slavery; for being a man of royal rank, surpassing all Ionia in dignity and culture, he disdained the bed of a maidservant, and said, "It is impossible, Leonas, that a beautiful body should not be of free birth. Do you not hear the poets, that the beautiful are children of the gods, and long before that of well-born men? She pleased you in a lonely place, for you compared her with the country women.

1.6. But since you have bought her, go to the marketplace; Adrastus, the man most experienced in the laws, will arrange the deeds of sale." Leonas was glad to be disbelieved; for the unexpected would strike his master the more. Going about all the harbors of Miletus and the banks and the whole city, he could nowhere find Theron.

1.7. He questioned merchants and ferrymen, but no one knew him. Then, in great perplexity, he took a rowing boat and sailed along to the shore and from there to the estate; but he was not likely to find the man who was already at sea. So at last, slowly and reluctantly, he went off to his master.

1.8. Dionysius, seeing him gloomy, asked what had happened to him; and he said, "I have lost you a talent, master." "That happening," said Dionysius, "will make you more careful for the future. But what has happened? Has the newly bought slave run away?" "Not she," he said, "but the man who sold her." "He was a kidnapper, then, and that is why he sold you another man's slave in a lonely place.

1.9. Where did he say the woman was from?" "From Sybaris in Italy, sold by her mistress out of jealousy." "Find out whether any people from Sybaris are in town; and in the meantime leave the woman there." So Leonas went off grieving, thinking his enterprise had not turned out well; and he watched for an opportunity to persuade his master to go out to the estates, having now one hope left—the sight of the woman.

2.1. The country women came in to Callirhoe and at once began to flatter her as their mistress. Plangon, the steward's wife, no idle creature, said to her, "You are surely longing, my child, for your own people; but believe that here too you have your own; for Dionysius, our master, is good and kind. By good fortune the god has brought you into a good house.

2.2. You will live as in your own country. So wash off the salt from the long voyage; you have maidservants." With difficulty, and against her will, she nevertheless brought her to the bath. When she went in, they anointed and cleansed her with care, and when she undressed they were the more astonished; so that, having admired her face while she was clothed, they thought they were now looking on a divine face. For her skin shone, white, with a kind of radiance, gleaming; and her flesh was so tender that they were afraid even the touch of their fingers might make a great wound.

2.3. They whispered quietly to one another, "Beautiful and famous indeed is our mistress; but this one might have passed for her maid." The praise grieved Callirhoe, and she was not without foreboding of what was to come. When she had bathed and they were binding up her hair, they brought her clean garments; but she said these were not fitting for a newly bought slave.

2.4. "Give me a slave's tunic; for you too are better than I am." So she put on something ordinary; and even that became her and seemed costly, lit up as it was by her beauty.

2.5. When the women had eaten, Plangon said, "Come to Aphrodite and pray for yourself; the goddess is manifest here, and not only the neighbors but those who come from the city sacrifice to her. Above all she gives ear to Dionysius; he has never

2.6. passed her by." Then they told of the goddess's manifestations, and one of the country women said, "You will think, woman, when you behold Aphrodite, that you are looking at an image of yourself." When Callirhoe heard this she was filled with tears and said to herself, "Alas for my misfortune! Here too is the goddess Aphrodite, the cause of all my evils. Yet I will go, for I wish to make many complaints to her."

2.7. The temple was near the villa, beside the highway itself. Callirhoe made obeisance and, taking hold of the feet of Aphrodite, said, "You first showed me Chaereas; but having joined a beautiful pair, you did not keep them so—and yet we honored you.

2.8. Since, then, you have willed it so, I ask one favor of you: make me please no man after him." To this Aphrodite refused her assent; for she is the mother of Love, and she was contriving yet another marriage—one which she did not mean to keep either.

Now that Callirhoe was free of pirates and the sea, she recovered her own beauty, so that the country people marveled to see her growing lovelier day by day.

3.1. Leonas, having found a suitable moment, brought such words to Dionysius: "It is now a long time, master, since you went to your estates by the sea, and the people there long for your presence. You must inspect the herds and the plantations, and the gathering of the crops presses on.

3.2. Enjoy too the costliness of the houses which we built at your bidding; and you will bear your grief more lightly there, drawn off by the pleasure and management of the lands. And if you commend some herdsman or shepherd, you may give him the newly bought woman." This pleased Dionysius, and he appointed the day for the journey.

3.3. When the order was given, the charioteers prepared the carriages, the grooms the horses, the sailors the ferryboats; friends were invited to travel with him, and a crowd of freedmen; for Dionysius was by nature magnificent.

3.4. When everything was ready, he ordered the equipage and the greater part of the company to go by sea, and the carriages to follow when he himself had gone ahead; for, he said, a procession was not fitting for a man in mourning. At dawn, before the multitude noticed, he mounted his horse, and Leonas was one of the five with him.

3.5. So Dionysius rode out to the country; and Callirhoe, having beheld Aphrodite that night, wished to make obeisance to her again. She stood praying, while Dionysius, leaping down from his horse, was the first to enter the temple. Hearing the sound of footsteps, Callirhoe turned toward him.

3.6. Then Dionysius, beholding her, cried out, "Be gracious, Aphrodite, and appear to me for my good." As he was already sinking down, Leonas caught him and said, "This, master, is the newly bought slave; be not at all disturbed. And you, woman, come forward to your lord." At the word "lord" Callirhoe let fall a stream of tears, bowing her head down, learning her servitude at last and unwillingly; and Dionysius, striking Leonas, said, "Most impious of men, do you speak to the gods as to human beings?

3.7. Do you say that this woman was bought with silver and that you could not find the seller? Have you not heard even Homer teaching us:

And the gods, in the likeness of strangers from afar, look upon the violence and the good order of men.

. . . "At least from now on stop mocking me and thinking that one is a god who is not even a fortunate human being."

3.8. As she spoke, her voice seemed to Dionysius something divine; for it sounded musical and gave back a tone like a lyre's. At a loss, then, and ashamed to converse further, he went off to the villa, already inflamed with love. Not long after, the equipage came from the city, and a swift report of what had happened ran abroad.

3.9. So all hurried to see the woman, but all pretended to be worshipping Aphrodite. Callirhoe, abashed at the crowd, did not know what to do; for everything was strange to her, and she could not even see her familiar Plangon, who was busy about the reception of the master.

3.10. As the hour advanced and no one came to the villa, but all stood there as if spellbound, Leonas understood what had happened and, coming to the precinct, led Callirhoe out. Then one might see that there are men who are kings by nature, as in a swarm of bees; for all followed her, as if by reason of her beauty she had been elected their mistress.

4.1. So she went off to her usual lodging; but Dionysius had been wounded and tried to conceal the wound. As a man of education and one who especially laid claim to virtue, unwilling to seem contemptible to his servants or boyish to his friends, he held out through the whole evening, thinking himself unobserved, but betrayed by his very silence.

4.2. Taking some portion from his dinner, he said, "Let someone carry this to the stranger-woman. But do not say it is from her lord, but that it is from Dionysius." He prolonged the drinking as much as possible; for he knew he was not going to sleep. He wished, then, to keep wakeful with his friends.

4.3. When the night was far advanced, he broke up the party; but sleep did not fall to his lot, and he was wholly in the temple of Aphrodite, recalling everything—her face, her hair, how she turned, how she looked at him, her voice, her bearing, her words; and her tears too inflamed him.

4.4. Then one might have seen a contest between reason and passion. For though plunged beneath his desire, the noble man tried to resist, and, as if from a wave, he kept lifting his head, saying to himself, "Are you not ashamed, Dionysius, you the first man of Ionia for virtue and renown, whom satraps and kings and cities admire, to suffer the troubles of a boy? Once you have seen her, you are in love—and that while in mourning, before you have made the rites for the spirits of your poor wife.

4.5. Was it for this that you came to the country, to celebrate a wedding in black, and the wedding of a slave at that—perhaps even another man's? For you do not even have the deed of sale for her." But Love strove against him as he reasoned well, and counted his self-control an outrage; and for this reason he burned the more fiercely a soul that played the philosopher in love.

4.6. No longer able, then, to endure conversing with himself alone, he sent for Leonas; and when he was summoned, Leonas understood the cause but pretended ignorance, and as if disturbed said, "Why are you awake, master? Has some grief over your dead wife laid hold of you again?" "Over a woman," said Dionysius, "but not over the dead one. I keep nothing secret from you, because of your goodwill and faith.

4.7. You have ruined me, Leonas. You are the cause of my troubles. You have brought fire into the house, or rather into my soul. And what disturbs me is the uncertainty about the woman. You tell me a tale of a winged merchant, of whom you know neither where he came from nor where he went off to again. Who is it that, having such beauty, sells in a lonely place for a talent what is worth a king's wealth? Some divinity has deceived you.

4.8. Take heed, then, and recall what happened. Whom did you see? With whom did you speak? Tell me the truth. You did not behold a ship." "I did not see one, master, but I heard of one." "There it is: one of the Nymphs or Nereids has come up out of the sea. There are times appointed by fate which bring even divinities under the necessity of consorting with men; the poets and historians tell us this."

4.9. Dionysius was glad to persuade himself to exalt the woman and to think her more venerable than belonged to human company. And Leonas, wishing to gratify his master, said, "Let us not inquire too curiously, master, who she is; I will bring her to you, if you wish, and have no grief. Are you failing

4.10. when you have the power of love?" "I will not do it," said Dionysius, "before I learn who the woman is and where she is from. At dawn, then, let us learn the truth from her. But I will summon her not here, lest we incur the suspicion of some violence, but where I first beheld her; let our conversation take place at the temple of Aphrodite."

5.1. This was resolved; and on the next day Dionysius, taking with him friends and freedmen and the most trusted of his servants, so that he might have witnesses too, came to the precinct, having arranged himself not carelessly, but adorning his person quietly, as one about to converse with the woman he loved.

5.2. He was by nature handsome and tall, and above all most dignified to look upon. Leonas, taking Plangon and with her the maidservants familiar to Callirhoe, came to her and said, "Dionysius is a most just and law-abiding man.

5.3. Come, then, to the temple, woman, and tell him the truth, who you are; for you will not fail of any just help. Only speak to him simply, and hide nothing of the truth; for this will the more call forth his kindness toward you." So Callirhoe walked unwillingly, yet taking courage because their conversation was to take place in a temple.

5.4. When she came, they all admired her still more. Dionysius, struck dumb, was speechless. After a long silence, at last and with difficulty he spoke: "My circumstances, woman, are all plain to you. I am Dionysius, the first man of the Milesians, and of nearly all Ionia, renowned for piety and kindness.

5.5. It is just that you too should tell us the truth about yourself; for those who sold you said you were from Sybaris, sold from there by your mistress out of jealousy." Callirhoe blushed and, bowing her head down, said quietly, "I am now sold for the first time; I have never seen Sybaris."

5.6. "I told you," said Dionysius, looking toward Leonas, "that she is no slave; and I divine that she is well-born too. Tell me everything, woman, and first your name." "Callirhoe," she said—and the name too pleased Dionysius—but the rest she kept silent. When he questioned her insistently, she said, "I beg you, master, allow me to keep silent about my fortune.

5.7. The first part was a dream and a tale; I am now what I have become, a slave and a stranger." As she said this she tried to hide it, but her tears flowed down her cheeks; and Dionysius was moved to weep, and all who stood around; and one might have thought that even Aphrodite herself had grown sadder. But Dionysius pressed her still more, inquiring closely, and said, "This favor I ask of you first.

5.8. Tell me your own story, Callirhoe. You will not be telling it to a stranger; for there is a kinship of character too. Fear nothing, even if you have done something dreadful." Callirhoe was indignant at this and said, "Do not insult me;

5.9. for I am conscious of nothing base in myself. But since my own affairs are more dignified than my present fortune, I do not wish to seem a boaster, nor to tell tales beyond belief to those who do not know me; for what went before does not bear witness to what is now." Dionysius admired the spirit of the woman and said, "I understand already, even though you do not speak; yet speak nevertheless. For you will tell nothing about yourself so great as what we see.

5.10. Any account is less brilliant than you are." So at last she began to tell her story: "I am the daughter of Hermocrates, the general of the Syracusans. Having fallen speechless from a sudden swoon, I was buried by my parents at great cost. Tomb-robbers opened the tomb; they found me breathing again; they brought me here, and Theron handed me over to this man Leonas in a lonely place." Telling all, she kept silent only about Chaereas.

5.11. "But I beg you, Dionysius—for you are a Greek, and have a share in a kindly city and in culture—do not become like the tomb-robbers, nor rob me of my country and kindred. It is a small thing for you, who are wealthy, to release one person; you will not lose the price if you give me back to my father; Hermocrates is not ungrateful. We all admire and love Alcinous because he sent the suppliant back to his country. I too entreat you.

5.12. Save a captive orphan girl. If I cannot live as a free woman, I choose a free death." Hearing this, he wept, on the pretext of Callirhoe, but in truth for himself; for he perceived that he was failing of his desire. "Take courage, Callirhoe," he said, "and have a good heart; for you will not fail of what you ask; I call this Aphrodite to witness. But in the meantime you shall have attendance among us as a mistress rather than a slave."

6.1. So she went off, persuaded that she could suffer nothing against her will; but Dionysius, grieving, came to his own house and, calling Leonas alone, said, "In everything I am unfortunate and hated by Love. I have buried my wife, and the newly bought slave is fleeing me—she whom I hoped was a gift to me from Aphrodite, and I was fashioning for myself a blessed life beyond Menelaus's, the husband of the Spartan woman; for I do not suppose that even Helen was so beautiful.

6.2. And she has too the persuasiveness of speech. My life is over. On the same day Callirhoe shall depart from here and I from life." At this Leonas cried out, "Do not, master, do not curse yourself; for you are her lord and have power over her, so that, willing or unwilling, she will do what seems good to you;

6.3. for I bought her for a talent." "You bought, you thrice-wretched man, the well-born woman? Do you not hear of Hermocrates, the general of all Sicily, greatly celebrated, whom the King of the Persians admires and loves, and to whom he sends gifts every year because he defeated in a sea-battle the Athenians, the enemies of the Persians? Shall I play the tyrant over a free body, and shall Dionysius, famed for self-control, outrage against her will one whom not even Theron the pirate outraged?"

6.4. This, then, he said to Leonas; yet he did not despair of persuading her—for love is by nature full of hope—and he trusted to win his desire by attendance and service. So calling Plangon, he said, "You have already given me sufficient proof of your care. I now put into your hands the greatest and most precious of my possessions, the stranger-woman. I wish her to lack nothing, but to go forward even to luxury.

6.5. Regard her as your mistress, serve and adorn her and make her a friend to us; praise me to her often, and tell of me as you know how. See that you do not call me master." Plangon understood the command, for she was by nature quick-witted; and at once turning her mind to the matter, she set off to it. Coming, then, to Callirhoe, she did not reveal that she had been ordered to serve her, but showed her own goodwill; and she wished to have her trust as a counselor.

7.1. And something of this kind occurred. Dionysius lingered in the country, on various pretexts at different times, but the truth was that he could neither part from Callirhoe nor was willing to bring her in; for once seen she was bound to become famous, and her beauty would enslave all Ionia, and the report of her would rise even to the great King.

7.2. While he stayed there, inquiring more closely into the management of the property, he found some fault with the steward Phocas; but the blame went no further, only to words. Plangon found her opportunity and ran in terrified to Callirhoe, tearing her own hair; and taking hold of her knees she said, "I beg you, mistress, save us; for Dionysius is angry with my husband; he is by nature quick-tempered, just as he is kind.

7.3. No one could rescue us but you alone; for Dionysius will gladly grant you a first favor when you ask it." Callirhoe hesitated to go to him; but as Plangon persisted and entreated, she could not refuse, being already pledged by the kindnesses done her by the woman. So that she might not seem ungrateful, she said, "I too am a slave and have no freedom of speech; but if you suppose that I too can be of some use, I am ready to join in entreaty; and may we succeed." When they came,

7.4. Plangon ordered the doorkeeper to announce to the master that Callirhoe was present. Dionysius happened to be lying prostrate with grief, and his body too was wasted. Hearing, then, that Callirhoe was present, he was struck dumb, and a kind of mist poured over him at the unexpected news; but barely recovering, he said, "Let her come."

7.5. Callirhoe, standing near and bowing her head down, was first filled with blushes, but at last with difficulty she spoke: "I owe gratitude to this Plangon; for she loves me as a daughter. I beg you, lord, do not be angry with her husband, but grant their safety."

7.6. Wishing to say more, she could not. So Dionysius, understanding the stratagem of Plangon, said, "I am angry, and no man could have saved Phocas and Plangon from perishing for what they did; but I grant them to you gladly, and know, you two, that for Callirhoe's sake you have been saved." Plangon fell at his knees, and Dionysius said, "Fall at Callirhoe's knees,

7.7. for it is she who saved you." When Plangon saw that Callirhoe was glad and greatly pleased at the gift, she said, "Then do you confess gratitude to Dionysius on our behalf," and at the same time she pushed her. And she, falling forward in a way, came against the right hand of Dionysius, and he, as if disdaining to give his hand, drew her to him and kissed her, then at once let her go, lest any suspicion of the trick should arise.

8.1. So the women went off, but the kiss sank like poison into the vitals of Dionysius, and he could neither see nor hear any longer, but was besieged on every side, finding no remedy for his love—neither by gifts, for he saw the woman's high-mindedness, nor by threat or force, being convinced that she would choose death sooner than be forced. So he supposed Plangon his one help, and summoning her he said, "Your first measures have been well managed, and I thank you for the kiss;

8.2. but that has either saved me or destroyed me. Consider, then, how, woman against woman, you may prevail, having me too for an ally. And know that freedom is set before you as a prize, and—what I am sure is far sweeter to you than freedom—the life of Dionysius." So Plangon, thus ordered, brought to bear every effort and device; but Callirhoe was on every side unconquered, and remained faithful to Chaereas alone.

8.3. Yet she was outgeneraled by fortune, against which alone human reasoning avails nothing; for that divinity is fond of strife, and nothing is past hope with her. And so at that time too she accomplished a strange thing, or rather an incredible one; and the manner of it is worth hearing.

8.4. Fortune plotted against the woman's chastity. For Chaereas and Callirhoe, having made the first union of their marriage a thing of passion, had felt a like impulse toward the enjoyment of each other, and a balanced desire made their intercourse not barren.

8.5. So a little before her fall the woman conceived. But because of the dangers and hardships that followed, she did not quickly realize that she had become pregnant; but as the third month began, her belly grew; and in the bath Plangon understood, as one who had experience of women's matters.

8.6. At first she kept silent, because of the number of the maidservants; but toward evening, when there was leisure, sitting beside her on the couch she said, "Know, my child, that you are with child." Callirhoe broke into weeping and, wailing and tearing her hair, said, "This too, Fortune, you have added to my misfortunes, that I should bear

8.7. a slave." And striking her belly she said, "Wretched, you have become wretched before you were born; you have been delivered into a tomb and the hands of pirates. Into what kind of life are you coming? On what hopes am I to carry you, orphaned and without a country and a slave? Before your birth, make trial of death." Plangon held her hands and promised that on the next day she would prepare for her an easier abortion.

9.1. Each of the women, when she was by herself, took her own counsel: Plangon, that a suitable moment had appeared for accomplishing her master's love, having the child in the womb as advocate—"a pledge of persuasion has been found; a mother's tenderness will conquer a woman's chastity." And so she put together the plan plausibly;

9.2. while Callirhoe deliberated about destroying the child, saying to herself, "Shall I, then, bear to a master the descendant of Hermocrates, and bring forth a child whose father no one knows? Perhaps one of those who envy me will say, 'In the pirates' den Callirhoe conceived.' It is enough that I alone should be unfortunate.

9.3. It is not to your advantage, child, to come into a wretched life, which even at birth you ought to flee. Depart free, untouched by evils. Hear none of the tales about your mother." But again she changed her mind, and somehow pity for the child within her came over her. "Are you planning to kill your own child, most impious of all women, and taking on the reasonings of Medea?

9.4. Why, you will seem wilder even than the Scythian woman; for she had her husband as an enemy, but you wish to kill the child of Chaereas and to leave behind not even a memorial of your celebrated marriage. What if it is a son? What if it is like its father? What if it is more fortunate than I? Shall a mother kill the one saved from the tomb and from pirates?

9.5. How many children of gods and kings do we hear of, born in slavery, who afterward recovered the rank of their fathers—Zethus and Amphion and Cyrus? You too, child, shall sail with me to Sicily; you shall seek out your father and grandfather and tell them your mother's story. A fleet shall be brought out from there to help me.

9.6. You, child, shall give back the parents to each other." As she reasoned thus through the whole night, sleep came over her for a little while. And the likeness of Chaereas stood beside her,

resembling him in everything, in stature and in beautiful eyes, and in voice, and such garments was he clothed about his body.

And standing he said, "I commit my son to you, woman." While he still wished to speak, Callirhoe started up, wishing to embrace him. So, considering her husband her counselor, she resolved to rear the child.

10.1. On the next day, when Plangon came, she made known to her her decision. But Plangon did not accept the unseasonableness of the plan, and said, "It is impossible for you, woman, to rear a child among us; for our master, being disposed to you with love, will not force you against your will, out of respect and self-control, but will not permit you to rear a child, out of jealousy, thinking himself insulted if you hold the absent man in such regard but slight him when he is present.

10.2. It seems to me, then, better that the child should perish before its birth than after. For so you will be spared useless labor-pains and a fruitless pregnancy. And I, loving you, give you true counsel." Callirhoe heard this with grief, and falling at her knees she begged her to help find some device

10.3. by which she might rear the child. So, after many refusals, putting off her answer for two or three days, when she had inflamed Callirhoe the more toward entreaty and made herself the more to be trusted, she first made her swear to tell no one of the device, and then, knitting her brows and rubbing her hands, said, "Great matters, woman, are brought to success by great contrivances; and I, because of my goodwill toward you, will betray my master.

10.4. Know, then, that one of two things must be: either the child must perish utterly, or be born the wealthiest of the Ionians, heir of the most brilliant house. And he will make you, his mother, blessed. Choose, then, which you wish." "And who," she said, "would be so foolish as to choose the killing of her child instead of happiness? But you seem to me to be saying something impossible and incredible, so make it plainer."

10.5. Plangon then asked, "How long do you think it is since you conceived?" And she said, "Two months." "Time, then, is on our side; for you can seem to have borne to Dionysius a seven-months child." At this Callirhoe cried out,

10.6. "Rather let it perish." And Plangon spoke mockingly to her: "You are right, woman, to wish rather to miscarry. Let us do this; for it is less dangerous than to deceive a master. Cut off from yourself on every side the tokens of your noble birth,

10.7. and let there be no hope of your country. Adapt yourself to your present fortune and become wholly a slave." As Plangon urged this, Callirhoe suspected nothing, a girl of noble birth and inexperienced in the cunning of slaves; but the more eagerly Plangon pressed for the destruction of the child, the more Callirhoe pitied the one in her womb, and said, "Give me time for reflection; for the choice is about the greatest things,

10.8. either my chastity or my child." Again Plangon praised this, that she did not rashly choose either; "for the inclination to each side is persuasive: the one has a woman's faithfulness, the other a mother's tenderness. Yet there is no time for long delay, but on the next day you must by all means hold to one or the other, before your pregnancy becomes known." They agreed on this and parted from each other.

11.1. Going up to the upper chamber and shutting the doors, Callirhoe set the likeness of Chaereas against her belly and said, "See, we have become three—husband and wife and child. Let us take counsel about what is for the common good. I, then, am the first to declare my opinion: I wish to die the wife of Chaereas alone. This is sweeter to me than parents and country and child—to take no trial of another husband.

11.2. But you, child, on your own behalf, what do you choose? To die by poison before you have seen the sun, and to be cast out with your mother, perhaps not even thought worthy of burial—or to live and have two fathers, the one the first man of Sicily, the other of Ionia? When you become a man you will easily be recognized by your kindred; for I am sure I shall bear you like your father; and you shall sail home gloriously on a Milesian trireme, and Hermocrates will gladly receive a grandson

11.3. already able to be a general. You cast against me, child, a contrary vote, and do not allow us to die. Let us ask your father too. Or rather he has already spoken; for he himself, standing beside me in my dreams, said, 'I commit my son to you.' I call you to witness, Chaereas:

11.4. you are giving me as a bride to Dionysius." So through that day and night she was in these reflections, and not for her own sake but for the infant's she was persuaded to live; and on the next day Plangon came, and first sat down gloomy and showed a sympathetic bearing,

11.5. and there was silence between them both. When a long time had passed, Plangon asked, "What have you decided? What are we to do? For there is no time for delay." Callirhoe could not answer quickly, weeping and confused, but at last she said, "The child betrays me against my will; do you do what is expedient; but I am afraid that, even if I submit to the outrage, Dionysius may despise my fortune and, thinking me a concubine rather than a wife, may not rear the child born of another,

11.6. and I shall have lost my chastity in vain." While she was still speaking, Plangon broke in and said, "I myself have considered these things before you; for I already love you more than my master. I trust, then, in the character of Dionysius, for he is good; yet I will make him swear an oath, even though he is master; we must do everything safely. And you too, child, see that you make a return. But I will go and carry the embassy."