This old heart clings to Alciphron, and throbs more
quickly at the mere mention of its darling's name; but verily you have
done little to win our affection. Last autumn the harvest of new wine
was more abundant than we expected. We lacked skins, and when we asked
you to help us with yours--"
"We said no, because we ourselves did not know what to do with the
harvest."
"And who shamefully killed my gray cat?"
"It entered Phaon's dove-cote and killed the young of his best pair of
cropper pigeons."
"It was a marten, not the good, kind creature. You are unfriendly in all
your acts, for when our brown hen flew over to you yesterday she was
driven away with stones. Did Phaon mistake her for a vulture with sharp
beak and powerful talons?"
"A maid-servant drove her away, because, since your master has been ill
and no longer able to attend to business, your poultry daily feeds upon
our barley."
"I'm surprised you don't brand us as robbers!" cried Semestre. "Yes, if
you had beaten me yourself with a stick, you would say a dry branch of a
fig or olive tree had accidentally fallen on my back. I know you well
enough, and Leonax, Alciphron's son, not your sleepy Phaon, whom people
say is roaming about when he ought to be resting quietly in the house,
shall have our girl for his wife.
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