"
"I understand, my poor Socrates, it doesn't help you cut a figure. Now
with me it was so different! Oh, how they buried me, how magnificently
they buried me, my poor fellow-Wanderer! I still think with great
pleasure of those lovely moments after my death. First they washed me
and sprinkled me with well-smelling balsam. Then my faithful Larissa
dressed me in garments of the finest weave. The best mourning-women of
the city tore their hair from their heads because they had been
promised good pay, and in the family vault they placed an amphora--a
crater with beautiful, decorated handles of bronze, and, besides, a
vial.--"
"Stay, friend Elpidias. I am convinced that: the faithful Larissa
converted her love into several minas. Yet--"
"Exactly ten minas and four drachmas, not counting the drinks for the
guests. I hardly think that the richest tanner can come before the
souls of his ancestors and boast of such respect on the part of the
living."
"Friend Elpidias, don't you think that money would have been of more
use to the poor people who are still alive in Athens than to you at
this moment?"
"Admit, Socrates, you are speaking in envy," responded Elpidias,
pained.
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