And Agias constrained himself to depart.
"By Zeus!" was the exclamation he addressed to himself as he fought his way through the crowds toward his own quarters; "where will this all end?
How much longer are you going to lie in the toils of that most innocent of Circes?
Will she never open her eyes?
If I could only make her cry, 'I hate you!' there would be some hope; for when one hates, as I want her to, love is but a step away.

Confound that Sesostris! For me to have to sit there, and see that baboon kissed and fondled!" And so reflecting, he reached his rooms.

One of the luckless slave-boys who now addressed him as "Dominus," was waiting to tell him that a very gaunt, strange-looking man, with an enormous beard, had called to see him while he was out, and would return--so the visitor said--in the evening, for his business was important.

"Pisander," remarked Agias; and he stayed in that evening to meet the philosopher, although he had arranged to share a dinner with one or two other freedmen, who were his friends.
The man of learning appeared at a very late hour.

In fact, the water-clock showed that it wanted little of midnight before he came.
His explanation was that Valeria had called him in to read verses to a company of friends who were supping with her, and he could not get away sooner.