300 DIPHILUS.

“T say it’s simple wrong,” cried Gripus. ‘“ Suppose
she’s a witch, and so knows what to say? Am I to
lose what I found because she’s a witch?”

“Tt’s all nonsense about witches,” said: Dzemones.
“ Open the trunk.”

The trunk was opened, and a casket, which Palzes-
tra at once recognized as hers, was found inside.
Dzemones told her to turn her back and describe its
contents.

“ First,” said the girl, “there is a little gold sword,
with letters on it.”

Dem. ‘What are the letters?”

Pal. “My father’s name. . Next, there is a little
hatchet, also of gold. That has not my father’s name
on it.”

Dem. “But stay. Your father’s name — what
was it?”

Pal, “Demones.”

“Dzemones!”’ cried the old man, astonished.
“Still, that is a common name enough. It might
not be the same. What was your mother’s?”

Pal. “ Deedalis.” ;

Dem. “She must be my daughter. But tell me
what else there is in the casket.”

Pal. “A little sickle in silver, and two hands
clasped, and a necklace which my father gave me
on my birthday.”

Dem. “Ah! so I did. I remember it, and here
it is again, the very thing! It is my own child!