The old man pulled out a bench, and reguested them to rest their
limbs, while over the bench Baucis threw a rough blanket. Then she
raked over the warm ashes in the hearth, and brought yesterday’s
fire to life, feeding it with leaves and dried bark, nursing the flames
with her aged breath. She pulled down finely divided twigs and dry
stems from the roof, and, breaking them further, pushed them un¬
der a small bronze pot. Next she stripped the leaves from vegetables
that her husband had gathered from his well-watered garden. He
used a two- pronged stick to lift down a wretched-looking chine of
meat, hanging from a blackened beam, and, cutting a meagre piece
from the carefully saved chine, put what had been cut, to seethe, in
boiling water.
The gods then reveal themselves and, in exchange for the hospi¬
tality they have received, promise to fulfill the wish of their hosts.
Just en passant: everyone else is destroyed by a flood. The story of
Noah and Sodom in one — the Greek version.
We ask to be priests and watch over your temple, and, since we have
lived out harmonious years together, let the same hour take the two of
us, so that I never have to see my wife’s grave, nor she have to bury me.
That the two should be one forever. That the other should disap¬
pear forever. To make the “and” between Philemon and Baucis
permanently null and void. Their desire is fulfilled:
The gods’ assurance followed the prayer. They had charge of the
temple while they lived: and when they were released by old age,
and by the years, as they chanced to be standing by the sacred steps,
discussing the subject of their deaths, Baucis saw Philemon put out
leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis put out leaves, and as the tops
of the trees grew over their two faces, they exchanged words, while
they still could, saying, in the same breath: “Farewell, O dear com¬