"That you may have too," said the Illyrian. "You can select from your whole province, nay, the whole Empire. You, the highest official in Gaul, the Emperor's tutor and favorite, the celebrated poet and--" "And the richest match in the whole West," interrupted the nephew sharply. Hitherto he had remained persistently silent, his eyes cast down and the expression of his mouth covered by his hand. "The richest gray beard on this side of the Alps!" he added. "Yes, that is it," said Ausonius bitterly. "Herculanus only says openly and frankly what has secretly tortured me so much all these years, nay, what has alone deterred me. You know, my friend,--or rather, you blunt Tribune of the camp, you do not know,--for what reasons parents in our large cities marry their daughters, nay, how these girls themselves, almost before they have laid aside their dolls, instantly look out for 'a good catch'! In sooth, neither Eros nor Anteros, but Hermes and Plutus unite couples now." "Yes, they marry only for money!" cried Herculanus wrathfully. "I am poor; the girls all shun me--" The Tribune was about to answer, but only laughed and drank his wine. "Although I am nearly thirty years younger than my uncle! Fathers, mothers, guardians, nay, even the forward girls themselves, all cajole him, till I can scarcely warn and guard enough." "That's the way the bee-keeper guards the honey from the mice," growled the Illyrian under his breath. "My nephew is perfectly right. A friend of mine, Erminiscius, a rich merchant who deals in gems, fifty years old, married a girl of twenty. A week after, she disappeared with all his antique jewels and--his youngest freedman. Another, Euronius, a large owner of vineyards, somewhat older, married a young widow of twenty-five; that is--he was married by her; for she did not rest until she had him. Even before the wedding he was obliged to make his will; she dictated it to him word for word. He died at the next kalends--violent colic. I did not like it at all; I hate colic! And so many wild cherries grew close by his garden! You ought to see how much this double widow enjoys life now. She once paid me a visit--she is very beautiful and was bewitchingly amiable to me; but I thought of the dead Euronius's colic, and escaped unwedded. I don't imagine in all cases an elopement or a wild-cherry cake; every one is neither a Helena nor a Locusta. Suspicion is not usually one of my faults." "Rather the contrary," observed Saturninus. "But, I confess it, my gray hairs make me distrustful. I should be so unhappy--Apollo's richest laurels would not heal the wound--if I were forced to believe that I had been married only for the sake of my wealth. I do not deserve it."