'You mistake the symptoms, Vernon. You are possibly discomfited by the imposition, but sorrow postulates some sort of mind, intellect, _nous_. Your rendering of _probrosis_ alone stamps you as lower than the beasts of the field. Will some one take the taste out of our mouths? And--talking of tastes--' He coughed. There was a distinct flavour of chlorine gas in the air. Up went an eyebrow, though King knew perfectly well what it meant. 'Mr. Hartopp's st--science class next door,' said Malpass. 'Oh yes. I had forgotten. Our newly established Modern Side, of course. Perowne, open the windows; and Winton, go on once more from _interque maerentes_.' 'And hastened away,' said Winton, 'surrounded by his mourning friends, into--into illustrious banishment. But I got that out of Conington, sir,' he added in one conscientious breath. 'I am aware. The master generally knows his ass's crib, though I acquit _you_ of any intention that way. Can you suggest anything for _egregius exul_? Only "egregious exile"? I fear "egregious" is a good word ruined. No! You can't in this case improve on Conington. Now then for _atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor pararet_. The whole force of it lies in the _atqui_.' 'Although he knew,' Winton suggested. 'Stronger than that, I think.' 'He who knew well,' Malpass interpolated. 'Ye-es. "Well though he knew." I don't like Conington's "well-witting." It's Wardour Street.' 'Well though he knew what the savage torturer was--was getting ready for him,' said Winton. 'Ye-es. Had in store for him.' 'Yet he brushed aside his kinsmen and the people delaying his return.' 'Ye-es; but then how do you render _obstantes_?' 'If it's a free translation mightn't _obstantes_ and _morantem_ come to about the same thing, sir?' 'Nothing comes to "about the same thing" with Horace, Winton. As I have said, Horace was not a journalist. No, I take it that his kinsmen bodily withstood his departure, whereas the crowd--_populumque_--the democracy stood about futilely pitying him and getting in the way. Now for that noblest of endings--_quam si clientum_,' and King ran off into the quotation: 'As though some tedious business o'er Of clients' court, his journey lay Towards Venafrum's grassy floor Or Sparta-built Tarentum's bay. All right, Winton. Beetle, when you've quite finished dodging the fresh air yonder, give me the meaning of _tendens_--and turn down your collar.' 'Me, sir? _Tendens_, sir? Oh! Stretching away in the direction of, sir.' 'Idiot! Regulus was not a feature of the landscape. He was a man, self-doomed to death by torture. _Atqui, sciebat_--knowing it--having achieved it for his country's sake--can't you hear that _atqui_ cut like a knife?--he moved off with some dignity. That is why Horace out of the whole golden Latin tongue chose the one word "tendens"--which is utterly untranslatable.'