‘Biberius Caldius Mero Caesar—phew!’ muttered Cestus, mechanically giving the Emperor his well‐known nickname, which his Imperial wine‐bibbing propensities had earned for him. So murmuring, the Suburan sank back again into his reclining posture against the bench, glaring at the potter. ‘Why, it would seem that I have taken a bolder flight than even the city wit and cleverness of my Roman kinsman could devise.’ ‘There is such a thing as taking too bold a flight for one’s welfare,’ replied the other, recovering his voice; ‘and country ignorance will plainly do many a thing which city wit would call folly. Had it been the last Caesar now—had it been Augustus, perhaps you would have been sensible. But this one! To go to Capreae—to run the risk of being drowned, or spitted, ere you set foot in the tiger’s lair—or, failing that, to be hauled before the tiger himself, and straightway hurled from the cliffs into the sea for a mad‐brained potter! Gods preserve us, Masthlion—have you taken leave of your senses?’ ‘I may have seemed like it some minutes back, but I have returned into my usual sober spirit now. At all events, I have the wit to see clearly what I intend to do.’ ‘You would never see Caesar—you would never be allowed to approach within eyeshot—not even to set foot on shore!’ ‘Nonsense, kinsman! Do you think we of Surrentum know not better than to believe an idle tale such as that? Do you think we are not better acquainted with our neighbours in Capreae, at our very doors here, than to be affrighted at such an ogre’s fable as yours? I will both set foot on the island and see Caesar to boot. Is it not often done by the folk along the coast here, whenever business demands?’ ‘And who never return. What of the dozens who are tortured and strangled and flung to the sharks by the blood‐thirsty old hermit?’ ‘Would the people ever continue to go if that were the case?’ ‘Do you say none are treated in the way I say?’ ‘There may be some so unlucky if they have offended; and Caesar is somewhat harsh and imperious as tyrants often are. But I am a neighbour and a Surrentine, and can make a fair reason for permission to go into Caesar’s presence—I have no fear or uneasiness. Stercus of the vineyard up there, frequently goes to Capreae and enters the Imperial presence.’ ‘By Hercules! I would I had known this before,’ quoth Cestus eagerly; ‘would it be possible for me to do the same thing?’ ‘I should not like to say,’ answered Masthlion, shaking his head; ‘strangers, from a distance, seem to be out of favour on the island. We natives have more license. Why, I know not; but strangers—especially those who go without authority, or business—will most likely rue their boldness. If you, a Roman, were to make a visit, out of sheer curiosity, you would, most likely, meet with rough handling.’ ‘Humph, then there is some advantage in being a Surrentine and not a Roman,’ said Cestus ironically. ‘So it would seem, in this instance,’ replied the potter.