[250] THE MEANEST SUBURB. Butuntum, a little city in Apulia, now Bitonto, is used by Martial (_Ep._ II, 48 and IV, 55) as a synonym for “quiet provincial town,” as the inhabitants of Berlin say: “Treuenbrietzen” or “Perleberg.” [251] UTTER CONTEMPT. One of the principal amusements of gay young men was to play pranks in the streets at night, usually on the proletarii. A special favorite was the _Sagatio_, which consisted in putting some unfortunate wight in a cloak, and tossing him up and down like Sancho Panza. CHAPTER XII. It was the middle of the second vigil--between ten and eleven o’clock at night by our reckoning of time--and the house of Cornelius Cinna was sunk in silent repose. The lamp in the peristyle was extinguished, and the last guests--Claudia, Lucilia and Quintus--had left about half an hour since.... There was a sound of steps in the colonnade--soft, cautious, and mysterious. Two women wrapped in large cloaks went to the back door,[252] followed by a sturdy slave. “Oh! my sweet mistress,” whispered Chloe, as she opened the little gate, “you may believe it or not, but my knees shake beneath me. If your uncle were to discover us...! It would be the death of me!” “Silence!” replied Cornelia. “My uncle is sound asleep. And even if he were to find out....” “Oh yes! I know very well, you are not afraid of his anger. And in fact what could he do to you? But I--ye merciful gods!--Are you quite certain that the priest expects us?” “Perfectly certain. Aspasia brought me a quite distinct message.” “Well then--I wash my hands in innocence. It is fearfully dark out here--I shall be truly thankful, if nothing dreadful happens to us.” “Silly thing! The Temple of Isis is quite near at hand, and Parmenio is with us.” Chloe closed the door behind her and sighed deeply; still she made one more attempt to stop her mistress. “Must it be to-day?” she said plaintively. “Yes, this very hour. When the day is done in which the dream was seen, the seer’s power is gone. You heard Baucis say so.” “Baucis!” said Chloe contemptuously. “She only repeated the priest’s words. Make haste; minutes are precious. Go in front, my good Parmenio.” They went down the street and turned to the right along a narrow alley, which zigzagged between high walls and led them to the back of the temple of Isis. They presently reached the vestibule of Barbillus, where a slave was waiting behind the door with a gilt lantern; he bowed low and led them, without speaking a word, to an upper room.