“Euterpe!” breathed the worthy Herodianus. “Heavenly consonance! Is she a Greek?” “She is from Etruria, and was formerly the slave of Marcus Cocceius Nerva, who freed her. She married in Cumae not long since.” “As strictly historical as the annals of Tacitus,” laughed Claudia. “I heard it all from Baucis.” “Wretched old magpie!” exclaimed Quintus, intentionally raising his voice. “If she could not gossip, she would lose the breath of life.” “By all the gods, my lord!” exclaimed Baucis, laying her hands on her heart, “you are calumniating me greatly--do you grudge me a little harmless chat? All-merciful Isis! am I to close my lips with wax? No, by Typhon[84] the cruel! Besides, I must instruct the daughters of the house; it is for that that I eat the bitter crust of dependence in my old age. Oh! Baucis knows her duties; have I not taught Claudia to sing and play the cithara? Have I not taught Lucilia more than a dozen Egyptian formulas and charms? and now I add to this a little sprinkling of knowledge of the world and of men--and you call it gossip! You young men of the present day are polite, I must say!” “Then you sing to the cithara?”[85] said Aurelius, turning to Claudia. “Oh, let me, I beg of you, hear one of your songs!” “With pleasure,” said the girl coloring slightly. “With your permission, dear mother...?” “You know my weakness,” replied Octavia. “I am always only too glad to hear you sing. If our noble guest’s request is not merely politeness....” “It is a most heartfelt wish,” cried Aurelius. “Your daughter’s voice is music when she only speaks--in singing it must be enchanting.” “I think so too, indeed,” added Herodianus. “Oh, we Northmen are connoisseurs in music. The Camenae visit other spots than Helicon and the seven hills of Rome; they have taken Trajectum too under their protection. Had I but been born in Hellas, where Zeus so lavishly decked the cornucopia of the arts with such pure and ideal perfection....” “Herodianus, you are talking nonsense!” interrupted the young Batavian. “I am afraid that the old Falernian we drank at dinner, was too strong for your brain.” “I beg your pardon! that would be very unlike me. Since Apollo first laid me in my cradle, temperance has been my most conspicuous virtue....” A slave girl had meanwhile brought in the nine-stringed cithara and the ivory plectrum; Claudia took them from her with some eagerness, put the ribbon of the lute round her neck and sat upright on her easy-chair. She turned the pegs here and there to put the instrument in tune, struck a few chords and runs as a prelude, and began a Greek song--the delightful Spring-greeting of Ibycus the Sicilian:[86] “Spring returns, and the gnarled quince[87] Fed by purling and playful brooks Decks its boughs with its rosy flowers Where, beneath in the twilight gloom, Nymph-like circles of maidens dance; While the sprays of the budding grape Hide ’mid shadowy vine leaves.