“I could not sleep and stole away softly from Claudia’s side. She is still asleep, for she came to bed very late. But you, my respected friend--what has brought you out before daybreak? You, the latest sleeper of all the sons of Rome?” “I was just like you. I think the strong liquor we drank at supper last night....” “A vain excuse,” said Lucilia. “When ever did good wine rob you of a night’s rest? Sooner could I believe that you were thinking of Cornelia!” “What should make you think that?” “Well, it is a natural inference. For what else are you her betrothed? To be sure you do not play the part with much zeal.” “How so?” “Well, do you not go to see Lycoris just as much now as ever you did?” “Pah!” “‘Pah!’ What need have you to say ‘Pah!’ in that way? Is that right? Is that horrid, shameless creature, who seems to turn all the men’s heads, a fit companion for a man who is betrothed? I know you _love_ Cornelia--but this is a spiteful world, and supposing Cornelia were to learn....” “Well, and if she did?” said Quintus smiling. “Is it a crime to frequent gay society, to see a few leaps and turns of Gades dancers and to eat stewed muraenae?[98] Is there anything atrocious in fireworks or flute-playing?” “How eloquent you can be! You might almost make black seem white. But I abide by my words; it is most unbecoming, and if you would but hear reason you would give this woman up.” “But pray believe me, there never was a pretty girl for whom I cared less than for Lycoris.” “Indeed! and that is why you are as constantly in her house as a client in that of his patron.”[99] “The comparison is not flattering.” “But exact. Why should you frequent her house so constantly, if you are so indifferent to her?” “Child, you do not understand such matters. Her house is the centre of all the wit and talent in Rome. Everything that is interesting or remarkable meets there; it is in her rooms that Martial[100] utters his most pregnant jests, and Statius reads his finest verses. Everyone who lays any claim to talent or wit, whether statesmen or courtiers, knights or senators, uses the atrium of Lycoris as a rendezvous. Last autumn I even met Asprenas[101] the consul there. Where such men as these are to be seen, Quintus Claudius, at three and twenty, may certainly be allowed to go.” “Quite the contrary,” cried Lucilia. “If you had grey hair, like Nonius Asprenas, I would not waste words on the matter. But as it is, the Gaulish Circe will end by falling in love with you, and then you will be past praying for.” Quintus looked gaily at the girl’s smiling, mocking face. “You mean just the reverse,” he said. “For I know you regard me as far from dangerous. Well! I can bear even that blow.” “That is your new mood! There is no touching you in any way. If you had only half as much constancy of mind as Aurelius!” “Ah! you like him then?”