“Who? What?” cried the poet himself, hastily looking round. “What Ravidus[158] is here, to take up the cudgels against my iambics?” This quotation from Catullus, the favorite poet and model of the epigrammatist, did not fail of its point, for every one, with the single exception of the blushing Aurelius, was reminded by it that Ravidus was, in that passage, called a “crazed and witless wretch.” “It was I,” said Aurelius coolly. “But it was not your verse that I criticised, but ... however, you heard. If a woman is no more to you than the beetle, the snake that wriggles in the dust, I can but pity your experience.” “Yours then has been more fortunate?” laughed Martial. “I should hope so, indeed!” Lycoris, who, though at some distance, must have heard every word, was chatting vehemently with Stephanus, her neighbor on her left, who kept his gaze alert, though with an air of reserve and dignity. Two of her companions, pretty but by no means maidenly personages, stared contemptuously at Aurelius as if to say: “Well, what a booby!” “Here is to your health, worthy Cato of the North!” cried Martial mockingly. “Reveal his name to me, O Muse! and I will dedicate to you five and twenty epigrams on his virtue.” “He has a sharp muzzle,” muttered Norbanus to Aurelius. “You will get the worst of it.” “No doubt of that,” said Aurelius. “Fencing with words was never my strong ground.” “Just my case; and I cannot stand his accursed ribaldry. These fellows are like eels, it is impossible to hold them. It is the city tone, my dear friend! Our Stephanus now--only see how the man is made up--now, full in the light. By Castor! he is touched up and painted like a wench--Stephanus again, is a master in the war of words. But he gives you a pebble for a gem; everything about him is false, even his hair. But beware of him; he will try to make mince-meat of you.” “I say, Martial,” said a harsh voice: “Who is going to publish the epigrams you gave us to-day?” “I do not yet know. Possibly Tryphon.”[159] “And when, my friend?” “Well, in the course of the month.” “So soon? Listen, when the book comes out, may I send to you to borrow a copy?” “You are too kind, my dear Lupercus; but why should you give yourself and a slave so much trouble? I live quite high up on the Quirinal.[160] You can get what you want much nearer to you. You pass every day by the Argiletum. There you will find a very interesting shop, exactly opposite the Forum of Caesar. Atrectus, the bookseller, will feel himself honored in selecting a beautiful copy for you--almost given away too, as I may say, for with purple letters and smoothly pumiced it costs but five or six denarii.”[161] “Six denarii!” exclaimed Lupercus. “That is too dear for me. I have to be saving with my money.” “And I must be saving with my books.” “It is not every one, who knows how to be obliging!”