The slave went on to relate how Quintus had delayed him and his comrades in the narrow hedge-grown passage. At each word Stephanus grew paler, and Quintus became more and more scornful in air and demeanor. “Are this man’s assertions founded on fact?” asked Stephanus as the slave ceased speaking. “How am I to interpret such a question?” “Exactly as I ask it. I am interested to know whether a son of the noble Claudia gens can so far--condescend, as to abet the flight of a criminal?” “That I did not say!” cried the slave, shocked. “Never mind!” said Quintus reassuringly, to the excited narrator. “You have spoken the truth, and I will vouch for it at any moment. When I was loitering in the gardens of our fair hostess, how should I guess that certain persons, who came upon me quite suddenly, were chasing a runaway slave? And even if I had guessed it, what is there to compel me to step among the thorns and briars, in order to make way for your thief-catchers?” “Politeness and a due regard for the interests of the commonwealth,” replied Stephanus drily. “However, what is done cannot be undone. It is all the more necessary to act promptly, in what yet remains to be done.” As he spoke he went close up to the blood-stained Hun, who, with his last remaining strength, lifted himself up and cast a wild glance round him. “You hardened hound,” he said in a rough, hoarse voice, “I will soften you! Do you see that cauldron? I ask you once more: Who are you? Who are your fellow-conspirators?” The gasping man’s breast heaved more rapidly. “Will you speak?” repeated Stephanus furiously. And now, for the first time the victim spoke; till now he had not uttered a sound. “No!” he cried with his last remnant of strength, and he sank back groaning. “Very well; then abide by your destiny.” At this moment Quintus Claudius stepped up to the slaves who held the cauldron, his arms crossed on his breast. “Enough of this horse-play!” he said curtly and vehemently. “Begone indoors, you parcel of idiots! I, Quintus Claudius, command you to go.” “And I, Stephanus, command you in the name of your mistress: remain and obey! Rufus, Daedalus, lay hold!” “We will solve this dilemma, as Alexander did in Gordium,” said Quintus scornfully, and with these words he pushed the slaves aside and gave the cauldron a mighty kick, so that the contents poured steaming out all over the terrace. “This is violence!”[187] exclaimed Stephanus, involuntarily raising his hands. “The violence of reason against bad taste and coarse feeling!” said Quintus with a scowling look. “I should advise you, freedman,[188] to keep your hand hidden away in the folds of your robe, or in the depths of your coffers and money-boxes, or Quintus Claudius might happen to squeeze that hand rather more tightly than you would like!”