“By Lyaeus,[245] but you are a scandal! Here, even here, in the house of Cinna, where temperance reigns supreme....” “Temperance is good--I knew that long ago, fair Lucilia.--But now, lend me your ear. Who--who--was that magnificent creature--that splendidly-developed woman who sat at the end, quite at the bottom of the table, not far from your worthy--your--what is her name--Baucis. She wore a brown dress--an elegant bracelet clasped her arm....” “Who can you mean?” asked Lucilia, looking round her; Herodianus also looked about. “There, there she is,” he whispered rapturously: “She is talking to Ulpius Trajanus. Ye gods! what a form! what grace and dignity!” Lucilia made a desperate effort and swallowed her laughter. “That?” she said, irresistibly tempted to carry on the jest: “That short, stout woman by the pillar?” “Just going into the hall.” “That is Chloe, who brought up our sweet friend Cornelia. She is a native of Antium, the daughter of a freedman, six and thirty years of age, unmarried, and possessor of a little fortune--what more can heart desire? In truth, Herodianus, I admire your distinguished taste: that round face, that short fat throat, that wide mouth--wider even than mine--are these not heaven-sent gifts from Cypris herself?” “To me she is divine. Past the first bud of youth, mature in body and mind; Chloe stirs my soul to feelings, which till this hour I had never appreciated. Fifty years old--and even now unblest with the joys of family life! Oh Chloe! Chloe! If only you had crossed my path earlier!... I ... I might not have drunk so much Caecubum and Falernian! When Hymen opens his bosom to receive us, the rock of offence fades away.... Alas mistress, if the spring-tide of life could but blossom for me once more! If I could again rest my head on the bosom of a loving woman...! Trajectum, city of my heart, home of my youth! I remember to this day how my mother--for the last time--cut my hair. It was up in the little corner room. How long, long ago! Oh! if only I were away, far away from here! What have I left to live for in this world? A cup of wine! Oh! woe is me!” And he began to cry copiously, but noiselessly. Lucilia thought it advisable to leave the man’s strange mood to run its course. “Is it in earnest or a mere craze?” she thought, as she shook her head. Then she danced off to join Cornelia, who was sitting under the arcade, listening with half indifferent attention to the muttered counsels of Baucis. “What Pythian wisdom are you uttering now, O blue-robed Baucis?” asked Lucilia, patting the slave-woman lightly on the shoulder. “Wisdom that you would do well to profit by,” retorted Baucis. “A new veil or an amusing book is, I know, dearer to you far than the most sacred oracles.” “Indeed? Who told you that? Chatter away in all confidence!--on the contrary--if what you told me the other day about Barbillus,[246] the priest of Isis, is true....”