To my sorrow, in my sober moments, with the wine on table, [342] I myself was witness of your criminality, when you thought I was asleep. I saw you _both_ uttering many an expression by moving your eyebrows; [343] in your nods there was a considerable amount of language. Your eyes were not silent, [344] the table, too, traced over with wine; [345] nor was the language of the fingers wanting; I understood your discourse, [346] which treated of that which it did not appear to do; the words, too, preconcerted to stand for certain meanings. And now, the tables removed, many a guest had gone away; a couple of youths _only_ were _there_ dead drunk. But then I saw you _both_ giving wanton kisses; I am sure that there was billing enough on your part; such, _in fact_, as no sister gives to a brother of correct conduct, but _rather such_ as some voluptuous mistress gives to the eager lover; such as we may suppose that Phoebus did not give to Diana, but that Venus many a time save to her own _dear_ Mars. "What are you doing?" I cried out; "whither are you taking those transports that belong to me? On what belongs to myself, I will lay the hand of a master, [347] These _delights_ must be in common with you and me, _and_ with me and you; _but_ why does any third person take a share in them?" This did I say; and what, _besides_, sorrow prompted my tongue to say; but the red blush of shame rose on her conscious features; just as the sky, streaked by the wife of Tithonus, is tinted with red, or the maiden when beheld by her new-made husband; [348] just as the roses are beauteous when mingled among their _encircling_ lilies; or when the Moon is suffering from the enchantment of her steeds; [349] or the Assyrian ivory [350] which the Mæonian woman has stained, [351] that from length of time it may not turn yellow. That complexion _of hers_ was extremely like to these, or to some one of these; and, as it happened, she never was more beauteous _than then_. She looked towards the ground; to look upon the ground, added a charm; sad were her features, in her sorrow was she graceful. I had been tempted to tear her locks just as they were, (and nicely dressed they were) and to make an attack upon her tender cheeks. When I looked on her face, my strong arms fell powerless; by arms of her own was my mistress defended. I, who the moment before had been so savage, _now_, as a suppliant and of my own accord, entreated that she would give me kisses not inferior _to those given-to my rival_. She smiled, and with heartiness she gave me her best _kisses_; such as might have snatched his three-forked bolts from Jove. To my misery I am _now_ tormented, lest that other person received them in equal perfection; and I hope that those were not of this quality. [352]