"Just look, he has buckled his broad German sword-belt over the vine drapery about his loins." "Perhaps for the sake of propriety," cried the other, laughing; "and actually, Dionysus is wearing a Vandal short-sword." "The Barbarian seems to be ashamed of being a naked god." "Then he has not yet lost _all_ shame!" exclaimed a man who had also understood the cautious whisper, striding rapidly on. "Come, Theudigisel!" "Did you understand that? It was the man with the spear. It did not sound like the Vandal tongue." "Yes, exactly like it. That's the way they speak in Spain! I heard it in Hispalis." "Hark, what a roaring on the ships!" "That must be a hymenæus, Victor! The bridegroom's brother composed it. The Barbarians now write Latin and Greek verses. But they are of their stamp." "Yes, listen, Lauras," cried the other, laughing; "you are prejudiced, as a rival! Since you failed in your leather business, you have lived by writing, O friend! Weddings, baptisms, funerals, it was all the same to you. You have even sung the praises of the Vandal victories over the Moors, and--the Lord have mercy on us!--'the brave sword of King Hilderic.' Yes, you wrote for the Barbarians even more willingly and frequently than for us Romans." "Of course. The Barbarians know less, require less, and pay better. For the same reason, friend Victor, you too must wish, for the sake of your wine-shop, that the Vandals may remain rulers of Carthage." "How so?" "Why, the Barbarians know as little about good wine as they do about good verses." "Only half hit. They probably have a tolerably fair judgment of it. But they are always so thirsty that they will enjoy and pay for sour wine too--like your sour verses. Woe betide us when we no longer have the stupid Barbarians for customers! We should be obliged, in our old age, to furnish better wine and better poetry." "The ships will soon be here! We can see everything distinctly now. Look at the bridegroom's enormous goblet; the little Cupid can scarcely hold it; it seems familiar to me." "Why, of course. That's surely the immense shell from the Fountain of Neptune in the Forum,--larger than a child's head!" "Yes, it has been missing for several days. Oh, the Germans would drain the ocean if it were full of wine." "And just see the hundred weight of gold which they have hung on poor Aphrodite." "All stolen, plundered Roman property. She can hardly move under the weight of her jewels." "Modesty, Victor, modesty! She has not much clothing except her jewels." "It's not the poor girl's fault apparently. That insolent Cupid just snatched off the sailcloth and flung it into the sea. See how confused she is, how she tries to find some drapery. She is beseeching the bride, pointing to the large white silk coverlet at her feet." "Little Ariadne is nodding; she has picked it up; now she is throwing it over Aphrodite's shoulders. How grateful she looks!"