"They are landing. I pity the poor bride. Disgrace and shame! She is the child of a freeborn Roman citizen, though of Greek origin. And the father--" "Where is Eugenes? I do not see him on the bridal ship." "He is probably ashamed to show himself at the sacrifice of his child. He went to Utica with his Sicilian guest on business long before the marriage, and after his return he will go with the Syracusan to Sicily. It is really like the ancient sacrifice of the maidens which the Athenians were obliged to offer to the Minotaur. He gives up Eugenia, the daintiest jewel of Carthage." "But they say she wanted to marry him; she loved the red giant. And he is not ugly; he is really handsome." "He is a Barbarian. Curses on the Bar--oh, pardon me, my most gracious lord! May Saint Cyprian grant you a long life!" He had hastily thrown himself on his knees before a half-drunken Vandal, who had nearly fallen over him, and without heeding the Roman's existence had already forced his way far to the front. "Why, Laurus! The Barbarian surely ran against you, not you against him?" said Victor, helping his countryman to his feet again. "No matter! Our masters are quick to lay their hands on the short-sword! May Orcus swallow the whole brood!" CHAPTER XIII Meanwhile the ships had reached the shore: they were moored in a broad front, side by side, greeted with a loud burst of music from pipes and drums in the balcony. Instantly all flung from their lofty prows step-ladders, covered with rich rugs. Slaves scattered flowers over the stairs, down which the bridal pair and their guests now descended to the land, while, at the same moment, by similar steps the spectators descended from the platforms. The two groups now formed in a festal procession upon the shore, A handsome though somewhat effeminate-looking young Vandal, with a winged hat on his fair locks and winged shoes on his feet, hurried constantly to and fro, waving an ivory staff twined with golden serpents. He seemed to be the manager of the entertainment. "Who is that?" asked Victor. "Probably the master of the beautiful Aphrodite. He is nodding; and she smiles at him." "Yes, that is Thrasabad," cried Laurus, angrily, clinching his fist, yet lowering his voice timidly. "May Saint Cyprian send scorpions into his bed! A Vandal writer! He is spoiling my trade. And I am the pupil of the great Luxorius." "Pupil? I think you were--" "His slave, then freedman. I have covered whole ass's skins with copies of his verses." "But not as his pupil?" "You don't understand. The whole art of composition consists of a dozen little tricks, which are best learned by copying, because they are constantly recurring. And this Barbarian composes gratis! Of course he must be glad to have any one listen to him." "He is leading the procession--as Mercury."