"Oh," said he, "that's Trimalchio's wife. Her name is Fortunata. She has money to burn now, but a little while ago what do you suppose she was? Your honor will excuse me for saying so, but really in those days you wouldn't have taken a piece of bread from her hand. And now, without any why or wherefore, she's at the top notch and is all the world to Trimalchio--in fact, if she should say it was night at noonday, he'd believe her. As for Trimalchio himself, he's so rich that he doesn't know how much money he's got; but this jade has an eye to everything, even the things that you wouldn't think about yourself. She doesn't drink, she's as straight as a string--in fact, a really smart woman; but she has an awfully sharp tongue, a regular magpie on a perch. If she likes any one, she likes him way down to the ground, and if she doesn't like him, she just hates him! Trimalchio's estates are so large that it would tire a bird to fly over them, and he has heaps on heaps of cash. Take his silver plate, for instance. Why, there's more of it in his janitor's office than most persons have in their entire outfit; and his slaves--well, sir, they're so numerous that I don't think a tenth part of them would recognize their own master. In fact, when it comes to money, he can buy up any of these chumps here ten times over; and there's no reason for his paying out money for anything at all, because he produces everything on his own place--wool and cedar wood and pepper--why, if you were to ask for hens' milk, you'd get it. To give you an instance: He found that he wasn't getting very good wool, so he bought some rams at Tarentum and changed the breed of his sheep. Again, because he wanted to have Athenian honey right here on his estate, he imported bees from Athens, and incidentally these improved the breed of the native bees also. Only a few days ago he wrote and ordered mushroom-seed to be sent him from India. He hasn't a single mule on his place that wasn't sired by a wild ass. Just see how many cushions he has here. Every single one of them has either purple or scarlet stuffing. That's what I call being rich. But you're not to suppose that his associates here are to be sneezed at, for they've got plenty of rocks too. Just look at that man who has the last place at the table. Even he has to-day his little eight hundred thousand, and yet he started out with nothing. It wasn't very long ago that he was a porter carrying wood on his back through the street. But, as the saying goes, he found a fairy wishing-cup. I never grudge a man his good luck. It only means that he knows how to look out for himself; and this chap over here not long ago put up his shanty for sale with this sort of an advertisement: "'Gaius Pompeius Diogenes will let this lodging from July first, having just bought a large house for himself.'