tentive; at the conclusion, he took his hand from the dice-box, and called out, "Ho, my Caius! Dost thou hear?"
A youth at his elbow—his Myrtilus, or comrade, in the day’s chariot practice—answered, much pleased with the attention, "Did I not, my Messala, I were not thy friend."
"Dost thou remember the man who gave thee the fall to-day?"
"By the love-locks of Bacchus, have I not a bruised shoulder to help me keep it in mind?" and he seconded the words with a shrug that submerged his ears.
"Well, be thou grateful to the Fates—I have found thy enemy. Listen."
Thereupon Messala turned to Drusus.
"Tell us more of him—perpol!—of him who is both Jew and Roman—by Phœbus, a combination to make a Centaur lovely! What garments doth he affect, my Drusus?"
"Those of the Jews."
"Dearest thou, Caius?" said Messala. "The fellow is young—one; he hath the visage of a Roman—two; he loveth best the garb of a Jew—three; and in the palæstræ fame and fortune come of arms to throw a horse or tilt a chariot, as the necessity may order—four. And, Drusus, help thou my friend again. Doubtless this Arrius hath tricks of language; otherwise he could not so confound himself, to-day a Jew, to-morrow a Roman; but of the rich tongue of Athene—discourseth he in that as well?"
"With such purity, Messala, he might have been a contestant in the Isthmia."
"Art thou listening, Caius?" said Messala. "The fellow is qualified to salute a woman—for that matter Aristomache herself—in the Greek; and as I keep the count, that is five. What sayest thou?"
"Thou hast found him, my Messala," Caius answered; "or I am not myself."
"Thy pardon, Drusus—and pardon of all—for speaking in riddles thus," Messala said, in his winsome way. "By all the decent gods, I would not strain thy courtesy to the point of breaking, but now help thou me. See!"—he put his hand on the dice-box again, laughing—"See how close I hold the Pythias and their secret! Thou didst speak, I
