Page:The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter (1922), vol. 1.djvu/269

CHAPTER THE EIGHTIETH. I thought this was a parting joke till he whipped out his sword, with a murderous hand. “You’ll not have this prize you’re brooding over, all to yourself! Since I’ve been rejected, I’ll have to cut off my share with this sword.” I followed suit, on my side, and, wrapping a mantle around my left arm, I put myself on guard for the duel. The unhappy boy, rendered desperate by our unreasoning fury, hugged each of us tightly by the knee, and in tears he humbly begged that this wretched lodging-house should not witness a Theban duel, and that we would not pollute with mutual bloodshed the sacred rites of a friendship that was, as yet, unstained. “If a crime must be committed,” he wailed, “here is my naked throat, turn your swords this way and press home the points. I ought to be the one to die, I broke the sacred pledge of friendship.” We lowered our points at these entreaties. “I’ll settle this dispute,” Ascyltos spoke up, “let the boy follow whom-