Octavia was frowning; Aurelius had turned crimson and nodded to his Gothic slave, who was standing aside under the arcade. Magus quietly came up to Herodianus and whispered a few words in his ear.
“That shows a profound, a remarkably profound power of observation!” cried the freedman excitedly. “In fact, what does music prove after all? I play the water-organ,[88] and--hold me up, Magus. This floor is remarkably slippery for a respectable cavaedium. It might be paved with eels or polished mirrors!”
“You are a very good fellow,” muttered the Goth as he led him slowly away, “but you carry it a little too far....”
“What? Ah! you have no sense of the sublime? You are not a philosopher, but only a--a--a--a man. But, by Pluto! you need not break my arm. I--take care of that, that.... Will you let go, you misbegotten villain!”
But the Goth was not to be got rid of; he held the drunken man like an iron vice and so guided him in a tolerably straight course. When they disappeared in the corridor leading to the atrium, Aurelius was anxious to apologize for him, but Octavia laughed it off.
“We are at Baiae,”[89] she said, “and Baiae is famous for its worship of Bacchus.”
“It is impossible to be vexed with him,” added Lucilia; “he is so exceedingly funny, and has such a confiding twinkle in his eyes.”
“I am only annoyed,” said Aurelius, “that he should have disturbed us at so delicious a moment. Indeed madam, your voice is enchantment; and what a heavenly melody! who is the musician who composed it?”
“You make me blush,” said Claudia: “I myself put the words to music, and I am delighted that you should like it. Quintus thought it detestable.”
“Yes indeed!” said the saucy Lucilia. “It was too soft and womanly for your taste.”
“You are misrepresenting me; I only said, that the air did not suit the words. It is a man who is here complaining of the torments of love, while what Claudia sings does not sound like a Thracian winter storm, but like the lamentations of a love-lorn maiden.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Lucilia. “Love is love, just as air is air! whether you breathe it or I, it is all the same.”
“But with this difference, that rather more of it is needed to fill my lungs than yours. However, for aught I care the song is perfect.”