[53] Great men, and candidates for office who wished to “know”
  everybody, kept smart slaves at their elbow to whisper strangers’
  names in their ears.  Sometimes the slaves themselves were at fault.

At this instant a young man of faultless toilet, whom we have already recognized as Lucius Ahenobarbus, pushed into the little knot as a peacemaker.

“Most excellent Calatinus,” said he, half suppressing his laughter at the candidate’s fury, the nomenclator’s anguish, and Drusus’s vexed confusion, “allow me to introduce to you a son of Sextus Drusus, who was an old friend of my father’s.  This is Quintus Drusus, if in a few years I have not forgotten his face; and this, my dear Quintus, is my good friend Lucius Calatinus, who would be glad of your vote and influence to help on his candidacy as tribune.”

The atmosphere was cleared instantly.  Calatinus forgot his anger, in order to apologize in the most obsequious manner for his headlong salutation.  Drusus, pleased to find the man he had been seeking, forgave the vile scent of the garlic, and graciously accepted the explanation.  Then the way was open to ask Calatinus whether he was willing to dispose of Agias.  The crestfallen candidate was only too happy to do something to put himself right with the person he had offended.  Loudly he cursed his wife’s temper, that would have wasted a slave worth a “hundred thousand sesterces” to gratify a mere burst of passion.

“Yes, he was willing to sell the boy to accommodate his excellency, Quintus Drusus,” said Calatinus, “although he was a valuable slave.  Still, in honesty he had to admit that Agias had some mischievous points.  Calatinus had boxed his ears only the day before for licking the pastry.  But, since his wife disliked the fellow, he would be constrained to sell him, if a purchaser would take him.”

The result of the conference was that Drusus, who had inherited that keen eye for business which went with most of his race, purchased Agias for thirty thousand sesterces, considerably less than the boy would have brought in the market.

While Drusus was handing over a money order payable with Flaccus, Lucius Ahenobarbus again came forward, with all seeming friendliness.

“My dear Quintus,” said he, “Marcus Laeca has commissioned me to find a ninth guest to fill his triclinium[54] this evening.  We should be delighted if you would join us.  I don’t know what the good Marcus will offer us to-night, but you can be sure of a slice of peacock[55] and a few other nice bits.”

  [54] Dining room with couch seats for nine, the regular size.

  [55] The ne plus ultra of Roman gastronomy at the time.

“I am very grateful,” replied Drusus, who felt all the while that Lucius Ahenobarbus was the last man in the world with whom he cared to spend an evening’s carousing; “but,” and here he concocted a white lie, “an old friend I met in Athens has already invited me to spend the night, and I cannot well refuse him.  I thank you for your invitation.”