Phaon staggered a step or two out into the dark, then reeled and fell heavily upon the dirty pavement.  Agias prodded him with his foot, but he was quite insensible.  For the present he was harmless enough.

“My good host,” said Agias, to the disquieted landlord, “I did not ask you to give us an unmixed wine and those dice for no purpose.  This excellent gentleman here seems sadly in need of a bed, where he must stay for some time.  But since I have won every sesterce he owns I must needs pay for his board.  Take good care of him, and here are six philippi which are yours on condition that you keep him quiet until to-morrow at this time, and suffer no one coming from Rome to see him, or send him a message.  To-morrow evening a messenger from Praeneste will come here, and if your guest is still safe in your custody, you shall have six more gold pieces.  At that time, doubtless, you can let him go; but don’t violate my orders, or—­”

“Your excellency pays like a senator,” said the landlord, bowing, as he fingered the gold.  “Trust me that your wishes shall be obeyed.”

“They had better be,” hinted Agias.  “I am not what I seem by my dress.  If you disobey, fear the wrath of a man before whom the world trembles!”

“He must be an agent of Caesar, or Pompeius,” muttered the landlord to himself.  And Agias, having seen two serving-boys tugging Phaon’s prone weight away to a secluded hay-mow, called for his refreshed Numidian, clattered out of the filthy court, and rode away into the night, with the stars burning above him.

Chapter IX

How Gabinius Met with a Rebuff

I

Publius Gabinius, the boon comrade of Lucius Ahenobarbus, differed little from many another man of his age in mode of life, or variety of aspirations.  He had run through all the fashionable excitements of the day; was tired of horse-racing, peacock dinners, Oriental sweethearts; tired even of dice.  And of late he had begun to grow morose, and his friends commenced to think him rather dull company.

But for some days he had found a new object of interest.  With Lucius Ahenobarbus he had been at the Circus Flaminius, waiting for the races to begin, when he startled his friend by a clutch on the arm.

“Look!” was Gabinius’s exclamation.  “Is she not beautiful?”

He pointed to where Fabia, the Vestal, was taking her seat upon a cushion placed for her by a maid, and all the people around were standing, very respectfully, until she was seated The priestess was clothed in perfect white,—­dress, ribbons, fillet—­a notable contrast to the brave show of purple, and scarlet, and blue mantles all about her.

“Beautiful?  Yes,” repeated Lucius, rather carelessly.  “But such birds are not for our net.”

“Are not?” repeated Gabinius, a little sharply.  “What makes you so sure of that?”