Once we were composed on the sofas the dinner passed off almost
comfortably. For Nemestronia played her part in my behalf fully as well as
did Vedia, who conversed with me easily, her demeanor precisely as if I
had been Salsonius Salinator, a stranger whom she had just met, our talk
mostly about Carthage, salt-works, the lagoons of the edge of the desert,
date palms, local fruits, gazelles and such like topics, Nemestronia
seconding her with questions about temple libraries, the cult of Isis in
Hippo, and such matters. I became almost gay, I was enjoying myself.
The enjoyment, toward the close of the banquet, was marred by Bambilio,
who, inevitably, had told Falco of his capture by brigands on the
Flaminian Highway and, after his tale was told at great length, insisted
on Vedia telling hers.
Worst of all, when she came to her night in her travelling carriage, alone
(as of course all supposed) and surrounded by escaped beasts, hyenas,
leopards, panthers, tigers and lions, Bambilio must needs remark:
"I'll wager you wished that the ghost of your old lover, Hedulio, had come
to your assistance. He could wrestle with leopards; perhaps even his ghost
might be able to control wild beasts."
"Perhaps," Vedia rejoined, unruffled, "maybe he was there to help me and
maybe that was why I never felt really afraid that any beast would burst
into my coach and seize me, though several snuffed at its panels and I
could see them plain in the clear moonlight.
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