ver, who
had carved the capons, did not appear, but in his place a great bearded
giant, with bands around his legs, and wearing a short hunting cape in
which a design was woven. Drawing his hunting-knife, he plunged it
fiercely into the boar's side, and some thrushes flew out of the gash.
fowlers, ready with their rods, caught them in a moment, as they
fluttered around the room and Trimalchio ordered one to each guest,
remarking, "Notice what fine acorns this forest-bred boar fed on," and as
he spoke, some slaves removed the little baskets from the tusks and
divided the Syrian and Theban dates equally among the diners.

CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIRST.

Getting a moment to myself, in the meantime, I began to speculate as to
why the boar had come with a liberty cap upon his head. After exhausting
my invention with a thousand foolish guesses, I made bold to put the
riddle which teased me to my old informant. "Why, sure," he replied,
"even your slave could explain that; there's no riddle, everything's as
plain as day! This boar made his first bow as the last course of
yesterday's dinner and was dismissed by the guests, so today he comes
back as a freedman!" I damned my stupidity and refrained from asking any
more questions for fear I might leave the impression that I had never
dined among decent people before. While we were speaking, a handsome
boy, crowned with vine leaves and ivy, passed grapes around, in a little
basket, and impersonated Bacchus-happy, Bacchus-drunk, and
Bacchus-dreaming, reciting, in the meantime, his master's verses, in a
shrill voice. Trimalchio turned to him and said, "Dionisus, be thou
Liber," whereupon the boy immediately snatched the cap from the boar's
head, and put it upon his own. At that Trimalchio added, "You can't
deny that my father's middle name was Liber!" We applauded Trimalchio's
conceit heartily, and kissed the boy as he went around. Trimalchio
retired to the close-stool, after this course, and we, having freedom of
action with the tyrant away, began to draw the other guests out. After
calling for a bowl of wine, Dama spoke up, "A day's nothing at all: it's
night before you can turn around, so you can't do better than to go
right to the dining-room from your bed. It's been so cold that I can
hardly get warm in a bath, but a hot drink's as good as an overcoat:
I've had some long pegs, and between you and me, I'm a bit groggy; the
booze has gone to my head."

CHAPTER