ll
this to the music of popular airs; then the boy was compelled to jump
through blazing hoops while grasping a huge wine jar with his teeth.
Trimalchio was the only one who was much impressed by these tricks,
remarking that it was a thankless calling and adding that in all the
world there were just two things which could give him acute pleasure,
rope-dancers and horn blowers; all other entertainments were nothing
but nonsense. "I bought a company of comedians," he went on, "but I
preferred for them to put on Atellane farces, and I ordered my
flute-player to play Latin airs only."

CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FOURTH.

While our noble Gaius was still talking away, the boy slipped and fell,
alighting upon Trimalchio's arm. The whole household cried out, as did
also the guests, not that they bore such a coarse fellow any good will,
as they would gladly have seen his neck broken, but because such an
unlucky ending to the dinner might make it necessary for them to go into
mourning over a total stranger. As for Trimalchio, he groaned heavily
and bent over his arm as though it had been injured: doctors flocked
around him, and Fortunata was among the very first, her hair was
streaming and she held a cup in her hand and screamed out her grief and
unhappiness. As for the boy who had fallen, he was crawling at our feet,
imploring pardon. I was uneasy for fear his prayers would lead up to
some ridiculous theatrical climax, for I had not yet been able to forget
that cook who had forgotten to bowel that hog, and so, for this reason, I
began to scan the whole dining-room very closely, to see if an automaton
would come out through the wall; and all the more so as a slave was
beaten for having bound up his master's bruised arm in white wool instead
of purple. Nor was my suspicion unjustified, for in place of punishment,
Trimalchio ordered that the boy be freed, so that no one could say that
so exalted a personage had been injured by a slave.

CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIFTH.

We applauded his action and engaged in a discussion upon the instability
of human affairs, which many took sides. "A good reason," declared
Trimalchio, "why such an occasion shouldn't slip by without an epigram."
He called for his tablets at once, and after racking his brains for a
little while, he got off the following:

The unexpected will turn up;
Our whole lives Fortune bungles up.
Falernian, boy