light of the lantern
fell upon them--just as a slimy, black newt glides through a pool. I
have good eyes as you know, and I will give one of them at this moment,
if I am mistaken, and if the cat that stole into our tent was not
Eulaeus."

"And why did you not have him caught?" asked Publius, provoked.

"Because our tent was pitch-dark," replied Lysias, "and that stout
villain is as slippery as a badger with the dogs at his heels, Owls,
bats and such vermin which seek their prey by night are all hideous to
me, and this Eulaeus, who grins like a hyaena when he laughs--"

"This Eulaeus," said Publius, interrupting his friend, "shall learn to
know me, and know too by experience that a man comes to no good, who
picks a quarrel with my father's son."

"But, in the first instance, you treated him with disdain and
discourtesy," said Lysias, "and that was not wise."

"Wise, and wise, and wise!" the Roman broke out. "He is a scoundrel. It
makes no difference to me so long as he keeps out of my way; but when,
as has been the case for several days now, he constantly sticks close to
me to spy upon me, and treats me as if he were my equal, I will show
him that he is mistaken. He has no reason to complain of my want of
frankness; he knows my opinion of him, and that I am quite inclined to
give him a thrashing. If I wanted to meet his cunning with cunning I
should get the worst of it, for he is far superior to me in intrigue. I
shall fare better with him by my own unconcealed mode of fighting, which
is new to him and puzzles him; besides it is better suited to my own
nature, and more consonant to me than any other. He is not only sly, but
is keen-witted, and he has at once connected the complaint which I have
threatened to bring against him with the manuscript which Serapion, the
recluse, gave me in his presence. There it lies--only look.

"Now, being not merely crafty, but a daring rascal too--two qualities
which generally contradict each other, for no one who is really prudent
lives in disobedience to the laws--he has secretly untied the strings
which fastened it. But, you see, he had not time enough to tie the
roll up again! He has read it all or in part, and I wish him joy of
the picture of himself he will have found painted there. The anchorite
wields a powerful pen, and paints with a firm outline and strongly
marked coloring. If he has read the roll to the end it will spare me the
trouble of explaining to him what I purpos