Altogether
the heavens were very dark; and it was scarcely possible for any one who
knew well his jovial cast of countenance, to keep from laughing, whatever
his real sympathy, at the unusual length and blankness which were suddenly
imposed upon it.

While he sat thus at his shop window, which, as it were, framed him for
the contemplation of passers-by, on the day of the escape of Agellius, and
the day before Callista's public examination, Aristo rushed in upon him in
a state of far more passionate and more reasonable grief. He had called,
indeed, the day before, but he found a pleasure in expending his distress
upon others, and he came again to get rid of its insupportable weight by
discharging it in a torrent of tears and exclamations. However, at first
the words of both "moved slow," as the poet says, and went off in a sort
of dropping fire.

"Well," said Jucundus, in a depressed tone; "he's not come to _you_, of
course?"

"Who?"

"Agellius."

"Oh! Agellius! No, he's not with me." Then, after a pause, Aristo added,
"Why should he be?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought he might be. He's been gone since early
morning."

"Indeed! No, I don't know where he is. How came he with you?"

"I told you yesterday; but you have forgotten. I was sheltering him; but
he's gone for ever."

"Indeed!"

"And his brother's mad!--horribly mad!" and he slapped his hand against his
thigh.

"I always thought it," answered Aristo.

"Did you? Yes, so it is; but it's very different from what it ever was.
The furies have got hold of him with a vengeance! He's frantic! Oh, if you
had seen him! Two boys, both mad! It's all the father!"

"I thought you'd like to hear something about dear, sweet Callista," said
her brother.

"Yes, I should indeed!" answered Jucundus. "By Esculapius! they're all mad
together!"

"Well, it is like madness!" cried Aristo, with great vehemence.

"The world's going mad!" answered Jucundus, who was picking up, since he
began to talk, an exercise which was decidedly good for him. "We are _all_
going mad! _I_ shall get crazed. The townspeople are crazed already. What
an abominable, brutal piece of business was that three days ago! I put up
my shutters. Did it come near you?--all on account of one or two beggarly
Christians, and my poor boy. What harm could two or three, toads and
vipers though they be, do here? They might have been trodden down easily.
It's another thing at Carthage. Catch the ringleaders