celebrated through Pompeii for having the worst paintings in the world;
for he was patriotic, and patronized none but Pompeians. 'You flatter
me; but there is something pretty--AEdepol, yes--in the colors, to say
nothing of the design--and then for the kitchen, my friends--ah! that
was all my fancy.'

'What is the design?' said Glaucus. 'I have not yet seen your kitchen,
though I have often witnessed the excellence of its cheer.'

'A cook, my Athenian--a cook sacrificing the trophies of his skill on
the altar of Vesta, with a beautiful muraena (taken from the life) on a
spit at a distance--there is some invention there!'

At that instant the slaves appeared, bearing a tray covered with the
first preparative initia of the feast. Amidst delicious figs, fresh
herbs strewed with snow, anchovies, and eggs, were ranged small cups of
diluted wine sparingly mixed with honey. As these were placed on the
table, young slaves bore round to each of the five guests (for there
were no more) the silver basin of perfumed water, and napkins edged with
a purple fringe. But the aedile ostentatiously drew forth his own
napkin, which was not, indeed, of so fine a linen, but in which the
fringe was twice as broad, and wiped his hands with the parade of a man
who felt he was calling for admiration.

'A splendid nappa that of yours,' said Clodius; 'why, the fringe is as
broad as a girdle!'

'A trifle, my Clodius: a trifle! They tell me this stripe is the latest
fashion at Rome; but Glaucus attends to these things more than I.'

'Be propitious, O Bacchus!' said Glaucus, inclining reverentially to a
beautiful image of the god placed in the centre of the table, at the
corners of which stood the Lares and the salt-holders. The guests
followed the prayer, and then, sprinkling the wine on the table, they
performed the wonted libation.

This over, the convivialists reclined themselves on the couches, and the
business of the hour commenced.

'May this cup be my last!' said the young Sallust, as the table, cleared
of its first stimulants, was now loaded with the substantial part of the
entertainment, and the ministering slave poured forth to him a brimming
cyathus--'May this cup be my last, but it is the best wine I have drunk
at Pompeii!'

'Bring hither the amphora,' said Glaucus, 'and read its date and its
character.'

The slave hastened to inform the party that the scroll fastened to the
cork betokened its birth from Chios, and i