Glaucus and Clodius became gradually absorbed in the chances of
the dice.

'By Pollux!' cried Glaucus, 'this is the second time I have thrown the
caniculae' (the lowest throw).

'Now Venus befriend me!' said Clodius, rattling the box for several
moments. 'O Alma Venus--it is Venus herself!' as he threw the highest
cast, named from that goddess--whom he who wins money, indeed, usually
propitiates!

'Venus is ungrateful to me,' said Glaucus, gaily; 'I have always
sacrificed on her altar.'

'He who plays with Clodius,' whispered Lepidus, 'will soon, like
Plautus's Curculio, put his pallium for the stakes.'

'Poor Glaucus!--he is as blind as Fortune herself,' replied Sallust, in
the same tone.

'I will play no more,' said Glaucus; 'I have lost thirty sestertia.'

'I am sorry...' began Clodius.

'Amiable man!' groaned the umbra.

'Not at all!' exclaimed Glaucus; 'the pleasure I take in your gain
compensates the pain of my loss.'

The conversation now grew general and animated; the wine circulated more
freely; and Ione once more became the subject of eulogy to the guests of
Glaucus.

'Instead of outwatching the stars, let us visit one at whose beauty the
stars grow pale,' said Lepidus.

Clodius, who saw no chance of renewing the dice, seconded the proposal;
and Glaucus, though he civilly pressed his guests to continue the
banquet, could not but let them see that his curiosity had been excited
by the praises of Ione: they therefore resolved to adjourn (all, at
least, but Pansa and the umbra) to the house of the fair Greek. They
drank, therefore, to the health of Glaucus and of Titus--they performed
their last libation--they resumed their slippers--they descended the
stairs--passed the illumined atrium--and walking unbitten over the
fierce dog painted on the threshold, found themselves beneath the light
of the moon just risen, in the lively and still crowded streets of
Pompeii.

They passed the jewellers' quarter, sparkling with lights, caught and
reflected by the gems displayed in the shops, and arrived at last at the
door of Ione. The vestibule blazed with rows of lamps; curtains of
embroidered purple hung on either aperture of the tablinum, whose walls
and mosaic pavement glowed with the richest colors of the artist; and
under the portico which surrounded the odorous viridarium they found
Ione, already surrounded by adoring and applauding guests!

'Did you say she was Athenian?' whispered Glaucus, ere he