Part 16 (2/2)

Some pretext must be found for keeping Drusus on his estate at the time when Dumnorix would march past it, and that task could be confided to Phaon, Lucius's freedman, a sly fox entirely after his patron's own heart.

Cornelia, to whom the dinner-party at Favonius's house began as a dreary enough tragedy, before long discovered that it was by no means more easy to suck undiluted sorrow than unmixed gladness out of life.

It gratified her to imagine the rage and dismay of the young exquisite whose couch was beside her chair,[93] when he should learn how completely he had been duped. Then, too, Lucius Ahen.o.barbus had a voluble flow of polite small talk, and he knew how to display his accomplishments to full advantage. He had a fair share of wit and humour; and when he fancied that Cornelia was not impervious to his advances, he became more agreeable and more ardent. Once or twice Cornelia frightened herself by laughing without conscious forcing. Yet it was an immense relief to her when the banquet was over, and the guests--for Favonius had ordered that none should be given enough wine to be absolutely drunken--called for their sandals and litters and went their ways.

[93] Women sat at Roman banquets, unless the company was of a questionable character.

”And you, O Adorable, Calypso, Circe, Nausicaa, Medea,--what shall I call you?--you will not be angry if I call to see you to-morrow?” said Ahen.o.barbus, smiling as he parted from Cornelia.

”If you come,” was her response, ”I shall not perhaps order the slaves to pitch you out heels over head.”

”Ah! That is a guarded a.s.sent, indeed,” laughed Lucius, ”but farewell, _pulcherrima!_”[94]

[94] Most beautiful.

Cornelia that night lay down and sobbed herself to sleep. Her mother had congratulated her on her brilliant social success at the dinner-party, and had praised her for treating Lucius Ahen.o.barbus as she had.

”You know, my dear,” the worthy woman had concluded, ”that since it has seemed necessary to break off with Drusus, a marriage with Lucius would be at once recommended by your father's will, and in many ways highly desirable.”

II

Only a very few days later Lucius Ahen.o.barbus received a message bidding him come to see his father at the family palace on the Palatine. Lucius had almost cut himself clear from his relations. He had his own bachelor apartments, and Domitius had been glad to have him out of the way. A sort of fiction existed that he was legally under _the patria potestas_,[95] and could only have debts and a.s.sets on his father's responsibility, but as a matter of fact his parent seldom paid him any attention; and only called on him to report at home when there was a public or family festival, or something very important. Consequently he knew that matters serious were on foot, when he read in his father's note a request to visit Domitius's palace as soon as convenient. Lucius was just starting, in his most spotless toga,--after a prolonged season with his hairdresser,--to pay a morning call on Cornelia, and so he was the more vexed and perturbed.

[95] Sons remained under the legal control of a father until the latter's death, unless the tie was dissolved by elaborate ceremonies.

”Curses on Cato,[96] my old uncle,” he muttered, while he waited in the splendid atrium of the house of the Ahen.o.barbi. ”He has been rating my father about my pranks with Gabinius and Laeca, and something unpleasant is in store for me.”

[96] Cato Minor's sister Portia was the wife of Lucius Domitius.

Cato was also connected with the Drusi through Marcus Livius Drusus, the murdered reformer, who was the maternal uncle of Cato and Portia.

Lucius Ahen.o.barbus and Quintus Drusus were thus third cousins.

Domitius presently appeared, and his son soon noticed by the affable yet diplomatic manner of his father, and the gentle warmth of his greeting, that although there was something in the background, it was not necessarily very disagreeable.

”My dear Lucius,” began Domitius, after the first civilities were over, and the father and son had strolled into a handsomely appointed library and taken seats on a deeply upholstered couch, ”I have, I think, been an indulgent parent. But I must tell you, I have heard some very bad stories of late about your manner of life.”

”Oh!” replied Lucius, smiling. ”As your worthy friend Cicero remarked when defending young Caelius, 'those sorts of reproaches are regularly heaped on every one whose person or appearance in youth is at all gentlemanly.'”

”I will thank you if you will not quote Cicero to me,” replied the elder man, a little tartly. ”He will soon be back from Cilicia, and will be prodding and wearying us in the Senate quite enough, with his rhetoric and sophistries. But I must be more precise. I have found out how much you owe Phormio. I thought your dead uncle had left you a moderately large estate for a young man. Where has it gone to? Don't try to conceal it! It's been eaten up and drunk up--spent away for unguents, washed away in your baths, the fish-dealer and the caterer have made way with it, yes, and butchers and cooks, and greengrocers and perfume sellers, and poulterers--not to mention people more scandalous--have made off with it.”

Lucius stretched himself out on the divan, caught at a thick, richly embroidered pillow, tossed it over his head on to the floor, yawned, raised himself again upright, and said drawlingly:--

”Y-e-s, it's as you say. I find I spend every sesterce I have, and all I can borrow. But so long as Phormio is accommodating, I don't trouble myself very much about the debts.”

”Lucius,” said Domitius, sternly, ”you are a graceless spendthrift. Of course you must have the sport which all young blood needs. But your extravagance goes beyond all bounds. I call myself a rich man, but to leave you half my fortune, dividing with your older brother Cnaeus, who is a far steadier and saner man than you, would be to a.s.sure myself that Greek parasites and low women would riot through that part of my estate in a twelvemonth. You must reform, Lucius; you must reform.”

This was getting extremely disagreeable in spite of his expectations, and the young man yawned a second time, then answered:--

”Well, I presume Uncle Cato has told you all kinds of stories; but they aren't at all true. I really never had a great deal of money.”

”Lucius,” went on his father, ”you are grown to manhood. It is time that you steadied in life. I have let you live by yourself too long.

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