‘Alas, I would I were there!’ sighed Afer; ‘the heaviness of this listless isle is insupportable. The mountains, the rocks, and the sea—the sea, the rocks, and the mountains; there is nothing else. The senses rust, the brain is numb, and one walks as if steeped to the lips in a heavy dream or phantasmagoria. Would I were standing in my porch on the Esquiline!’
‘What, exchange this pure air, this fair isle, its peace and repose, for the smells, and smoke, and roars of that seething cauldron Rome! Tush, you have twice as much colour in your cheeks, and twice as much sparkle in your eye, as when we left it. You are hard to please. Turn philosopher or poet—anything to pass the time. You never hear me repine.’
‘Ah no, but I am not in the lucky position in which you are, Prefect; I have no betrothed bride to bid time fly like the wind,’ answered Afer sarcastically.
‘Go and get you one, then,’ said the smiling Prefect.
‘And in what eagle’s nest nigh the clouds, or in what secret den below ground should I keep her in this sea prison, that I might have her and call her still my own?’
‘Get an ill-favoured one and live in peace.’
‘I would rather take beauty and run all risks, if I could land beauty, on some dark night, and find a snug corner to bestow it safely and unseen,’ observed the knight carelessly.
Knowing his man, he did not expect his speech to have any effect, and he was, therefore, surprised to see a sudden light flash into his patron’s face.
‘By Hercules!’ exclaimed the Prefect sharply, as he struck his forehead at the same time with his hand, ‘was ever an idle speech such an apt reminder!’
He fumbled in the breast of his tunic.