But the fair girl shrank back from the proffered salute, and offered her hand instead, saying she was glad to see her uncle.
‘Well—well!’ cried Cestus, with his loud rough laugh, ‘I will dispense with the kiss—I will not press it. I would not rob that young gentleman of even one; and, truth to tell, I have not a kissing look about my figurehead. You are, at the same time, the finest lass I have seen for many a day—I give thee joy, Masthlion, of thy lovely daughter. And this noble gentleman, kinsman, has no doubt come to the same conclusion long ago—you do not make us known—he is no apprentice to thy pottery trade I can see.’
‘A friend, kinsman—and—and Neæra’s betrothed,’ ex[pg 190]plained the potter, with an askant look at the countenance of Cestus.
‘Ho! ho!’ cried that worthy, ‘then ’tis all settled. Give thee joy—you have won a fair jewel, sir—but you give me no name, kinsman.’
Martialis had drawn himself to his full height, and his face was fixed in its haughtiest aspect, on the voluble, unretiring Suburan.
‘My name is Martialis; and if you are indeed the uncle of Neæra I will take your hand,’ he said, stretching out his fingers accordingly.
‘I am proud to do so with such a free-minded noble,’ answered Cestus, suiting the action to the word, ‘for you are of knightly rank, I see, and as much above me as the eagle above a barn-door fowl. Nevertheless I can wish you happiness; fortune, without doubt, you already possess, so there is no need to wish you that.’
‘I thank you!’ said Martialis coldly.
‘And you! I remember you being stouter in body and whiter in face. Whence have you come?’ inquired Masthlion.
‘It is a long story, kinsman, and I will tell you at leisure,’ replied Cestus; ‘enough for the present to tell you I have been at death’s door, and have come to gain back my strength in the pure air of Surrentum. I have come to tarry a season in your house, Masthlion, if you are willing—it shall cost you nothing, save the infliction of my company.’