‘I would never run the risk. I have the means of lying by till the sky is favourable,’ returned Masthlion, with a calm smile.
‘You are resolved then?’
‘Quite.’
‘A wilful man will have his way,’ growled Cestus, pulling at his beard nervously. He was very ill at ease, and he knew enough of the potter’s nature, to be well aware of the uselessness of any arguments to turn his determination when once arrived at. He felt no confidence in what he had heard concerning the peculiar privileges in Capreae toward the natives of the district, and, in fact, was more than half assured, in his own mind, that his kinsman was running as great a risk, as if he were going empty-handed to a lion in its den. What if he never came back—if he was never heard of again? It would be to lose the most important witness in his case. That would be a terrible misfortune. The Suburan’s heart was a load within him for heaviness. Perplexity worried him very soon into a temper, and he stood with brows clenched, and teeth grinding under his bearded lips, whilst Masthlion proceeded calmly with the preparations for his expedition.
It seemed to increase Cestus’s irritation to watch his tranquillity.
‘You seem to be tolerably easy, in your own mind, I must confess,’ he snarled at length.
Masthlion looked round, and noted the ill-humoured expression of his companion’s countenance with some surprise.
‘Easy in my own mind,’ said he; ‘I am, truly enough—I feel more contented and happy than I have done for many a day; and I have good reason too, I think.’
‘Be sure it is not an evil omen,’ said Cestus.
‘Of what?’