“Well done, Ligarius. I hate a Stoic. I wish Marcus Cato had a beard that you might singe it for him. The fool talked his two hours in the Senate, yesterday, without changing a muscle of his face. He looked as savage and as motionless as the mask in which Roscius acted Alecto. I detest everything connected with him.”
“Except his sister, Servilia.”
“True. She is a lovely woman.”
“They say that you have told her so, Caius.”
“So I have.”
“And that she was not angry.”
“What woman is?”
“Aye,—but they say—”
“No matter what they say. Common fame lies like a Greek rhetorician. You might know so much, Ligarius, without reading the philosophers. But come, I will introduce you to little dark-eyed Zoe.”
“I tell you I can speak no Greek.”