"Pull that coverlet straight, quick!" he ordered, "and those cushions, pick them off the ground ... that broken vase, set it aside.... There! try and hide that wine stain with a fresh cloth."
And all the while rapid, eager questions flew from mouth to mouth.
"Wilt tell him at once, O Caius Nepos?"
"Or wilt ply him with wine first?"
"'Twere safer."
"Nay! nay!" said Escanes, whose wrists and ankles were being bathed, "that would take too long. Taurus Antinor hath a strong head, and I, for one, could not keep sober another half-hour."
"Dost know if he is at one with us?" was the query that came from every side.
Hortensius Martius alone had remained silent. He did not call either for water or for ice. It was his hatred that had sobered him, making the lines of his face set and hard, causing the flush to die from his cheeks and leaving them ashy pale.
"Dost know if he is at one with us?" reiterated Augustus Philario impatiently.
He had ordered a slave to hold lumps of ice to his forehead, whilst Philippus Decius—lying next to him—was having perfume rubbed into the back of his neck.