"Now then be careful!"
The consumptive old man went on in a whining tone—
"Now tell me plainly, my friends, is it just? The price of bread is going up every day. People dying like flies. And, suddenly, guess what happens? Lately a great ship came from Egypt; everybody's happy, thinking that it brings bread. The word goes round that Cæsar has made the ship come to feed the people. And what do you think it was, my friends? Powder, Alexandrian powder, if you please! a special pink Libyan powder to rub down the wrestlers!—powder for the Emperor's gladiators—powder instead of bread!... Eh?... Now is that justice?"
Agamemnon nudged his companion's elbow.
"Ask his name, quick—ask!"
"Gently, wait a bit...."
A leather dresser remarked—
"Here in Seleucia the town is quiet, but up at Antioch there are nothing but traitors, spies, and informers."
The dyer, licking the mallow-leaf for the last time, growled and mumbled—
"Yes, unless God comes down to help us, soon flesh and blood will be going a deal cheaper than bread and wine!"