“You won’t live to be revenged,” Brinnarius told him, “unless you get out of here quick. I’ll break every bone in your body, for certain, if you address another word to me.”
“Come, son, said Pulfennius, and shambled away.
“And now,” spoke Segontius, “don’t you think, Marcus, that you and I had best forget our quarrels and be friends again? These young folks were plainly meant for each other by all the gods who favor lovers. Let us not stand in the way.”
“Indeed, Lucius,” spoke the big man, holding out his huge hand. “I am of the same mind. But both of them deserve some punishment for their presumption. They should wait four years at least before they marry. My girl is too young.”
“I agree,” said Segontius, “and I’ll send my boy to Falerii for the present. That will keep them apart and ensure propriety of behavior.”
“That is well,” growled Brinnarius, “and I’ll send my girl to her aunt Septima’s.”
Brinnaria sprang up.
“Aunt Septima’s?” she cried. “Spinach and mallows and a tiny roast lark for dinner every day. I’ll starve to death And prim! I’d almost as lief be a Vestal!”