"Get thee money."
"I give thee my word, Marsyas. It has been sorely battered dodging debts, yet it is still intact enough to contain mine honor. I give thee my word."
Marsyas lingered with an averted face, which Agrippa tried in vain to understand. He added nothing to emphasize his avowal; perhaps he realized at that moment, more keenly than ever afterward, how much a man wants to be believed.
Presently the young man spoke in another tone.
"Who is this Peter, that I may not ask him for a loan?"
"I owe him a talent already," Agrippa answered with a lazy smile, "which he advanced to me while he was yet my mother's slave."
"Then thou knowest him! How—how is he favored in disposition?"
"How is Peter favored? Are slaves favored? Nay, they are tempered like asses, cattle and apes—like beasts. Wherefore, this Peter is voracious, balky, amiable enough if thou yieldest him provender—not bad, but, like any donkey, could be better."
Marsyas' eyes fell again; it seemed that he hesitated at his next question, as though upon its answer turned a matter of great moment.
"Art thou in all truth assured that this Alexandrian will lend thee money?" he asked presently, beset by the possibility of doubt.