“Up to the present hour no one knows of it. Quintus Claudius seems inclined to keep it a secret. Even the gate-keeper, whom I began to talk to....”
“Are you mad?” interrupted Stephanus. “Do you want to find yourself imprisoned and crucified?”
“Nay, my lord. Antinous does not go to work so clumsily. When I stopped to talk to the gate-keeper, I was in girl’s clothes.”
“It is all the same; the whole thing was aimless.”
“Not altogether, an accident rewarded my daring. Only think, as I was standing there talking over the weather—he took me, as sure as I am alive, for some street hussy—a woman came towards us through the ostium, with an old man with a snow-white beard. As soon as I saw her, I knew her to be that saucy Euterpe, who so often played the flute for us at Baiae; do you not remember? The pretty girl from Cumae, who always looked so shy and stupid, when you praised her shape....”
“Well, and what does she matter to me?”
“Euterpe? nothing whatever; but the old man.—As they came past us, a vague remembrance crossed my mind. I said to myself: I must surely know that man. Then he used some little gesture, and at once I had found the trace. It was none other than Thrax Barbatus, that obstinate fool who wanted, a little while since, to force his way in to see you....”
“Thrax! with Quintus Claudius?” cried the steward horrified. “Ah! I understand now! Claudius and Afranius are plotting together, to restore the old idiot to his rights. The Flamen’s son has long honored me with his hatred. A reason the more, for disarming and disabling him....” Then he suddenly checked himself, pushed his fingers through his hair, and scowled.
“Listen,” he began eagerly. “I have an idea. Was it not Euterpe, who troubled herself so much about Eurymachus, when I had him flogged?”
“To be sure, Euterpe, the pretty Cumaean! He was supposed to be her lover, and while he was laid up she brought him herbs and salves; and she cried....”