“Good morning, all hail!” he cried, when the young woman was within a few steps of him. Euterpe gave a little cry.
“It is you, my lord!” she said with a faint smile. “Returning so late from Cumae?”
“No, my good Euterpe. I am up not late, but early. But what in the world have you been doing at this hour in Domitia’s palace? Has she been giving a feast? You do not look as if you had gathered a harvest of gold or flowers.”
“Indeed, my lord, no!” replied Euterpe, again melting into tears. “I have been to visit a friend, who is suffering terribly. Down in Baiae, where I was playing at night in the house of the wealthy Timotheus, Agathon the seer gave me herbs and salves—they cost me a heavy sum—and since then I have been in there.... Oh! his wounds are horrible.... But what am I talking about! He is only a slave, my lord; what can Quintus Claudius care...?”
“Do you think so?” said Quintus, interrupting the agitated speaker. “But I am not made of stone; I know full well, that though among slaves there is many a scamp, there are also worthy and excellent men. And if, to crown all, he is the friend[120] of so charming a creature....”
“Nay, my lord, you will have your jest—but if you could only see him, poor Eurymachus! If you could know how faithful he is, and how noble!”
“Well, I call that being desperately in love!”
Euterpe colored. “No,” she said modestly. “I can accuse myself of many sins, but Eurymachus—no evil thought ever entered his mind.”
“Is love a sin then?”
“I am married.”