“That is a pity,” replied the noble Senator, who, here, in the frigidarium, was not by any means an Apollo. “I had a great many things to talk to you about.”
“Business?”
“Concerning the chamberlain. You know we are in treaty over an estate at Baiae?”
“To be sure.—A most delightful residence. Made on purpose for the raptures of the honeymoon.” And he winked significantly. But the little Senator pursed up his mouth and knit his brows in displeasure, and flourished his elbows so vehemently that the water splashed up all round him.
“Furius, you are becoming a perfect Fury!” cried Clodianus. Then he laughed at his own precious wit and stirred his side of the bath into circling wavelets.
“You seem monstrously happy!” remarked Furius biting his lips.
“Monstrously! And if I only had a sweetheart as handsome and as hugely rich as your divine Claudia....”
“Pooh, nonsense, I have not got so far as that yet. Titus Claudius, at the eleventh hour, begged for time for reflection.”
“You are in treaty for the estate all the same?”
“Certainly—what do you think now? If the affair with Claudius falls through, I shall carry my suit next day to Fannia, who is younger, or to Paula or to old Camilla. My honor is at stake. I have already made every preparation; dramatic and pantomimic performances, sham fights and races. I cannot possibly withdraw; I am compromised on every side.”