“And what became of the girl?” asked Paris, who had hitherto listened to the recital with utter indifference.
“She was carried off by the barbarian,” replied Spado. “Poor thing! I believe sorely against her will. Nevertheless, she was borne off by the Briton.”
“A Briton!” exclaimed Licinius, whose intense contempt for Spado had hitherto kept him silent, and who had already heard the truth of the story from his slave.
“A Briton,” repeated the eunuch. “It was impossible he could be otherwise from his size and ferocity. The Gaul, [pg 112]you see, is bigger than the Roman. The German than the Gaul. The Briton, by the same argument, must be bigger than the German; and this hideous giant must consequently have been one of those savage islanders. I take my logic from the Greeks.”
“But not your boxing, it seems,” observed Montanus, “We must have Euchenor to give you some lessons, if you run your head into these street brawls whenever you come across a woman with a veil.”
“Nay,” answered the eunuch, “he took me at a disadvantage; nevertheless he was a large and powerful athlete—there is no denying it.”
“They are the finest men we have in the empire,” said Licinius, thinking in his heart that the women were the fairest too.
“Their oysters are better than ours,” observed Cæsar, with an air of profound and impartial judgment.
“I grant the oysters, but I deny the men,” said Placidus, reflecting that his patriotism would be acceptable to his audience. “The Roman is the natural conqueror of the world. They cannot stand against our countrymen in the arena.” The guests all joined in a cordial assent. Had it not been so, perhaps Licinius would have scarce thought it worth while to continue the argument. Now, though half ashamed of his warmth, he took up the matter with energy.
“There is a Briton in my house at this moment,” said he, “who is a stronger and finer man than you will produce in Rome.”