While the architect first rapidly glanced through the letter and then read it carefully, the singer had collected a variety of good morsels for his wife's favorites on a plate, and finally carried the last remaining pasty, with the dish on which it reposed, to the vicinity of his own hooked nose.
"For men or for dogs?" he asked his son, as he pointed to it with a rigid finger.
"For the gods!" replied Pollux. "Take it to mother; she will like to eat ambrosia for once."
"A jolly evening to you!" cried the singer, bowing to the artists who were emptying their cups, and he quitted the hall with his pasty and his dogs. Before he had fairly left the hall with his long strides, Papias, whose speech had been interrupted, once more raised his wine-cup and began again:
"Our Deucalion, our more than Deucalion—"
"Pardon me," interrupted Pontius. "If I once more stop your discourse which began so promisingly; this letter contains important news and our revels must be over for the night. We must postpone our symposium and your drinking-speech."
"It was not a drinking-speech, for if ever there was a moderate man—"
Papias began. But Pontius stopped him again, saying:
"Titianus writes me word that he proposes coming to Lochias this evening.
He may arrive at any moment; and not alone, but with my fellow-artist,
Claudius Venator from Rome, who is to assist me with his advice."
"I never even heard his name," said Papias, who was wont to trouble himself as little about the persons as about the works of other artists.
"I wonder at that," said Pontius, closing the double tablets which announced the Emperor's advent.