"The first of Caius Marius."
"Forty-four years, a ripe age," said Cethegus, "but twill be better forty years hence. Strange, by the Gods! that of the two best things on earth, women and wine, the nature should so differ. The wine is crude still, when the girl is mellow; but it is ripe, long after she is——"
"Rotten, by Venus!"—interposed Cæparius, swearing the harlot's oath; "Rotten, and in the lap of Lamia!"
"But heard ye not," asked Cataline, "or hearing, did ye not accept the omen!—in whose first Consulship this same Falernian jar was sealed?"
"Marius! By Hercules! an omen! oh, may it turn out well!" exclaimed the superstitious Lentulus.
"Sayest thou, my Sura? well! drink we to the omen, and may we to the valour and the principles of Marius unite the fortunes of his rival—of all-triumphant Sylla!"
A burst of acclamations replied to the happy hit, and seeing now his aim entirely accomplished, Cataline checked the revel; their blood was up; no fear of chilling counsels!
"Now then," he said, "before we drink like boon companions, let us consult like men; there is need now of counsel; that once finished"——
"Fulvia awaits me," interrupted Cassius, "Fulvia, worth fifty revels!"
"And me Sempronia," lisped the younger and more beautiful of the twin Sylla.