“A truce. Solve thine own riddle, I say.”
“Well, my gay Leander, the slaves down-stairs say that we are honored by a call—rather unceremonious, I must admit—from a beautiful young Jewess.”
“Ha! A bird of that feather will stir the pulses.”
“Thou sayest well. The sun warms and the breeze refreshes.”
The Roman smiled, and his dark eyes sparkled from beneath their heavy brows.
“A much-needed addition to our coterie, Marcius. The gods are propitious to-night.”
“Thy discrimination is fine, my genial Greek. Variety is fitting.”
“Fortune commands us to be hospitable.”
“We will obey with alacrity, and make the young Jewess quite at home.”
“Even the elements bespeak a welcome with their noisy commotion.”