Next morning, as Jucundus was dusting and polishing his statues and other articles of taste and devotion, supplying the gaps in their ranks, and grouping a number of new ones which had come in from his workmen, Juba strutted into the shop, and indulged himself from time to time in an inward laugh or snigger at the various specimens of idolatry which grinned or frowned or frisked or languished on all sides of him.
“Don’t sneer at that Anubis,” said his uncle; “it is the work of the divine Callista.”
“That, I suppose, is why she brings into existence so many demons,” answered Juba; “nothing more can be done in the divine line; like the queen who fell in love with a baboon.”
“Now I come to think,” retorted Jucundus, “that god of hers is something like you. She must be in love with you, Juba.”
The youth, as was usual with him, tossed his head with an air of lofty displeasure; at length he said, “And why should she not fall in love with me, pray?”
“Why, because you are too good or too bad to need her plastic hand. She could not make anything out of you. ‘Non ex quovis ligno.’ But she’d be doing a good work if she wiled back your brother.”
“He does not want wiling any more than I,” said Juba, “I dare say! he’s no Christian.”
“What’s that?” said his uncle, looking round at him in surprise; “Agellius no Christian?”
“Not a bit of it,” answered Juba; “rest assured. I taxed him with it only last night; let him alone, he’ll come round. He’s too proud to change, that’s all. Preach to him, entreat him, worry him, try to turn him, work at the bit, whip him, and he will turn restive, start aside, or run away; but let him have his head, pretend not to look, seem indifferent to the whole matter, and he will quietly sit down in the midst of your images there. Callista has an easy task; she’ll bribe him to do what he would else do for nothing.”
“The very best news I have heard since your silly old father died,” cried Jucundus; “the very best—if true. Juba, I’ll give you an handsome present the first sow your brother sacrifices to Ceres. Ha, ha, what fine fun to see the young farmer over his cups at the Nundinæ! Ha, ha, no Christian! bravo, Juba! ha, ha, I’ll make you a present, I say, an Apollo to teach you manners, or a Mercury to give you wit.”