Padway had been hoping for an invitation to Anicius' house. But now that Anicius knew him to be a mere vulgar manufacturer, no invitation would be forthcoming. Padway looked at his watch; it was nearly lunch time. He went out and awoke Fritharik.
The Vandal yawned. "Find all the books you wanted, Martinus? I was just dreaming of my beautiful estate—"
"To hell with—" barked Padway, then shut his mouth.
"What?" said Fritharik. "Can't I even dream about the time I was rich and respected? That's not very—"
"Nothing, nothing. I didn't mean you."
"I'm glad of that. My one consolation nowadays is my memories. But what are you so angry at, Martinus? You look as if you could bite nails in two." When there was no answer, he went on: "It must have been something in those books. I'm glad I never learned to read. You get all worked up over things that happened long ago. I'd rather dream about my beaut— oop! I'm sorry, boss; I won't mention it again."
Padway and Thomasus the Syrian sat, along with several hundred naked Romans, in the steam room of the Baths of Diocletian. The banker looked around and leered: "I hear that in the old days they let the women into these baths, too. Right mixed in with the men. Of course that was in pagan times; there's nothing like that now."
"Christian morality, no doubt," said Padway dryly.
"Yes," chuckled Thomasus. "We moderns are such a moral people. You know what the Empress Theodora used to complain about?"
"Yes," said Padway, and told Thomasus what the empress used to complain about.