Manlius held his breath as he listened to the parasite's words.
"Who was this woman?" he asked in a hollow tone.
"Don't you know her lectica, Manlius? Ah, you are still a novice in Rome if you do not, and doubtless come from very distant lands where such things are not mentioned, gelidis Scythiæ ab oris. This is the vehiculum of the unaccountable and indescribable Glyceria, and the woman who outwitted me was no other than the Circe who has turned goddess, is worshipped by every one, including myself and Carinus, and who thus maltreats every one and changes her adorers, including myself and Carinus, into calves and oxen."
Manlius did not hear the poet's last words. When the name "Glyceria" reached him, he struck his heels into his horse's flanks, and as though he felt the scourge of the Furies upon him, dashed wildly into the courtyard of the Villa Mesembrius.
The old man, without noticing the expression of rage, terror, and despair that darkened the knight's face, met him with a smile.
"Is your daughter at home?" asked Manlius, trembling in every limb, and as the old man did not answer at once, he repeated anxiously: "Where is your daughter, Mesembrius?"
The aged Senator drew the youth, who was impatiently awaiting his reply, aside, and whispered:
"I will tell you the secret, but act as though you did not know it. She is in the habit of attending the meetings of the Christians. She has gone to one now, and has not yet returned."
Manlius, trembling, raised both clenched hands heavenward, and shrieked:
"Cursed be the heaven which permitted this to happen!"