“Charge double for what remain unfractured,” joked an onlooker.
“Come, master,” said Pedo, plucking Baudillas by the sleeve. “If that angry fellow recognize you, you are lost. Hold my cloak and turn down the lane, then we are at the posticum, at the back of the house. I know some of the family, and they will admit us.”
Near by was a shop for flowers. Over the shop front was the inscription, “Non vendo nisi amantibus coronas” (“I sell garlands to lovers only”).[10] The woman in charge of the bunches and crowns of spring flowers looked questioningly at Baudillas. Her wares were such as invited only when the sun shone. The poor flowers had a draggled and desponding appearance. No lovers came to buy in the bitter mistral.
“Come, master, we shall be recognized,” said Pedo.
In another moment they had passed out of the huffle of the wind and the drift of the rain into the shelter and warmth of a dwelling.
Pedo bade a slave go to Marcianus and tell the deacon that someone below desired a word with him. Almost immediately the man returned with orders to conduct the visitor to the presence of the master.
Baudillas was led along a narrow passage into a chamber in the inner part of the house, away from the apartments for the reception of guests.
The room was warmed. It was small, and had a glazed window; that is to say, the opening was closed [pg 225]by a sheet of stalagmite from one of the caves of Larsacus, cut thin.
In this chamber, seated on an easy couch, with a roll in his hand, which he was studying, was Marcianus. His countenance was hard and haughty.
“You!” he exclaimed, starting with surprise. “What brings you here? I heard that you had been before the magistrate and had confessed. But, bah! of such as you martyrs are not made. You have betrayed us and got off clear yourself.”