He strolled in the shade of the pomegranates and pines by the lake of Benakus on the blessed peninsula of Sirmio and the sparkling rhythmic waves of the Roman poet washed into nothingness all thoughts of the present and of that Lesbia who at that moment was singing sharply and shrilly in the church. He failed to hear the sound of the doorbell, did not catch the timidly soft tread that mounted the stairs; he was not roused till something scratched and tapped gently at his door. Quickly the Latin rogue Catullus hid himself under a heap of more serious scholarly equipment, and with dignity the professor and doctor of philosophy called:
"Come in!"
No one accepted the invitation and it was repeated more loudly, but this time too without success. Bewildered, the scholar rose from his chair, drew his long dressing-gown tight about him, and now with still greater amazement admitted a tiny laddie of about eleven years into his study, a laddie who trembled in every joint and over whose cheeks the tears ran down. No one was present at the interview that this visitor had with Professor Fackler and we cannot give the details of the conversation. Only this we can say, that when Lesbia returned from church with her two daughters, the charming pledges of the "thousands and thousands of kisses," she found her husband in a very pleased mood. He did not give her the attention which she expected from him but continued to straddle up and down the room and to murmur:
"I declare! A plucky little fellow! Puer tenax propositi! He shall have his way! By all the gods of Olympus he shall attain what he desires and may it be of benefit to him!"
"What shall be of benefit? Of benefit to whom, Blasius?" asked Lesbia, laying down her hymn-book.
"Someone shall be taken by the heel and dipped into the Styx, dearest, so that he may be proof against the afflictions of life and emerge victorious from the battle of men."
"This is one of your silly, incomprehensible days, Blasius," cried Mrs. Fackler, with vexation and looked as if she would have liked to give her husband a good shaking. Fortunately, however, at that moment Eugenia and Cornelia came running in and hung on their father's arms with all kinds of childish questions and requests. The latter pointed to their mother and quoted with hollow voice:
"Jove tonante, fulgurante, comitia populi habere nefas,"