"How can he?" said Piso. "How can he, after d—d—death, devour him alive? Besides, Thrasyllus declared that I was right."
"Why," shouted Flaccus, "if we had not been drinking together all the morning, I should think you had lost your senses."
"Not by any means," said Piso; "and I will prove to you by logic that Claudius the slave," (again at this name our hero and poor little Benigna looked at each other—she starting and turning half-round, he merely directing a glance at her,) "that Claudius the slave will not and cannot be devoured by Sejanus—I mean that beast Sejanus."
Paulus, chancing to look toward the two prætorian sentries, whose general he supposed to be mentioned, observed them covertly smiling. More puzzled than ever, he gave all his attention to the tipsy dispute which was raging in the palace doorway.
"Well, prove it then," roared Flaccus, "with your logic!"
"Have I not a thumb?" resumed Lucius Piso; "and can I not turn it down in the nick of time, and so save the wretch?"
"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed out the other; "and what notice will a horse take of your thumb? Is this horse such an ass as to mind whether your thumb be up or down, though you are governor of Rome?"
"Perhaps you think," retorted Piso, in a tone of concentrated bitterness, "with your rules of logic, that the horse is not properly trained to his manners?"
"Have I not told you," said Flaccus, "in spite of your rules of thumb, that the horse is not an ass?"
The rudeness and coarseness of Pomponius Flaccus had succeeded in sobering Lucius Piso. He here remained a moment silent, drew himself up with dignity to the full height of his portly person, and at last said,