"As you say," gleefully chuckled Phaon, tossing the gold on the table. "Yes, more wine, I say too. One always enjoys play when his temples are all athrob."
Agias quietly reached over, took up his opponent's dice box, and rattled it, and appeared inspecting and fingering the tali.[105] "You have won your throws fairly," he said, handing it back. "Now let us invoke the decision of Fortune once more. A libation to the Genius of Good Luck!" And instead of spilling out a few drops only, he canted the flagon too far and spattered the wine on to the floor.
"Heracles!" growled Phaon, "what a poor hazard! I have thrown four 'ones'!"
"And I have all 'fours' and 'sixes,'" cried Agias, in delight, sweeping the money toward him.
"The gods blast my luck," muttered the freedman, "I shall be ruined at this rate." And he poured down more liquor. "I have hardly five philippi left."
"Come," shouted Agias, jumping up; "I make a fair offer. Your five philippi against all my winnings."
Phaon had a dim consciousness that he was getting very drunk, that he ought to start at once for Præneste, and that it was absolutely needful for him to have some money for bribes and gratuities if he was not to jeopardize seriously the success of his undertaking. But Agias stood before him exultant and provoking. The freedman could not be induced to confess to himself that he had been badly fleeced by a fellow he expected to plunder. In drunken desperation he pulled out his last gold and threw it on the table.
"Play for that, and all the Furies curse me if I lose," he stormed.
Agias cast two "threes," two "fours."
"I must better that," thundered the freedman, slapping the tali out on to the table.