oining forces with him to be revenged upon me.
Now you must know that I had formerly held a very high place in this
waiting-maid's esteem, while I was prosecuting my intrigue with her
mistress, and for that reason she took it very hard when she surprised me
with Tryphaena, and sobbed very bitterly. I pressed her earnestly to tell
me the reason for her sobs) {and after pretending to be reluctant she
broke out:} "You will think no more of her than of a common prostitute if
you have a drop of decent blood in your veins! You will not resort to
that female catamite, if you are a man!" {This disturbed my mind but}
what exercised me most was the fear that Eumolpus would find out what
was going on and, being a very sarcastic individual, might revenge my
supposed injury in some poetic lampoon, (in which event his ardent zeal
would without doubt expose me to ridicule, and I greatly dreaded that.
But while I was debating with myself as to the best means of preventing
him from getting at the facts, who should suddenly come in but the man
himself; and he was not uninformed as to what had taken place, for
Tryphaena had related all the particulars to Giton and had tried to
indemnify herself for my repulse, at the expense of my little friend.
Eumolpus was furiously angry because of all this, and all the more so as
lascivious advances were in open violation of the treaty which had been
signed. The minute the old fellow laid eyes upon me, he began bewailing
my lot and ordered me to tell him exactly what had happened. As he was
already well informed, I told him frankly of Lycas' lecherous attempt and
of Tryphaena's wanton assault. When he had heard all the facts,)
Eumolpus swore roundly (that he would certainly avenge us, as the Gods
were just and would not suffer so many villainies to go unpunished.)

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH.

We were still discussing this and other matters when the sea grew rough,
and clouds, gathering from every quarter, obscured with darkness the
light of day. The panic-stricken sailors ran to their stations and took
in sail before the squall was upon them, but the gale did not drive the
waves in any one direction and the helmsman lost his bearings and did not
know what course to steer. At one moment the wind would set towards
Sicily, but the next, the North Wind, prevailing on the Italian coast,
would drive the unlucky vessel hither and yon; and, what was more
dangerous than all the rain-squ