fleet held his course on
the billowy deep"; never before had my ears been assailed by a sound so
discordant, for in addition to his barbarous pronunciation, and the
raising and lowering of his voice, he interpolated Atellane verses, and,
for the first time in my life, Virgil grated on my nerves. When he had
to quit, finally, from sheer want of breath, "Did he ever have any
training," Habinnas exclaimed, "no, not he! I educated him by sending
him among the grafters at the fair, so when it comes to taking off a
barker or a mule driver, there's not his equal, and the rogue's clever,
too, he's a shoemaker, or a cook, or a baker a regular jack of all
trades. But he has two faults, and if he didn't have them, he'd be
beyond all price: he snores and he's been circumcised. And that's the
reason he never can keep his mouth shut and always has an eye open. I
paid three hundred dinars for him."

CHAPTER THE SIXTY-NINTH.

"Yes," Scintilla broke in, "and you've not mentioned all of his
accomplishments either; he's a pimp too, and I'm going to see that he's
branded," she snapped. Trimalchio laughed. "There's where the
Cappadocian comes out," he said; "never cheats himself out of anything
and I admire him for it, so help me Hercules, I do. No one can show a
dead man a good time. Don't be jealous, Scintilla; we're next to you
women, too, believe me. As sure as you see me here safe and sound, I
used to play at thrust and parry with Mamma, my mistress, and finally
even my master got suspicious and sent me back to a stewardship; but keep
quiet, tongue, and I'll give you a cake." Taking all this as praise, the
wretched slave pulled a small earthen lamp from a fold in his garment,
and impersonated a trumpeter for half an hour or more, while Habinnas
hummed with him, holding his finger pressed to his lips. Finally, the
slave stepped out into the middle of the floor and waved his pipes in
imitation of a flute-player; then, with a whip and a smock, he enacted
the part of a mule-driver. At last Habinnas called him over and kissed
him and said, as he poured a drink for him, "You get better all the time,
Massa. I'm going to give you a pair of shoes." Had not the dessert been
brought in, we would never have gotten to the end of these stupidities.
Thrushes made of pastry and stuffed with nuts and raisins, quinces with
spines sticking out so that they looked like sea-urchins. All this would
have been endurable enough had it no