And he began to move
on again by the Nova Via towards the House of the Vestals. Having made
up his mind to sacrifice his money, however, he lost no time before
trying to get an equivalent for it. 'How do you stand with Maecenas?' he
asked suddenly, fixing his small eyes on Horace's weary profile, and
without waiting for an answer he ran on to praise the great man. 'He is
keen and sensible,' he continued, 'and has not many intimate friends. No
one knows how to take advantage of luck as he does. You would find me a
valuable ally, if you would introduce me. I believe you might drive
everybody else out of the field--with my help, of course.' 'You are
quite mistaken there!' answered Horace, rather indignantly. 'He is not
at all that kind of man! There is not a house in Rome where any sort of
intrigue would be more utterly useless!' 'Really, I can hardly believe
it!' 'It is a fact, nevertheless,' retorted Horace, stoutly. 'Well,'
said the Bore, 'if it is, I am of course all the more anxious to know
such a man!' Horace smiled quietly. 'You have only to wish it, my dear
Sir,' he answered, with the faintest modulation of polite irony in his
tone. 'With such gifts at your command, you will certainly charm him.
Why, the very reason of his keeping most people at arm's length is that
he knows how easily he yields!' 'In that case, I will show you what I
can do,' replied the Bore, delighted. 'I shall bribe the slaves; I will
not give it up, if I am not received at first! I will bide my time and
catch him in the street, and follow him about. One gets nothing in life
without taking trouble!' As the man was chattering on, Horace's quick
eyes caught sight of an old friend at last, coming towards him from the
corner of the Triumphal Road, for they had already almost passed the
Palatine. Aristius, sauntering along and enjoying the morning air, with
a couple of slaves at his heels, saw Horace's trouble in a moment, for
he knew the Bore well enough, and realized at once that if he delivered
his friend, he himself would be the next victim. He was far too clever
for that, and with a cold-blooded smile pretended not to understand
Horace's signals of distress. 'I forget what it was you wished to speak
about with me so particularly, my dear Aristius,' said the poet, in
despair. 'It was something very important, was it not?' 'Yes,' answered
the other, with another grin, 'I remember very well; but this is an
unlucky day, and I shall choose another tim