a new thing to Rome?" he asked, stretching out his
arm, as if he were making a speech after dinner, and giving a toast.

"The Goths give trouble, and take a bribe," retorted Aristo; "this is what
trouble means in their case: it's a troublesome fellow who hammers at our
door till we pay his reckoning. It is troublesome to raise the means to
buy them off. And the example of these troublesome savages is catching; it
was lately rumoured that the Carpians had been asking the same terms for
keeping quiet."

"It would ill become the majesty of Rome to soil her fingers with the
blood of such vermin," said Cornelius; "she ignores them."

"And therefore she most majestically bleeds us instead," answered Aristo,
"that she may have treasure to give them. We are not so troublesome as
they; the more's the pity. No offence to you, however, or to the emperor,
or to great Rome, Cornelius. We are over our cups; it's only a game of
politics, you know, like chess or the _cottabus_. Maro bids you 'parcere
subjectis, et debellare superbos;' but you have changed your manners. You
coax the Goths and bully the poor African."

"Africa can show fight, too," interposed Jucundus, who had been calmly
listening and enjoying his own wine; "witness Thysdrus. That was giving
every rapacious Quaestor a lesson that he may go too far, and find a dagger
when he demands a purse."

He was alluding to the revolt of Africa, which led to the downfall of the
tyrant Maximin and the exaltation of the Gordians, when the native
landlords armed their peasantry, killed the imperial officer, and raised
the standard of rebellion in the neighbouring town from impatience of
exactions under which they suffered.

"No offence, I say, Cornelius, no offence to eternal Rome," said Aristo,
"but you have explained to us why you weigh so heavy on us. I've always
heard it was a fortune at Rome for a man to have found out a new tax.
Vespasian did his best; but now you tax our smoke, and our very shadow;
and Pescennius threatened to tax the air we breathe. We'll play at
riddles, and you shall solve the following:--Say who is she that eats her
own limbs, and grows eternal upon them? Ah, the Goths will take the
measure of her eternity!"

"The Goths!" said Jucundus, who was warming into conversational life, "the
Goths! no fear of the Goths; but," and he nodded significantly, "look at
home; we have more to fear indoors than abroad."

"He means the praetorians," said Cornelius to A