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s near a boat, she looks at it and goes away; but the fisherman on whom she has fixed her eye dies." "Not a bad theme," said Petronius. But Vestinius, stretching his neck like a stork, whispered mysteriously,--"I do not believe in the gods; but I believe in spirits--Oi!" Nero paid no attention to their words, and continued,--"I celebrated the Lemuria, and have no wish to see her. This is the fifth year--I had to condemn her, for she sent assassins against me; and, had I not been quicker than she, ye would not be listening to-night to my song." "Thanks be to Caesar, in the name of the city and the world!" cried Domitius Afer. "Wine! and let them strike the tympans!" The uproar began anew. Lucan, all in ivy, wishing to outshout him, rose and cried,--"I am not a man, but a faun; and I dwell in the forest. Eho-o-o-oo!" Caesar drank himself drunk at last; men were drunk, and women were drunk. Vinicius was not less drunk than others; and in addition there was roused in him, besides desire, a wish to quarrel, which happened always when he passed the measure. His dark face became paler, and his tongue stuttered when he spoke, in a voice now loud and commanding,--"Give me thy lips! To-day, to-morrow, it is all one! Enough of this! "Caesar took thee from Aulus to give thee to me, dost understand? To-morrow, about dusk, I will send for thee, dost understand? Caesar promised thee to me before he took thee. Thou must be mine! Give me thy lips! I will not wait for to-morrow,--give thy lips quickly." And he moved to embrace her; but Acte began to defend her, and she defended herself with the remnant of her strength, for she felt that she was perishing. But in vain did she struggle with both hands to remove his hairless arm; in vain, with a voice in which terror and grief were quivering, did she implore him not to be what he was, and to have pity on her. Sated with wine, his breath blew around her nearer and nearer, and his face was there near her face. He was no longer the former kind Vinicius, almost dear to her soul; he was a drunken, wicked satyr, who filled her with repulsion and terror. But her strength deserted her more and more. In vain did she bend and turn away her face to escape his kisses. He rose to his feet, caught her in both arms, and drawing her head to his breast, began, panting, to press her pale lips with his. But at this instant a tremendous power removed his arms from her neck with as much ease
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