es, she rushed into the house, swearing
that a gang of footpads was prowling about the neighborhood and the
people invoked the help of "All honest men," in vain, for the members of
the night-watch were either asleep or intent upon some carouse, as they
were nowhere to be found. Greatly terrified at this, the soldier rushed
headlong from Quartilla's house. His companions followed after him,
freeing Pannychis from impending danger and relieving the rest of us from
our fear.] (I was so weary of Quartilla's lechery that I began to
meditate means of escape. I made my intentions known to Ascyltos, who,
as he wished to rid himself of the importunities of Psyche, was
delighted; had not Giton been shut up in the bridal-chamber, the plan
would have presented no difficulties, but we wished to take him with us,
and out of the way of the viciousness of these prostitutes. We were
anxiously engaged in debating this very point, when Pannychis fell out of
bed, and dragged Giton after her, by her own weight. He was not hurt,
but the girl gave her head a slight bump, and raised such a clamor that
Quartilla, in a terrible fright, rushed headlong into the room, giving us
the opportunity of making off. We did not tarry, but flew back to our
inn where,) throwing ourselves upon the bed, we passed the remainder of
the night without fear. (Sallying forth next day, we came upon two of
our kidnappers, one of whom Ascyltos savagely attacked the moment he set
eyes upon him, and, after having thrashed and seriously wounded him,
he ran to my aid against the other. He defended himself so stoutly,
however, that he wounded us both, slightly, and escaped unscathed.) The
third day had now dawned, the date set for the free dinner (at
Trimalchio's,) but battered as we were, flight seemed more to our taste
than quiet, so (we hastened to our inn and, as our wounds turned out to
be trifling, we dressed them with vinegar and oil, and went to bed. The
ruffian whom we had done for, was still lying upon the ground and we
feared detection.) Affairs were at this pass, and we were framing
melancholy excuses with which to evade the coming revel, when a slave of
Agamemnon's burst in upon our trembling conclave and said, "Don't you
know with whom your engagement is today? The exquisite Trimalchio, who
keeps a clock and a liveried bugler in his dining-room, so that he can
tell, instantly, how much of his life has run out!" Forgetting all our
troubles at that,