ing between the merits of the others, he caught
the mirthful glance of Sallust, and, by a sudden inspiration, named the
jovial epicure to the rank of director, or arbiter bibendi.

Sallust received the appointment with becoming humility.

'I shall be a merciful king,' said he, 'to those who drink deep; to a
recusant, Minos himself shall be less inexorable. Beware!'

The slaves handed round basins of perfumed water, by which lavation the
feast commenced: and now the table groaned under the initiatory course.

The conversation, at first desultory and scattered, allowed Ione and
Glaucus to carry on those sweet whispers, which are worth all the
eloquence in the world. Julia watched them with flashing eyes.

'How soon shall her place be mine!' thought she.

But Clodius, who sat in the centre table, so as to observe well the
countenance of Julia, guessed her pique, and resolved to profit by it.
He addressed her across the table in set phrases of gallantry; and as he
was of high birth and of a showy person, the vain Julia was not so much
in love as to be insensible to his attentions.

The slaves, in the interim, were constantly kept upon the alert by the
vigilant Sallust, who chased one cup by another with a celerity which
seemed as if he were resolved upon exhausting those capacious cellars
which the reader may yet see beneath the house of Diomed. The worthy
merchant began to repent his choice, as amphora after amphora was
pierced and emptied. The slaves, all under the age of manhood (the
youngest being about ten years old--it was they who filled the wine--the
eldest, some five years older, mingled it with water), seemed to share
in the zeal of Sallust; and the face of Diomed began to glow as he
watched the provoking complacency with which they seconded the exertions
of the king of the feast.

'Pardon me, O senator!' said Sallust; 'I see you flinch; your purple hem
cannot save you--drink!'

'By the gods,' said the senator, coughing, 'my lungs are already on
fire; you proceed with so miraculous a swiftness, that Phaeton himself
was nothing to you. I am infirm, O pleasant Sallust: you must exonerate
me.'

'Not I, by Vesta! I am an impartial monarch--drink.'

The poor senator, compelled by the laws of the table, was forced to
comply. Alas! every cup was bringing him nearer and nearer to the
Stygian pool.

'Gently! gently! my king,' groaned Diomed; 'we already begin to...'

'Treason!' interrupted Sallust; 'no