“Although I grieve to have been suspected of neglect by you, still it has not been so annoying to me that my failure in duty is complained of by you as pleasant that it has been noticed, especially since, in so far as I am accused, I am free from fault.  But in so far as you intimate that you long for a letter from me, you disclose that which I know well, it is true, but that which is sweet and cherished—­your love, I mean.  In point of fact, I never let any one pass, who I think will go to you, without giving him a letter.  For who is so indefatigable in writing as I am?  From you, on the other hand, twice or thrice at most have I received a letter, and then a very short one.  Therefore, if you are an unjust judge toward me, I shall condemn you on the same charge, but if you shall be unwilling to have me do that, you must show yourself just to me.

“But enough about letters; I have no fear of not satisfying you by writing, especially if in that kind of activity you will not scorn my efforts.  I did grieve that you were away from us so long, inasmuch as I was deprived of the enjoyment of most delightful companionship, but now I rejoice because, in your absence, you have attained all your ends without sacrificing your dignity in the slightest degree, and because in all your undertakings the outcome has corresponded to my desires.  What my boundless affection for you forces me to urge upon you is briefly put.  So great a hope is based, shall I say, on your spirit or on your abilities, that I do not hesitate to beseech and implore you to come back to us with a character so moulded that you may be able to preserve and maintain this confidence in you which you have aroused.  And since forgetfulness shall never blot out my remembrance of your services to me, I beg you to remember that whatever improvements may come in your fortune, or in your station in life, you would not have been able to secure them, if you had not as a boy in the old days followed my most loyal and loving counsels.  Wherefore you ought to have such a feeling toward us, that we, who are now growing heavy with years, may find rest in your love and your youth.”

In a most unexpected place, in one of Cicero’s fiery invectives against Antony,[120] we come upon an episode illustrating his affectionate care of Curio during Curio’s youth.  The elder Curio lies upon a couch, prostrate with grief at the wreck which his son has brought on the house by his dissolute life and his extravagance.  The younger Curio throws himself at Cicero’s feet in tears.  Like a foster-father, Cicero induces the young man to break off his evil habits, and persuades the father to forgive him and pay his debts.  This scene which he describes here, reminds us of Curio’s first appearance in Cicero’s correspondence, where, with Curio’s wild life in mind, he is spoken of as filiola Curionis.[121]