‘Ah, Fulvius, the immortal!’ said the umbra.

’And Spuraena; and Caius Mutius, who wrote three epics in a year—­could Horace do that, or Virgil either said Lepidus.  ’Those old poets all fell into the mistake of copying sculpture instead of painting.  Simplicity and repose—­that was their notion; but we moderns have fire, and passion, and energy—­we never sleep, we imitate the colors of painting, its life, and its action.  Immortal Fulvius!’

‘By the way,’ said Sallust, ’have you seen the new ode by Spuraena, in honour of our Egyptian Isis?  It is magnificent—­the true religious fervor.’

‘Isis seems a favorite divinity at Pompeii,’ said Glaucus.

‘Yes!’ said Pansa, ’she is exceedingly in repute just at this moment; her statue has been uttering the most remarkable oracles.  I am not superstitious, but I must confess that she has more than once assisted me materially in my magistracy with her advice.  Her priests are so pious, too! none of your gay, none of your proud, ministers of Jupiter and Fortune:  they walk barefoot, eat no meat, and pass the greater part of the night in solitary devotion!’

’An example to our other priesthoods, indeed!—­Jupiter’s temple wants reforming sadly,’ said Lepidus, who was a great reformer for all but himself.

’They say that Arbaces the Egyptian has imparted some most solemn mysteries to the priests of Isis,’ observed Sallust.  ’He boasts his descent from the race of Rameses, and declares that in his family the secrets of remotest antiquity are treasured.’

‘He certainly possesses the gift of the evil eye,’ said Clodius.  ’If I ever come upon that Medusa front without the previous charm, I am sure to lose a favorite horse, or throw the canes nine times running.’

‘The last would be indeed a miracle!’ said Sallust, gravely.

‘How mean you, Sallust?’ returned the gamester, with a flushed brow.

’I mean, what you would leave me if I played often with you; and that is—­nothing.’

Clodius answered only by a smile of disdain.

‘If Arbaces were not so rich,’ said Pansa, with a stately air, ’I should stretch my authority a little, and inquire into the truth of the report which calls him an astrologer and a sorcerer.  Agrippa, when aedile of Rome, banished all such terrible citizens.  But a rich man—­it is the duty of an aedile to protect the rich!’

’What think you of this new sect, which I am told has even a few proselytes in Pompeii, these followers of the Hebrew God—­Christus?’

‘Oh, mere speculative visionaries,’ said Clodius; ’they have not a single gentleman amongst them; their proselytes are poor, insignificant, ignorant people!’

‘Who ought, however, to be crucified for their blasphemy,’ said Pansa, with vehemence; ’they deny Venus and Jove!  Nazarene is but another name for atheist.  Let me catch them—­that’s all.’

The second course was gone—­the feasters fell back on their couches—­there was a pause while they listened to the soft voices of the South, and the music of the Arcadian reed.  Glaucus was the most rapt and the least inclined to break the silence, but Clodius began already to think that they wasted time.