“One thing else,” said Pratinas; “I must have a little money to shut up any complaints that those ridiculous anti-bribery Licinian and Pompeian Laws are being broken.  Then there is my fee.”

“Oh, yes,” replied the other, not to be daunted in his good humour, “I’ll give you fifty thousand in all.  Now I must see this rabble.”

And the mob of clients swept up to the armchair, grasping after the great man’s hand, and raining on him their aves, while some daring mortals tried to thrust in a kiss.

Pratinas drew back and watched the crowd with a smile half cynical, half amused.  Some of the visitors were regular hangers-on, who perhaps expected an invitation to dine; some were seekers of patronage; some had an eye to political preferment, a few were real acquaintances of Calatinus or came on some legitimate business.  Pratinas observed three friends waiting to speak with Calatinus, and was soon in conversation.

The first of the trio was known as Publius Gabinius, who was by far the oldest.  Coarse-featured, with broken complexion, it needed but a glance to proclaim him as gifted with no other distinctions than those of a hard drinker, fast liver, and the owner of an attenuated conscience.  Servius Flaccus, the second, was of a different type.  He was languid; spirited only when he railed at a slave who brushed against his immaculate toga.  The frills on his robes made him almost feminine; and he spoke, even in invective, in a soft, lisping voice.  Around him floated the aroma of countless rare unguents, that made his coming known afar off.  His only aim in life was evidently to get through it with as little exertion of brain or muscle as was possible.  The third friend was unlike the others.  Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus clearly amounted to more than either of his companions.  A constant worship of three very popular gods of the day—­Women, Wine, and Gaming—­with the other excitements of a dissipated life, had ruined a fine fair complexion.  As it was, he had the profile of a handsome, affable man; only the mouth was hard and sensual, and his skin was faded and broken.  He wore a little brown beard carefully trimmed around his well-oiled chin after the manner of Roman men of fashion; and his dark hair was crimped in regular steps or gradations, parting in the middle and arranged on both sides like a girl’s.[34]

  [34] Suet., “Nero,” 51.

“Good morning, Pratinas!” said Lucius, warmly, taking the Greek’s hand.  “How glad we are to find you here.  I wanted to ask you around to Marcus Laeca’s to-night; we think he will give something of a feast, and you must see my latest sweetheart—­Clyte!  She is a little pearl.  I have had her head cut in intaglio on this onyx; is she not pretty?”

“Very pretty,” said Pratinas, looking at the engraving on the ring.  “But perhaps it is not right for me, a grave philosopher, to go to your banquet.”

“How (h)absurd! (H)of c(h)ourse you c(h)an!” lisped Flaccus, who affected Greek so far as to aspirate every word beginning with a vowel, and to change every c into a ch.