“Very fine—­excellent—­” at last he stammered out, but he was no longer looking at Cleopatra but at Euergetes, who just then cried out loudly: 

“I have thought over that passage for hours, I have given you all my reasons and have let you speak, Aristarchus, but I maintain my opinion, and whoever denies it does Homer an injustice; in this place ‘siu’ must be read instead of ’iu’.”

Euergetes spoke so vehemently that his voice outshouted all the other guests; Publius however snatched at his words, to escape the necessity for feigning sentiments he could not feel; so he said, addressing himself half to the speaker and half to Cleopatra: 

“Of what use can it be to decide whether it is one or the other—­’iu’ or ‘siu’.  I find many things justifiable in other men that are foreign to my own nature, but I never could understand how an energetic and vigorous man, a prudent sovereign and stalwart drinker—­like you, Euergetes—­can sit for hours over flimsy papyrus-rolls, and rack his brains to decide whether this or that in Homer should be read in one way or another.”

“You exercise yourself in other things,” replied Euergetes.  “I consider that part of me which lies within this golden fillet as the best that I have, and I exercise my wits on the minutest and subtlest questions just as I would try the strength of my arms against the sturdiest athletes.  I flung five into the sand the last time I did so, and they quake now when they see me enter the gymnasium of Timagetes.  There would be no strength in the world if there were no obstacles, and no man would know that he was strong if he could meet with no resistance to overcome.  I for my part seek such exercises as suit my idiosyncrasy, and if they are not to your taste I cannot help it.  If you were to set these excellently dressed crayfish before a fine horse he would disdain them, and could not understand how foolish men could find anything palatable that tasted so salt.  Salt, in fact, is not suited to all creatures!  Men born far from the sea do not relish oysters, while I, being a gourmand, even prefer to open them myself so that they may be perfectly fresh, and mix their liquor with my wine.”

“I do not like any very salt dish, and am glad to leave the opening of all marine produce to my servants,” answered Publius.  “Thereby I save both time and unnecessary trouble.”

“Oh!  I know!” cried Euergetes.  “You keep Greek slaves, who must even read and write for you.  Pray is there a market where I may purchase men, who, after a night of carousing, will bear our headache for us?  By the shores of the Tiber you love many things better than learning.”

“And thereby,” added Aristarchus, “deprive yourselves of the noblest and subtlest of pleasures, for the purest enjoyment is ever that which we earn at the cost of some pains and effort.”

“But all that you earn by this kind of labor,” returned Publius, “is petty and unimportant.  It puts me in mind of a man who removes a block of stone in the sweat of his brow only to lay it on a sparrow’s feather in order that it may not be carried away by the wind.”