revel, in the most approved form.

But he was not allowed to get to the end of this evidence of his skill,
for Euphorion the door-keeper of the palace, Euphorion the father of
Pollux, ran hastily into the hall of the Muses with a letter in his hand
which he gave to the architect.

"To be read without an instant's delay," he added, bowing with theatrical
dignity to the assembled artists. "One of the prefect's lictors brought
this letter, which, if my wishes be granted, brings nothing that is
unwelcome. Hold your noise you little blackguards or I will be the death
of you."

These words, which so far as the tone was concerned, formed a somewhat
inharmonious termination to a speech intended for the ears of great
artists, were addressed to his wife's four-footed Graces who had followed
him against his wish, and were leaping round the table barking for the
slender remains of the consumed food.

Pontius was fond of animals and had made friends with the old woman's
pets, so, as he opened the prefect's letter, he said:

"I invite the three little guests to the remains of our feast. Give them
anything that is fit for them, Euphorion, and whatever seems to you most
suitable to your own stomach you may put into it."

While the architect first rapidly glanced through the letter and then
read it carefully, the singer had collected a variety of good morsels for
his wife's favorites on a plate, and finally carried the last remaining
pasty, with the dish on which it reposed, to the vicinity of his own