"Snarled, have they? My praetorian guard shall show them what it is to
be bitten! Mobs are no new things in Rome. The old way is the proper
way to deal with mobs! Blood, corn and circuses, but principally blood!
By the Dioscuri, I grow weary of your warnings, Marcia!"

He thrust her away from him and went growling like a bear into his own
apartment, where his voice could be heard cursing the attendants whose
dangerous duty it was to divine in an instant what clothes he would wear
and to help him into them. He came out naked through the door, saw
Marcia talking to Narcissus, laughed and disappeared again. Marcia
raised her voice:

"Telamonion! Oh, Telamonion!"

A curly-headed Greek boy hardly eight years old came running from the
outer corridor--all laughter--one of those spoiled favorites of fortune
whom it was the fashion to keep as pets. Their usefulness consisted
mainly in retention of their innocence.

"Telamonion, go in and play with him. Go in and make him laugh. He is
bad tempered."

Confident of everybody's good-will, the child vanished through the
curtains where Commodus roared him a greeting. Marcia continued talking
to Narcissus in a low voice.

"When did you see Sextus last?" she asked.

"But yesterday."