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;