Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 20, 2025
He assured me that I had done just right to act as I had and he begged my pardon for his blunders in arranging to have Capito admitted to talk to me, in arranging it without my permission or even knowledge, in neglecting to guard the outer door of the garden and so admitting Bambilio, and in causing the escape of the leopard.
I looked up and was more amazed than when I had caught sight of Capito. Approaching me, but a few paces from me, was one of the most detestable bores in Rome, a man whom I sedulously avoided, Faltonius Bambilio. His father, the Pontifex of Vesta, was an offensively and absurdly unctuous and pompous man.
Her self-possession did not desert her when she recognized in the train of the Pontifex her rejected suitor Calvaster, sly, malignant and with an air of suppressed elation. Faltonius Bambilio, the Pontifex of Vesta, was a pursy, pudgy, pompous old man, immensely self-important, almost ridiculous in his fussiness, but clothed with a certain impressiveness by the mere fact of his religious office.
After she had moved a few steps she sprang into the path and scampered off like a child, her basket swinging, vanishing through a door in the upper wall on my left. "Neat little piece!" Bambilio commented. "Taking, and every part of her pretty. Fine calves, especially." I was by this time in a condition which, had I been old and fat, must have brought on an apoplexy.
Brinnaria felt all her wild self surge up in her. "I'm sound as a two-year-old racing filly," she replied. "I'm clean as fresh curd; I hear you perfectly and you can hear me perfectly." Bambilio bristled like a bantam rooster. "That is not the way for a Vestal to speak," he rebuked. "I'm not a Vestal yet," Brinnaria retorted, "and that was my answer to those questions.
If I feel inclined to confide I'll make my confidences to my genuine spiritual father, not to his understrapper." Bambilio was piqued and spoke sourly. "The Emperor," he said, "will be far from pleased with my report of you." "It will make no difference to me or to him what you report or whether you make any report or not," spoke Brinnaria. "I'm going to have a talk with him myself."
I'll have Utta rub me with salt and turpentine from neck to hips; I'll be asleep before she's done rubbing." "I'll come and see she does it properly," Causidiena said. "Better not," said Brinnaria. "Numisia and Bambilio need you worse than I do." "Why?" queried Causidiena. "After Bambilio was done beating me," Brinnaria explained calmly, "I beat him.
Of course, I had known from childhood the travelling carriages of our senate and nobility. As everybody knows, each, has a certain unmistakable individuality. Our makers of travelling carriages never make two precisely alike, and, what is more, the tastes of different families are so different that patterns are very unlike. I recognized the carriage for that of Faltonius Bambilio.
After she also had ended her story Bambilio eyed me: "Did you ever hear a story excel hers and mine, Salsonius?" he queried. "Never," I admitted, my gaze full on his. The booby showed not a gleam of suspicion! Inwardly I could not but remark that whereas I despised and loathed Bambilio for his pomposity and self-esteem, he made and kept friends.
"There is something else you might do," Flexinna suggested. "You might easily arrange to be ineligible before Bambilio comes for you." "I shall," spoke the matter-of-fact Brinnaria. "The moment Daddy and Almo come, I'll be Alma's wife in less time than it takes to tell it and will be able to snap my fingers at Bambilio." "Suppose he comes before your father," Flexinna suggested.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking