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Updated: May 15, 2025
Your daughter is in Trymalcion's hands, and it is upon her he will wreak his revenge on you. He rejoices over the circumstance in advance. He sometimes is taken with savage caprices, and is rich enough to indulge them." I was unable to make answer to these words, save with long drawn out moans. "And that is not all, infamous scoundrel!
At sight of her Trymalcion's dead eyes lighted up and glistened like glowing coals in the middle of his wrinkled, paint-covered visage. He stood up, stretched out his emaciated arms towards my daughter as if to seize his prey, while a shocking smile disclosed his yellow teeth. Terror-stricken, Syomara threw herself back and clung to your neck.
Like the dog, when I did let go, it was only to carry away between my teeth a strip of flesh, a bleeding mouthful that I spat back into Trymalcion's hideous, tortured face, as he had spat at the Gallic women. "Father! Father!" you cried out to me through the tumult. Wishing then to approach you two, my children, I stood up, an object of terror aye, terror.
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