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At the side of my bed, Filomena, with her black, heavy hair well dressed, and herself in a kind of transitional toilette; her under-garment fine, the skirt that of a festival gown, on account of the preparations for the Carnival; her top garment the usual red jacket. She is standing with her hand on her hip, but this does not make her look martial or alarming. I You ate magro to-day?
A: Who is this Jean-Jacques? he is certainly not either John the Baptist, nor John the Evangelist, nor James the Greater, nor James the Less ; it must be some Hunnish wit who wrote that abominable impertinence or some poor joker bufo magro who wanted to laugh at what the entire world regards as most serious.
She Good gracious! Magro every day just now! I Do you know, Filomena, that I eat grasso? She Yes, and it is your duty to do so. I Why? She Because you are ill, and you must eat meat; the Pope himself ate meat when he was ill. Religion does not mean that we are to injure our health. I How do you know, Filomena, what Religion means? She From my Confessor.
'Are we not rulers of the sea? 'Was not Hannibal a great man? Such were their cries, living ever in the past and blind to the future. Before that sun sets there will be tearing of hair and rending of garments; what will that now avail us?" "It is some sad comfort," said Magro, "to know that what Rome holds she cannot keep." "Why say you that? When we go down, she is supreme in all the world."
Is it not the cursed bridge they use for boarding?" "So they grudge us even one," said Magro with a bitter laugh. "Not even one galley shall return to the old sea-mother. Well, for my part, I would as soon have it so. I am of a mind to stop the oars and await them." "It is a man's thought," answered old Gisco; "but the city will need us in the days to come.
As they talked, the two men glanced continually, with earnest anxious faces, towards the northern skyline. "It is certain," said the older man, with gloom in his voice and bearing, "none have escaped save ourselves." "I did not leave the press of the battle whilst I saw one ship which I could succour," Magro answered.
"But since we have fallen, and Rome will fall, who in turn may hope to be Queen of the Waters?" "That also I asked her," said Magro, "and gave her my Tyrian belt with the golden buckle as a guerdon for her answer. But, indeed, it was too high payment for the tale she told, which must be false if all else she said was true.
What shall it profit us to make the Roman victory complete? Nay, Magro, let the slaves row as they never rowed before, not for our own safety, but for the profit of the State." So the great red ship laboured and lurched onwards, like a weary panting stag which seeks shelter from his pursuers, while ever swifter and ever nearer sped the two lean fierce galleys from the north.
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