'The lord Basil cares naught for such things, and would not contradict you lest you should scratch his face--so dangerous you look, much more like a cat than a mouse.

By the beard of Holy Peter! should not Heliodora know, who, though she is too young to remember it herself, has heard of it many a time from her father.

You think too much of yourself, O Muscula, since you ate crumbs from the hands of Bessas.' The boy Vivian gave a loud laugh, rolling on his cushions.
'O witty Galla!' he exclaimed.

'Crumbs from the hand of Bessas.

Say on, say on; I love your spicy wit, O Galla! Cannot you find something sharp, for the most grave, the most virtuous Basil ?' 'Hold your saucy tongue, child,' said Heliodora with a pouting smile.
'But it is true that Muscula has won advancement.