Agias had often seen that pale, pimpled face, and those long effeminate curls in company with Lucius Ahenobarbus.
The rider was Publius Gabinius, and the young Greek did not need to be told that his coming boded no good to Drusus.

Gabinius looked carefully at the villa, into the groves surrounding it, and then up and down the highway.

Then he touched the spur to his mount, and was gone.
[112] _Puls_, the primitive Italian food.
Agias wrung his manacled hands.

Drusus would be murdered, Cornelia's happiness undone, and he himself would become the slave of Lucius Ahenobarbus, who, when he had heard Phaon's story, would show little enough of mercy.

He cursed the suspicious porter, cursed Falto, cursed every slave and freedman on the estate, cursed Mamercus for not leaving some word about the possibility of his coming from Rome.
Agias's imprecations spent themselves in air; and he was none the happier.