I met her a second time at the garden cistern, with a freshly plucked reed in her hand, the top of which she dipped in the water and sprinkled the irises growing around.
Look at my knees.

By the shield of Hercules, I tell thee that they did not tremble when clouds of Parthians advanced on our maniples with howls, but they trembled before the cistern.

And, confused as a youth who still wears a bulla on his neck, I merely begged pity with my eyes, not being able to utter a word for a long time." Petronius looked at him, as if with a certain envy.

"Happy man," said he, "though the world and life were the worst possible, one thing in them will remain eternally good,--youth!" After a while he inquired: "And hast thou not spoken to her ?" "When I had recovered somewhat, I told her that I was returning from Asia, that I had disjointed my arm near the city, and had suffered severely, but at the moment of leaving that hospitable house I saw that suffering in it was more to be wished for than delight in another place, that sickness there was better than health somewhere else.

Confused too on her part, she listened to my words with bent head while drawing something with the reed on the saffron-colored sand.