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[7]
At last I went up to an old woman who
was selling country vegetables and said,“Please, mother, do you happen to know
where I live?” She was charmed with such a polite fool.“Of course I
do,” she said, and got up and began to lead the way. I thought her a
prophetess . . . ., and when we had got into an obscure quarter the obliging old
lady pushed back a patchwork curtain and said,“This should be your
house.” I was saying that I did not remember it, when I noticed some men and
naked women walking cautiously about among placards of price. Too late, too late I
realized that I had been taken into a bawdy-house. I cursed the cunning old woman,
and covered my head, and began to run through the brothel to another part, when just
at the entrance Ascyltos met me, as tired as I was, and half-dead. It looked as
though the same old lady had brought him there. I hailed him with a laugh, and asked
him what he was doing in such an unpleasant spot.
Petronius Arbiter. Petronius. Michael Heseltine. London. William Heinemann. 1913.
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