Page:The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter (1922), vol. 2.djvu/95



She seated herself upon the other side of the bed and in quavering tones commenced to accuse the delays of old age. At last the priestess came in. “Why,” she cried, “what has brought you into my cell as if you were visiting a newly made grave? And on a feast-day, too, when even mourners ought to smile!” “Œnothea,” the old hag replied, “this young man here was born under an unlucky star: he can’t dispose of his goods to either boy or girl. Such an unfortunate fellow you never saw. He has no tool at all, only a piece of leather soaked in water! I wish you would tell me what you think of a man who could get up from Circe’s bed without having tasted pleasure!” On hearing these words, Œnothea sat down between us Rh