which bordered every street in Pompeii, Octavio found himself face to face with a handsome young man of his own age, dressed in a saffron-colored tunic, and wearing a mantle of white wool, soft as cashmere. The sight of Octavio, with his frightful modern hat, wearing a black coat, and his legs imprisoned in pantaloons, his feet pinched into tight boots, appeared to surprise the young Pompeiian, as a wild Indian would surprise us upon the boulevard with his plumes. But, as he was a well-bred young man, he did not burst into laughter; but taking pity upon Octavio, whom he thought a poor barbarian, he said to him. in a voice accentuated and soft,—
"Advena salve."
Nothing was more natural than that an inhabitant of Pompeii under the Emperor Titus, very powerful and very august, should express himself in Latin; but Octavio trembled at hearing this dead language in a living mouth. Then he congratulated himself for having studied it so thoroughly. The Latin taught at the university served him on this occasion; and, recalling his knowledge of the classics, he replied to the salutation of the Pompeiian, in the style of de viris illustribus and of selectœ e profanis, in a manner sufficiently intelligible, but with a Parisian accent which caused the young man to smile.
"Perhaps it will be easier for you to speak Greek," said the Pompeiian: "I know that language, for I studied at Athens."
"I know still less of Greek than of Latin," replied Octavio: "I am from the country of the Gauls,—from Paris."
"I know of that country. My grand-father fought there under Julius Cæsar. But what a strange costume you wear! The Gauls whom I have seen at Rome were not dressed like you."
Octavio undertook to explain to the young man that twenty centuries had rolled past since the conquest of the Gauls by Julius Cæsar, and that the styles had changed: but he got in over his head in his Latin; and, to tell the truth, it was no difficult work to do so.
"I am called Rufus Holconius, and my house is yours," said the young man, "unless you prefer the liberty of the tavern. They would treat you well at the inn of Albinus, near the gate of the faubourg Augustus Felix, and at the tavern of Sarimus, son of Publius, near the second tower; but, if you wish, I will serve as your guide in this town, which is perhaps slightly unknown to you. You please me, young barbarian, although you have tried to play upou my credulity by pretending that the Emperor Titus, who is reigning to-day, died two thousand years ago; and that the Nazarene, whose infamous followers, covered with pitch, have lighted the gardens of Nero, rules single and alone in the deserted heavens from whence the gods have fallen. By Pollux!" cried he, casting his eye upon an inscription written at the corner of a street, "you arrive at a good time: they play Plautus's 'Casina' at the theatre to-day. It is a curious comedy, which will amuse you, although you will only comprehend the pantomime. This is the time for it to begin: I will take you into the seats reserved for strangers."
And Rufus Holconius turned towards the little theâtre-comique, which the three friends had seen during the day.
The Frenchman and the citizen of Pompeii went along the street called la Fontaine d'Abondance, passing by the temple of Isis, the school of statuary, and entered the Odeon, or theâtre-comique, by a lateral entrance. Thanks to the recommendation of Holconius,
