Lucius took the roll like a lover caressing his beloved. Yet he handled its spindles clumsily, almost, thought Eprius, as if he were not used to unrolling a book to read it. Don’t be a fool, he told himself: A book dealer sees more books in a month than you will in ten years. The wine has simply made his fingers awkward. He certainly reads well enough-he isn’t even moving his lips, which is more than you can claim for your reading.
A passage seemed to please the stranger, who began to read aloud. His accent was, if anything, stronger in Greek than in Latin, but he paid scrupulous heed to the complex meter of the tragedian’s verse. Despite himself, Eprius was impressed.
Lucius read silently once more, faster and still faster, whipping through the scroll now with a speed that left Eprius blinking. A lamp went out, but Lucius never noticed. He read aloud again:
“ ‘Stop! It is enough to have been called father,
If indeed I begot you. But if not, the harm is less,
For what one believes carries more weight than the truth.’ “
He turned in triumph to Marcus.”That clinches it!” he said. “This is one of the sections Stobaeus quotes, and this is the genuine Aleadai!”
“Of course it’s genuine,” Eprius said in aggrieved tones. These fellows had approached him. Did they now think he was trying to cheat them? And who was Stobaeus? The name was not familiar.
Neither of his guests was listening to him. They sprang from their couches, Lucius carefully put the Aleadai down first, and capered about in ridiculous fashion. They slapped each other’s backs, swatted each other’s palms, and clasped each other’s wrists, all the while making interlocking rings of thumbs and forefingers. Barbarians after all, Eprius thought.