[
63]
We were all dumb with astonishment, but Trimalchio
said, “I pick no holes in your story; by the soul of truth, how my hair stood
on end! For I know that Niceros never talks nonsense: he is very dependable, and
not at all a chatterbox. Now I want to tell you a tale of horror myself: but I'm
a donkey on the tiles compared with him. While I still had hair down my back,
for I lived delicately
1 from my
youth up, my master's favourite died. Oh! he was a pearl, one in a thousand, and
a mirror of perfection! So while his poor mother was bewailing him, and several
of us were
[p. 119] sharing her sorrow, suddenly the witches began to
screech; you would have thought there was a dog pursuing a hare. We had a
Cappadocian in the house at the time, a tall fellow, mighty brave and a man of
muscle; he could lift an angry bull off the ground. He rushed boldly out of
doors with a naked sword, having carefully wrapped up his left hand, and ran the
woman through the middle, just about here—may the spot my finger is on
be safe! We heard a groan, but to tell the honest truth we did not see the
witches themselves. But our big fellow came back and threw himself on a bed: and
his whole body was blue as if he had been flogged, of course because the witch's
hand had touched him. We shut the door and returned to our observances, but when
the mother put her arms round the body of her son, she felt it and saw that it
was a little bundle of straw. It had no heart, no inside or anything: of course
the witches had carried off the boy and put a straw changeling in his place. Ah!
yes, I would beg you to believe there are wise women, and night-riders, who can
turn the whole world upside down. Well, the tall slave never came back to his
proper colour after this affair, and died raving mad in a few days.”