'"What thieves' talk is that?" said my Father. He hated slang.

'"Well, sir," I said, "we've one Emperor in Rome, and I don't know how
many Emperors the outlying Provinces have set up from time to time.
Which am I to follow?"

'"Gratian," said he. "At least he's a sportsman."

'"He's all that," I said. "Hasn't he turned himself into a
raw-beef-eating Scythian?"

'"Where did you hear of it?" said the Pater.

'"At Aquae Solis," I said. It was perfectly true. This precious Emperor
Gratian of ours had a bodyguard of fur-cloaked Scythians, and he was so
crazy about them that he dressed like them. In Rome of all places in the
world! It was as bad as if my own Father had painted himself blue!

'"No matter for the clothes," said the Pater. "They are only the fringe
of the trouble. It began before your time or mine. Rome has forsaken her
Gods, and must be punished. The great war with the Painted People broke
out in the very year the temples of our Gods were destroyed. We beat the
Painted People in the very year our temples were rebuilt. Go back
further still."... He went back to the time of Diocletian; and to listen
to him you would have thought Eternal Rome herself was on the edge of
destruction, just because a few people had become a little large-minded.

'_I_ knew nothing about it. Aglaia never taught us the history of our
own country. She was so full of her ancient Greeks.