CHAPTER VIII 



THE ERGATES ; THE COSSUS 



THIS is Shrove Tuesday, a relic of the 

 saturnalia of old; and I have it in my 

 mind to do some strange cooking, which 

 would have delighted the soul of a Roman 

 gourmet. When I let my imagination run 

 away with me, I want my folly to achieve 

 some measure of notoriety. I must have 

 witnesses, connoisseurs who will be able, 

 each in his fashion, to appreciate the merits 

 of an unknown fare of which none but the 

 classical scholar has ever heard before. A 

 question so serious must be debated in 

 council. 



There will be eight of us: my family, to 

 begin with, and then two friends, probably 

 the only persons in the village in whose pres- 

 ence I may venture on these eccentricities of 

 the table without provoking comments on 

 what would be regarded as a depraved taste. 



One of them is the schoolmaster. Let us 

 call him by his name, Julian, as he has no ob- 

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