C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Adventure of the Cloak
By Petronius (c. 27–66)
A
It was late when I reached the city; and there at the first inn I found Ascyltos lying, half dead with fatigue, on a miserable pallet. I let myself fall on another bed, and couldn’t utter a single word. Greatly disturbed at not seeing my mantle, he demanded it of me in the most peremptory tones. I was too weak to articulate, and a melancholy glance was my only answer. Later, when my strength returned, I unfolded our misfortune to Ascyltos. He thought I was joking; and in spite of my tears and solemn protestations, did not entirely lay aside his suspicions, but seemed inclined to think that I wanted to cheat him out of the money. This distressed me; and still more the consciousness that the police were on our tracks. When I spoke of this to Ascyltos, he took it lightly enough, because he had escaped from their clutches before. He assured me that we were perfectly safe, as we had no acquaintances, and no one had seen us. Yet we would have liked to feign illness, and keep to our bedroom; but our money was gone, and we had to set out sooner than we had planned, and under the pressure of need sell some of our garments.
As night was closing in, we came to a market-place where we saw a quantity of things on sale, not valuable in truth, and of which the ownership was so questionable that night was surely the best time to dispose of them. We too had brought the stolen cloak; and finding the opportunity so favorable, we took up our stand in a corner, and unfolded an edge of the garment, in the hope that its splendor might attract a purchaser. In a few minutes up comes a peasant well known to me by sight, with a young woman alongside, and begins to examine the cloak carefully. On his part Ascyltos cast a glance towards the shoulders of the rustic, and stood spell-bound; for he saw it was the very man who had picked up my mantle in the forest, neither more nor less. But Ascyltos could not believe his eyes; and to make sure, under pretext of drawing the would-be purchaser towards him, he drew the mantle from his shoulders and fingered it carefully.
Oh, wonderful irony of fortune! the peasant had never felt the seams, and was ready to sell it for a mere mass of rags, which a beggar would scorn. As soon as he had made sure that our deposit was intact, Ascyltos, after surveying the man, drew me to one side and—“Learn, brother,” said he, “that the treasure for which I lamented is restored to us. That is the very mantle and the money in it, to the best of my belief. Now what are we to do to get it back?” I was delighted, not only because I saw the plunder, but because fortune had cleared me of so base a suspicion. I wanted no beating about the bush, but a straightforward appeal to justice; and should the man refuse to give up another’s property on demand, his summons to court.
But Ascyltos stood in dread of the law. “Who knows us here,” said he, “or who would believe what we said? Better buy it, since we know its value, even though it be ours already, than get into court. We shall get it cheap.
But save for one small coin, with which we had meant to buy pease and beans, we were penniless. So not to lose our hold, nor run the risk of letting slip the better bargain, we came down in the price of the cloak. As soon as we had unfolded our merchandise, the woman, who with covered head had been standing at the peasant’s side, grasped the garment with both hands, screaming at the top of her voice that she had caught her thieves. In response, for the sake of doing something, though we were horribly frightened, we seized the torn and dirty mantle, and with equal energy announced that it was our property. But our case was weaker than theirs by far, and the crowd, which ran up at the noise, enjoyed a hearty laugh at our expense; seeing that the others were claiming a splendid garment, and we one that was dirty and covered with patches. When they had had their laugh out, Ascyltos said, “You see a man loves his own best: let them give us back our mantle and take their cloak.” This bargain suited both the peasant and the woman; but up came two sheriffs—two night-hawks, rather—and wanted to appropriate the cloak. They demanded that both garments should be deposited with them, saying the judge would decide on the merits of the case the following day. And they said moreover that the real question was, against which party a charge of theft could be brought. They had all but settled on confiscating the goods; and a man in the crowd, bald, with pimply forehead, who had something to do with the courts, took hold of the cloak and declared that he would produce it the following day. It was clear that their real object was to get hold of the cloak and share it among themselves, feeling sure that we would not dare to present ourselves in court. True enough too, and so the case was speedily settled; for the angry peasant, disgusted at our making such a fuss about a mass of patches, threw the mantle in Ascyltos’s face and ordered him to hand over the cloak, the only ground of dispute. Our treasure once more in our hands, we hurried away to the tavern, and behind closed doors had a good laugh at the sharpness of the peasant and the crowd, who had combined by their cleverness to get us back our money.