I could eat no more, so I turned to my whilom informant to learn as much
as I could and sought to draw him out with far-fetched gossip. I
inquired who that woman could be who was scurrying about hither and yon
in such a fashion. "She's called Fortunata," he replied. "She's the
wife of Trimalchio, and she measures her money by the peck. And only a
little while ago, what was she! May your genius pardon me, but you would
not have been willing to take a crust of bread from her hand. Now,
without rhyme or reason, she's in the seventh heaven and is Trimalchio's
factotum, so much so that he would believe her if she told him it was
dark when it was broad daylight! As for him, he don't know how rich he
is, but this harlot keeps an eye on everything and where you least expect
to find her, you're sure to run into her. She's temperate, sober, full
of good advice, and has many good qualities, but she has a scolding
tongue, a very magpie on a sofa, those she likes, she likes, but those
she dislikes, she dislikes! Trimalchio himself has estates as broad as
the flight of a kite is long, and piles of money. There's more silver
plate lying in his steward's office than other men have in their whole
fortunes! And as for slaves, damn me if I believe a tenth of them knows
the master by sight. The truth is, that these stand-a-gapes are so much
in awe of him that any one of them would step into a fresh dunghill
without ever knowing it, at a mere nod from him!"