‘And much more too—it requires no planets to tell us that,’ said Sejanus derisively.
Thrasullus smiled scornfully and, without deigning to reply, turned to the Emperor and said, ‘What does Caesar think of this new species of glassware, which would seem to be practically indestructible?’
‘Indestructible material must ever have the preference over the perishable.’
‘Yes, when there is tolerable equality in other respects. For the kitchen and tables of the poor, the ware that is proof against time and usage is priceless. But how, if, as this potter [pg 318]says, the principle can be applied to works of the highest beauty and art, such as deck the boards and mansions of the noble and wealthy, the chosen of mankind?’
‘It does not alter the circumstances. I should prefer to have this precious vase before me safe from all possible fracture.’
‘And so would the rest of mankind owning such a treasure. Thus then, this union of beauty and economy becoming universal, to what esteem and value will the precious metals sink? Look to it, Caesar, and great ones of the earth, possessors of the priceless wealth of gold and silver! This poor potter with his bowl is a leveller and cheapener of ye all.’
‘Thank heaven ’tis a danger I am quit of,’ quoth Afer, in a tone which raised a laugh; and, after Plautia retired a few minutes later, the discussion upon the very plausible theory put forward by Thrasullus was continued with animation some time longer.
The appearance of Masthlion in the character of an inventor struck Plautia as a very extraordinary coincidence, and added fresh fuel to her excited thoughts. She lay sleepless for hours, turning restlessly from side to side with the sharply graven image of the potter rooted in her brain. The mystery of the man’s daughter tormented her. A mental portrait of her she had formed long ago, but now a fierce desire to see with her own eyes took possession of her. She must visit Surrentum—she would request it of Caesar—nay, she would demand it. The old man was infatuated and would grant her any wish—any whim. A thought struck her, and she started up with the blood tingling through her veins. Would not this man’s lovely daughter be a more acceptable and interesting object in the villa than his glassware! Fool she was not to think of it before!
To find the cherished flower—the paragon of loveliness within the fatal walls of the villa when he returned! Ha, then would Martialis have his due. She sank back with a sinister laugh.
When the morning came she despatched a messenger to Priscus, a knight and personal friend and follower of Tiberius. He had been of the party at the supper-table the previous evening. In half an hour he entered the apartment, newly-[pg 319]shaven, curled, fresh and wreathed in smiles. She had chosen her man well, for in all matters domestic he was Caesar’s confidant. With political matters he meddled not, repelled alike by inclination and prudence. But in the daily minutiæ of the personal and private occupations of his Imperial friend and ruler he was indispensable, inestimable as thinker, provider, arranger—a true lion’s jackal.