“We are quite ready,” said Claudia.
A dense crowd had gathered outside the vestibule. Quintus, with only three of his slaves, was waiting impatiently in the entrance. The twelve litter-bearers in their red livery stood by the poles, and eight negroes—the van and rear-guard of the procession—were staring vacantly into the air. A number of idlers had collected round these—the inquisitive gapers who always swarmed wherever there was anything to be seen, however trivial. These were the class who, not choosing to work, lived on the corn given away by the state;[216] the uproarious mob who filled the upper rows of seats in the theatres and circus; the populace whose suffrages no Caesar was too proud to court, since it was among these that arbitrary despotism had its most staunch adherents, in the struggle against the last remnants of a free and freedom-loving aristocracy.
“Oh! how handsome she is!” ran from mouth to mouth among the loiterers, as Claudia stepped into the foremost litter; Lucilia took her place by her adopted sister’s side. The second litter was to carry Baucis and a young slave girl.
“Make way!” cried the principal runner, stepping among the crowd, who fell back, and the procession set out. Quintus followed on foot at a short distance.
Their way led them through the Forum and past the venerable temple of Saturn, where the Roman state-treasure was kept. To the right on the Palatine, spread the enormous palaces of the Caesars, and among them the capitol and the splendid but scarcely-finished residence of Domitian. Proceeding but slowly, they reached the Arch of Titus[217] and then, leaving the fountain of the Meta Sudans[218] and the vast Flavian amphitheatre[219] to the right, they turned into the street leading to the Caelimontana Gate.[220] The throng of humanity, which in the neighborhood of the Forum defied all description, here became somewhat thinner; and the litter-bearers mended their pace. In about ten minutes they stopped at a house, which in point of magnificence was hardly inferior to that of the Flamen Titus Claudius Mucianus. In the vestibule, beside the door-keeper, there stood a stout little woman, who hailed the visitors from afar with a broad grin, and was most eager to be of use to the young ladies as they alighted. This little woman was Chloe, Cornelia’s maid; her mistress now appeared on the scene, a tall and finely-made young girl, with hair as black as night, dressed entirely in white and wearing no ornament but a string of large, softly-gleaming pearls. The girls embraced each other warmly.
Quintus had by this time joined them; with a tender light in his eyes he went straight up to his betrothed and kissed her gravely on the forehead. “All health, happiness and blessing on you, on your birthday,[221] my sweet Cornelia!” he said affectionately; then taking her hand he led her into the atrium. This was festally decorated with flowers; in the middle stood a hearth[222] after the old fashion, but there were no images of the Lares and Penates. Cornelius Cinna held the opinions and views of the world at large, which had been taught by Lucretius[223] and Pliny the Elder;[224] he thought it folly to enquire curiously as to the form and aspect of the Divinity, or even of any particular god or goddess; since, if there be indeed a Power beyond and behind Nature, that Power must be Force and Wisdom pure and simple. Hence he contemned all the ordinary household gods.
Eight or ten guests were already assembled in the atrium, among them Caius Aurelius and his faithful follower Herodianus.
The young Batavian did not at first seem to observe the new arrivals. He was standing in grave conversation with the master of the house, whose gloomy and almost sinister countenance by no means harmonized with the gay decorations of the hearth and the Corinthian columns.
“I thank you,” said Cinna offering the young man his hand. “Your words have done me good. But now, ask no farther....”
“As you desire....”