‘Oh, Paris!’ exclaimed Nero, flinging his arm round the actor’s neck, ‘you alone are to be envied. You are a supreme artist. No one is jealous of you. When I see you on the stage, moving the people at your will to tears or to laughter, or kindling them to the most delicious emotions—when I hear the roar of applause which greets you as you stand forth in all your grace, and make the huge theatre ring with your fine penetrating voice, I often wish we could change our parts, and I be the actor, and you the Emperor.’
‘You mock a poor mummer, Cæsar,’ said Paris; ‘but if I am to amuse you after the banquet to-night you must let me go and arrange something with Aliturus.’
Nero was left alone with Tigellinus. He yawned wearily. ‘How tedious all life is!’ he said. ‘Well, never mind, there is the banquet of the night to look forward to.’
‘Yes,’ said Tigellinus, ‘and when we are heated with wine we will wander out into the grounds; and in the caves and winding pathways Petronius and Crispinilla have invented a new amusement for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Do not ask me, Cæsar, and you will all the more enjoy its novelty.’
‘Yes, but our time here is rapidly drawing to a close, and then comes Rome again, and all the boredom of the Senate, and of hearing causes, and entertaining dull people of consequence. And there I must more or less play at propriety.’
‘Why must you, Cæsar? Cannot you do exactly as you like? Who is there to question you?’
‘My mother, Agrippina, if no one else.’
‘You have only one reason to fear the Augusta.’