“We shall not renew it,” answered Petronius, “even for the reason that in Nero’s time man is like a butterfly,—he lives in the sunshine of favor, and at the first cold wind he perishes, even against his will. By the son of Maia! more than once have I given myself this question: By what miracle has such a man as Lucius Saturninus been able to reach the age of ninety-three, to survive Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius? But never mind. Wilt thou permit me to send thy litter for Eunice? My wish to sleep has gone, somehow, and I should like to be joyous. Give command to cithara players to come to the supper, and afterward we will talk of Antium. It is needful to think of it, especially for thee.”
Vinicius gave the order to send for Eunice, but declared that he had no thought of breaking his head over the stay in Antium.
“Let those break their heads who cannot live otherwise than in the rays of Cæsar’s favor. The world does not end on the Palatine, especially for those who have something else in their hearts and souls.”
He said this so carelessly and with such animation and gladness that his whole manner struck Petronius; hence, looking for a time at him, he asked,—“What is taking place in thee? Thou art to-day as thou wert when wearing the golden bulla on thy neck.”
“I am happy,” answered Vinicius. “I have invited thee purposely to tell thee so.”
“What has happened?”
“Something which I would not give for the Roman Empire.”
Then he sat down, and, leaning on the arm of the chair, rested his head on his hand, and asked,—“Dost remember how we were at the house of Aulus Plautius, and there thou didst see for the first time the godlike maiden called by thee ‘the dawn and the spring’? Dost remember that Psyche, that incomparable, that one more beautiful than our maidens and our goddesses?”
Petronius looked at him with astonishment, as if he wished to make sure that his head was right.
“Of whom art thou speaking?” asked he at last. “Evidently I remember Lygia.”