Tigellinus grew yellow from envy; but Petronius continued,—
“Go to Antium! there she came to the world, there joy flowed in on thee, there solace will come to thee. Let the sea air freshen thy divine throat; let thy breast breathe the salt dampness. We, thy devoted ones, will follow thee everywhere; and when we assuage thy pain with friendship, thou wilt comfort us with song.
“True!” answered Nero, sadly, “I will write a hymn in her honor, and compose music for it.”
“And then thou wilt find the warm sun in Baiæ.”
“And afterward—forgetfulness in Greece.”
“In the birthplace of poetry and song.”
And his stony, gloomy state of mind passed away gradually, as clouds pass that are covering the sun; and then a conversation began which, though full of sadness, yet was full of plans for the future,—touching a journey, artistic exhibitions, and even the receptions required at the promised coming of Tiridates, King of Armenia. Tigellinus tried, it is true, to bring forward again the enchantment; but Petronius, sure now of victory, took up the challenge directly.
“Tigellinus,” said he, “dost thou think that enchantments can injure the gods?”
“Cæsar himself has mentioned them,” answered the courtier.
“Pain was speaking, not Cæsar; but thou—what is thy opinion of the matter?”