Vergilius left the scene with Augustus. They rode away in the royal litter.
"In all the great cities men are speaking to-day of the value of peace and honor," said the subtle emperor—a sceptic in religion, a cynic in philosophy, a rake in private life, and a conqueror who commanded "peace" with a trained army of four hundred and fifty thousand men.
"It is a great thing to do," said the young knight.
"Give me men enough to say it, and if they grow not weary I will bring the world to believe that the sun is only the breast-plate of Jupiter," said Augustus. "Honor and peace are good things—do not forget that, my young friend. Give the words to your tongue, not flippantly, but with a sober eye, and often, my brave knight—often. You leave to-morrow—have you made ready?"
"Ready but for the leave-taking;" this with a sigh.
"It ill becomes you to be cast down. Shake your heart with laughter—it will roll away the stone of regret. Buy a fool, my young friend. For five thousand denarii you may obtain a most excellent fool."
He knew the price of all, from the hewer of wood to the crowned king, but only he could afford a slave like that.
"I should prefer a wise man," said the young knight.
"Philosophers are more expensive," the father continued, craftily—"twenty thousand denarii, and dear at that. They will teach you little but discontent. I recommend a grammarian."
The old emperor turned his cunning eyes upon the face of Vergilius.