On this the painter, leaving Sextus, advanced to her side, and after a pause of some moments, spent in contemplating alternately his own work and the original, said, with a courteous simper, “How much am I indebted to you, most noble lady, for this visit, and these judicious remarks! I only wish you had accompanied the senator, for then, without question, his countenance would have worn the look you desiderate; and I perhaps might have more easily succeeded in catching it, being aided by your suggestions. I hope it may yet be amended.”—“How modest he is!” ejaculated the spouse. “A single sitting will suffice, I am sure. We shall come some day when you are quite alone, and I will sit by you, and talk to Rupilius all the while.”—“Delightful!” replied the artist; “how happy shall I be in such an opportunity of improving both the picture and myself! We must positively prevail on the senator to give us this one sitting more.”—“Never ask his consent,” quoth the matron, smiling upon her lord; “leave the whole matter to me. The picture is for me. And besides, if he were to refuse, I know how I should be certain to overcome him; for he has asked me to sit to you myself, and you know if I were to persist in sitting with my gloomy face, as he has with his, we should soon bring him to his right reason.”—“Your gloomy face, noble lady!” replied the artist, strutting back a pace or two. “I am afraid, if that is the charm by which alone he is to be softened, we must give up all our hopes.”—“I protest,” says the lady, “I believe you will keep me laughing all the time I sit. And pray now, what dress do you think I should wear? Prima says, I ought certainly to be in green; [pg 193]but I was thinking, that perhaps a yellow byssine would suit me better. But I shall send over half a dozen robes, and then we can choose whichever seems to be the best. One thing only I am quite resolved upon, and that is, that I shall have my golden chain, with the miniature of the Pro-prætor—the Senator, I mean—at the end of it.”—“Nothing could be in finer taste,” he made answer; “and if my lady should think of green, or purple, or any dark colour for the gown, the rings of the chain and the setting of the miniature would have the richest effect.”—“And do, my dear mother,” interrupted Prima; “and do have on the sapphire tiara when you sit to Agaso. Or what would you think of having your own hair simply like this lady here? What a beauty!”—“A smart little girl, indeed,” quoth the mother. “I think I should know that face. Is she Roman, Agaso?”—“No, not a Roman,” answered the artist; “nor do I think my lady can ever have met with her. But perhaps my Lord Rupilius may, for she is a Spaniard.”
Agaso turned with a smile to the Senator; but he, scarcely appearing to look at the picture, answered, with great gravity, “I think I have seen the countenance before; and perhaps it was in my province. The face is certainly a pretty one; but nothing so very extraordinary.”—“They may say what they like,” observed the spouse, drawing herself up; “but there is no such thing as a really urbane air to be got out of Rome.”
Meantime, in another part of the room, some other picture appeared to be exciting a scarcely inferior measure of curiosity. On approaching the party, I perceived that this was a sketch, in chalk only, of the head [pg 194]and shoulders of an old man; and when I had gained an opportunity of more nearly surveying it, I recognized without difficulty the features of Tisias of Antioch. The greater number of those who were looking on it, seemed also to have been present at his death; for I heard pointed out by them with exactness the parts in which the resemblance had been most successfully taken. The beauty of the old man’s lineaments, and the serenity of his aspect, they all admired; and while they were loud in praising these, Agaso himself also joined them, saying, “Oh, so you have found out my old Christian! How did you get hold of him? for I meant it not to be seen till I had lain on a little of the colour. But is it not a fine study?—is it not a noble head? I think I shall introduce it in the picture I am painting for Pliny. The subject is the sacrifice of Iphigenia. I went to the Amphitheatre,” he continued, “rather late, without expecting any thing particular; but it immediately struck me that he might be turned to some account. I made several little sketches of him, for it was a long time ere it was over; and this is from the one I took just after he had made his oration. His hands and feet were singularly fine, I thought. Here,” said he, turning over the leaves of his tablets—“here you have him in a variety of shapes!—the muscles shewed powerfully when he knelt;—there, again, you have his fingers as they were folded on his breast—not much flesh, but the lines good—veins well expressed.”
But about this time the great bell rung in the tower above the Baths, and the greater part of the young loungers soon dispersed themselves; some to fence or wrestle—others to play in the tennis-court—others to [pg 195]ride in the Hippodrome, in preparation for the bath. So Agaso, being left alone with Sextus, Rubellia, and myself, had at length leisure to proceed with his portrait of the youth.
Much did the lady and the painter discourse, and many merry things were said by them both; but all they said could not entirely remove the embarrassment fixed on the countenance of Sextus; nor, of a truth, did he present himself with much advantage before the artist. Rubellia, nevertheless, sate over against him with looks of no severe criticism; and I doubt not she would have remained to the end of the sitting, had not one of her household come with a message, which, as it seemed, rendered necessary her departure. It struck me, that the messenger answered very well to Dromo’s description of the fat Calabrian with whom he and Boto had been drinking; but of this I said nothing to Sextus.
It was near the hour of supper before we were dismissed, and we found Licinius already about to enter his eating chamber.
CHAPTER V.
The orator received us with less coldness than I could have expected. I suppose his knowledge that our morning had been spent in Rubellia’s company, had in some measure softened his feelings of jealousy towards his son; and perhaps he had given me credit for advice, to the merit of which I had no claim. But he remained not long at table after supper was concluded, being summoned to discourse in private with a client:—so that Sextus and I were left to spend the evening as it might please ourselves; for as to Xerophrastes, he had not as yet made his appearance, and we took it for granted he had remained at the mansion of Fabricius, for the purpose of consoling with philosophical controversies his bereaved brother of Ionia.