Nothing in the smallest degree unseemly was allowed in the house of Longa Duilia, at such entertainments.
We read a good deal, in the ancient authors, of the license allowed at such times, but this was not general, certainly was not suffered except in very “fast” houses, and such were attended by none who respected themselves.
The widow knew how to make herself agreeable. Flavius Sabinus, the præfect, was a great talker, and there was a little rivalry between the two as to which should lead the conversation. Domitia hardly spoke, but the guests generally entertained themselves heartily.
Lamia was there, and near his betrothed, but found it difficult to carry on conversation with her. Since the questioning of Ishtar in the Temple at Gabii, she had been haunted by the visions presented to her inner sight, and she was unable to shake off the oppression of spirits and distress of mind, they had caused.
When supper was ended, previous to the dessert, all rose, a grace was said, and again the household gods were invoked.
All were thus standing, in solemn hush, whilst a portion for the deities was being taken away, when the curtain before the door was roughly drawn aside, and a young man ran in—then halted, bewildered by the lights and the company, and hesitated before advancing further.
A faint cry escaped the breast of Domitia; and she staggered back, and caught Lamia convulsively by the wrist.
Then Flavius Sabinus said apologetically to his hostess:
“This youth is my nephew, Titus Flavius Domitianus, the younger son of my brother Vespasian. Pardon his lack of breeding, lady—I bade him find me here, if matters of importance demanded my attention. Excuse me, I pray, if I retire with him and hear what news of weight he bears.”
Duilia bowed, and the præfect, leaving his place, went to meet his nephew.