“It is my will, Domitia, that you remain in your seat. The cream of the entertainment has yet to come.”
Ursus put his hand to her garment and gently drew her down on her seat.
“Endure it,” he whispered, “it will soon be over.”
“It is the worst outrage of all,” said she with heaving breast, and the blood so surged into her eyes and ears that she could see and hear no more.
Indeed, she was hardly conscious when the buffoons withdrew, her eyes rested on the marble floor, strewn with the remains of the feast.[13] But suddenly she started from the dream, or the stupefaction into which she had fallen, by hearing the voice of Paris, the tragic actor.
She looked up sharply, and saw him, a tall, handsome man, of Greek profile, and with curly dark hair. He was clad in a long mantle, and wore the buskins. Behind him were minor performers, to take a part in dialogue, or to chant a chorus.
“Lord and Augustus, what is it your pleasure that we represent in your presence?” asked the actor.
“Repeat the speech of Œdipus Coloneus to Theseus towards the close of the drama. That, I mean, which begins, ‘O son of Ægeus, I will teach the things that are in store.’ ”
Paris bowed, and drawing himself up, closing his eyes to represent the blindness of the old king he personated, and with hands extended began:
“O son of Ægeus, I will teach the things that are in store.