“Evil!” exclaimed Domitia, looking through one of the gaps in the arcade, at the lake; on a balustrade above the water stood a dreaming peacock, whilst below it grew bright flowers. Beyond, as clouds, hung the blue Sabine hills.
“The Divine ray,” said the girl, “seems rarely to delight in its incorporation in Matter, and to find therein its expression, much as do our thoughts in words. May it not be that Primordial Idea is inarticulate without Matter in which to utter itself?”
“Felicity,” continued the Chaldæan, disregarding the objection, “is sought by many in the satisfying of their animal appetites, in pleasing eye and ear and taste and smell. But in all is found the after-taste of satiety that gluts. True happiness is to be sought in teaching the mind to dispense with sensuous delights, and to live in absorption in itself.”
“Why, Elymas!” said Domitia. “In fine, you arrive by another method at that Apathy which Senecio the Stoic advocates. I grant you give a reason—which seems to me lame—but it is a reason, whereas he supplies none. But I like not your goal—Apathy is the reverse from Felicity. Leave me.”
The Magus retired, mortified at his doctrine being so ill received.
Then Euphrosyne approached timidly.
Domitia, who was in moody thought, looked up. The girl could not venture to speak till invited to do so by her mistress.
“Your lady mother has desired me to announce to you that Lucius Ælius Lamia hath ridden over from Rome.”
“I will come presently,” said Domitia; “I am just now too troubled in mind. You, child, tell me, where is the physician, Luke?”
“Lady, I do not know; he quitted us on reaching Rome.”