When Sónnica and Actæon entered the festal hall, the guests stood in groups near the purple couches arranged about the curving table, the marble top of which some slaves were washing with sponges and perfumed water. Four enormous bronze lampadaries occupied the corners of the triclinium. From their brackets were suspended numberless little jars of perfumed oil, in which floated wicks, shedding a rich light. Garlands of roses and foliage hung from lamp to lamp, constituting a fragrant border for the banquet hall. Near a door leading to the peristyle stood carved wooden tables piled with gold and silver dishes and the keen-edged carving knives for the use of the slaves.
Alorcus the Celtiberian stood talking with Lachares and three of those young Greeks who so scandalized the Saguntines in the Forum by their effeminate ways. The arrogant barbarian, according to the custom of his race, wore his sword belted to his waist until the banquet began, when he hung it upon the ivory anaclintron of the couch that he might have it ever within reach of his hand.
At the other extreme of the table two citizens of advanced age, and Alcon the pacific Saguntine, with whom Actæon had spoken that morning on the esplanade of the Acropolis, were carrying on a quiet conversation.
The two old men were long-time friends of the house, Greek merchants whom Sónnica had taken as partners in business, and whom she invited to her nocturnal feasts, appreciating the dignified air which they added to these occasions.
As the devoted pair entered the banquet chamber the guests divined their felicity in Sónnica's tender, shining eyes, and in the abandon with which she inclined toward Actæon her blonde head, crowned with roses and violets.
"At last we have a master," murmured Lachares with a tone of jealousy.
"He has been more fortunate than we," replied the Celtiberian resignedly. "But he is an Athenian, and I can understand that Sónnica, the cold hearted, should have surrendered to one of her own people."
Actæon, being presented to the guests, moved about the hall with the self-possession of a potentate enjoying his riches, like a man accustomed to princely splendors—he whom a stroke of fortune had suddenly lifted out of poverty to his old-time condition.
At a signal from Sónnica the guests reclined upon the purple couches which surrounded the table, and four young girls entered the hall bearing on their heads, with the slender grace of canephoræ, little willow baskets filled with rose-crowns. They walked with airy ease, as if gliding over the mosaic to the sound of invisible flutes, and with their delicate girlish hands they crowned the guests with flowers.
Suddenly the steward appeared with an irritated countenance.