When I next write, I shall have somewhat to say of Marcus, Lucilia, and the little Gallus. How noble and generous in the Queen, her magnificent gift! When summer comes round again, I shall not fail, together with Julia, to see you there. How many recollections will come thronging upon me when I shall again find myself in the court of the Elephant, sitting where I once sat so often and listened to the voice of Longinus. May you see there many happy years. Farewell.
Nothing could exceed the sensation caused in Rome by the voice heard at the dedication, and among the adherents of the popular faith, by the unlucky omens of the day and of the sacrifice. My office at that time called me often to the capital, and to the palace of Aurelian, and threw me frequently into his company and that of Livia. My presence was little heeded by the Emperor, who, of a bold and manly temper, spoke out with little reserve, and with no disguise or fear, whatever sentiments possessed him. From such opportunities, and from communications of Menestheus, the secretary of Aurelian, little took place at the palace which came not to my knowledge. The morning succeeding the dedication I had come to the city bringing a packet from the Queen to the Empress Livia. While I waited in the common reception room of the palace, I took from a case standing there, a volume and read. As I read, I presently was aroused by the sound of Aurelian's voice. It was as if engaged in earnest conversation. He soon entered the apartment accompanied by the priest of the new temple.
'There is something,' he said as he drew near, 'in this combination of unlucky signs that might appal a stouter spirit than mine. This too, after a munificence toward not one only but all the temples, never I am sure surpassed. Every god has been propitiated by gifts and appropriate rites. How can all this be interpreted other than most darkly—other than as a general hostility—and a discouragement from an enterprise upon which I would found my glory. This has come most unlooked for. I confess myself perplexed. I have openly proclaimed my purpose—the word has gone abroad and travelled by this to the court of Persia itself, that with all Rome at my back I am once more to tempt the deserts of the East.'
He here suddenly paused, being reminded by Fronto of my presence.
'Ah, it matters not;' he said; 'this is but Nichomachus, the good servant of the Queen of Palmyra. I hope,' he said, turning to me, 'that the Queen is well, and the young Faustula?'
'They are well,' I replied.
'How agree with her these cooler airs of the west? These are not the breezes of Arabia, that come to-day from the mountains.'
'She heeds them little,' I replied, 'her thoughts are engrossed by heavier cares.'