!
I love the life I've lost, but, see!
The life that's here loves me.

And while I seem her willing slave,
My heart is hid in weeds that wave
Above a distant grave.

AENONE:

A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN ROME.

CHAPTER XIV.

In an hour from that time the banqueting hall of the palace was prepared
for its guests. Silken couches had been drawn up around the table. Upon
it glittered a rich array of gold and silver. Between the dishes stood
flasks of rare wines. Upon the buffet near by were other wines cooling
in Apennine snow. Tall candelabras in worked and twisted bronze stood at
the ends and sides of the table, and stretched overhead their arms hung
with lamps. From the walls were suspended other lamps, lighting up the
tapestries and frescoes. At one end of the hall, richly scented spices
burned upon a tripod. With a readiness and celerity for which the Vanno
palace was famous, a feast fit for the emperor had been improvised in a
few minutes, and nothing was now wanting except the guests.

These now began to drop in one by one. The poet Emilius--the comedian
Bassus--the proconsul Sardesus--others of lesser note; but not one who
had not a claim to be present, by reason of intimate acquaintance or
else some peculiarly valuable trait of conviviality. In collecting
these, the armor bearer had made no mistake; and knowing his master's
tastes and intimates, he had made up the roll of guests as discreetly as
though their names had been given him. One he had met in the
street--others he had found at their homes. None to whom he gave the
invitation was backward in accepting it upon the spot, for there were
few places in Rome where equal festal gratification could be obtained.
To have been called to the house of Sergius Vanno and not to have gone
there, was to have lost a day to be forever regretted. None, therefore,
who had been spoken to, among that club of congenial spirits, was
absent. Of those who did not come, one was sick and two were at their
country villas. These, however, were lesser lights, valuable by
themselves, perhaps, but of no account in comparison with others who had
come; and therefore their absence was scarcely noticed.

Sergius stood at the door receiving his guests as each arrived. He had
arrayed himself in his most festive costume, and had evidently resolved
that whatever might happen on the morrow, that night at least should be
passed in forgetfulness and unbridled enjoyment. Even now