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sad, fearful, and beset with curiosity. "If there be no gods," they were wont to ask, "have we any hope and responsibility?" They studied the philosophers Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, Epicurus, and were unsatisfied. The nations were at peace, but not the souls of men. A universal and mighty war of the spirit was near at hand. The skirmishers were busy--patrician and plebeian, master and slave, oppressor and oppressed. Soon all were to see the line of battle, the immortal captains, the children of darkness, the children of light, the beginning of a great revolution. Rome was like a weary child whose toys are gods and men, and who, being weary of them, has yet a curiosity in their destruction. CHAPTER 2 Those days it was near twelve o'clock by the great dial of history. One day, about mid-afternoon, the old capital lay glowing in the sunlight. Its hills were white with marble and green with gardens, and traced and spotted and flecked with gold; its thoroughfares were bright with color--white, purple, yellow, scarlet--like a field of roses and amarantus. The fashionable day had begun; knight and lady were now making and receiving visits. Five litters and some forty slaves, who bore and followed them, were waiting in the court of the palace of the Lady Lucia. Beyond the walls of white marble a noble company was gathered that summer day. There were the hostess and her daughter; three young noblemen, the purple stripes on each angusticlave telling of knightly rank; a Jewish prince in purple and gold; an old philosopher, and a poet who had been reading love lines. It was the age of pagan chivalry, and one might imperil his future with poor wit or a faulty epigram. Those older men had long held the floor, and their hostess, seeking to rally the young knights, challenged their skill in courtly compliment. "O men, who have forgotten the love of women these days, look at her!" So spoke the Lady Lucia--she that was widow of the Praefect Publius, who fell with half his cohort in the desert wars. She had risen from a chair of ebony enriched by cunning Etruscan art--four mounted knights charging across its heavy back in armor of wrought gold. She stopped, facing the company, between two columns of white marble beautifully sculptured. Upon each a vine rose, limberly and with soft leaves in the stone, from base to capital. Her daughter stood in the midst of a group of maids who were dressing her hair.
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