be piping
a jocund melody.

The frenzy of despair left her, and she began to remember her son's
youth and the charming, boyish things about him. Perhaps among his
new friends some would love him and help him where she and his earlier
friends had failed. There was Virgil, for example. He was older, but
Propertius's enthusiasm for him seemed unbounded. He had pored over
the _Georgics_ when they came out, and only the other day he had told
her that the poet was at work on an epic that would be greater than
the _Iliad_. The boy's likes and dislikes were always violent, and
he had said once, in his absurd way, that he would rather eat crumbs
from Virgil's table than loaves from Horace's.

She knew that Virgil believed in noble things, and she had heard that
he was kind and full of sympathy. As the son of a peasant he did not
seem too imposing to her. He had been pointed out to her one day in
the street, and the memory of his shy bearing and of the embarrassed
flush on his face as he saw himself the object of interest, now gave
her courage to think of appealing to him.

Her loosened thoughts hurried on more ambitiously still. Of
Maecenas's recent kindness Propertius was inordinately proud. Would
it not be possible to reach the great man through Tullus, her son's
faithful friend, whose government position gave him a claim upon the
prime minister's attention? Surely, if the older man realised how
fast the boy was throwing his life away he would put out a restraining
hand. She had always understood that he set great store by Roman
morals. Rising from her chair with fresh energy, she bade a servant
bring her writing materials to the library. The swift Roman night
had fallen, and the house looked dull and dim except within the short
radius of each lamp. But to her it seemed lit by a new and saving
hope.

II

Nearly a week later Horace was dining quietly with Maecenas. It was
during one of the frequent estrangements between the prime minister
and his wife, and Maecenas often sent for Horace when the strain of
work had left him with little inclination to collect a larger company.
The meal was over, and on the polished citron-wood table stood a
silver mixing-bowl, and an hospitable array--after the princely
manner of the house--of gold cups, crystal flagons, and tall, slender
glasses which looked as if they might have been cut out of deep-hued
amethyst. The slaves had withdrawn, as it was one of the first nights
of the Sat