and he had
just made preparations for it when the letter from Vinicius came.

When he received this letter, Petronius grew somewhat thoughtful,
but after a time his face regained its usual composure, and that same
evening he answered as follows:--

"I rejoice at your happiness and admire your hearts, for I had not
thought that two lovers could remember a third person who was far away.
Ye have not only not forgotten me, but ye wish to persuade me to go to
Sicily, so that ye may share with me your bread and your Christ, who, as
thou writest, has given you happiness so bountifully.

"If that be true, honor Him. To my thinking, however, Ursus had
something to do with saving Lygia, and the Roman people also had a
little to do with it. But since thy belief is that Christ did the
work, I will not contradict. Spare no offerings to Him. Prometheus also
sacrificed himself for man; but, alas! Prometheus is an invention of the
poets apparently, while people worthy of credit have told me that they
saw Christ with their own eyes. I agree with thee that He is the most
worthy of the gods.

"I remember the question by Paul of Tarsus, and I think that if
Ahenobarbus lived according to Christ's teaching I might have time to
visit you in Sicily. In that case we could converse, in the shade of
trees and near fountains, of all the gods and all the truths discussed
by Greek philosophers at any time. To-day I must give thee a brief
answer.

"I care for two philosophers only: Pyrrho and Anacreon. I am ready to
sell the rest to thee cheaply, with all the Greek and Roman Stoics.
Truth, Vinicius, dwells somewhere so high that the gods themselves
cannot see it from the top of Olympus. To thee, carissime, thy Olympus
seems higher still, and, standing there, thou callest to me, 'Come, thou
wilt see such sights as thou hast not seen yet!' I might. But I answer,
'I have not feet for the journey.' And if thou read this letter to the
end, thou wilt acknowledge, I think, that I am right.

"No, happy husband of the Aurora princess! thy religion is not for me.
Am I to love the Bithynians who carry my litter, the Egyptians who heat
my bath? Am I to love Ahenobarbus and Tigellinus? I swear by the white
knees of the Graces, that even if I wished to love them I could not.
In Rome there are a hundred thousand persons at least who have either
crooked shoulders, or big knees, or thin thighs, or staring eyes, or
heads that are too large. Dost thou command m