hrysothemis. Then he recalled Poppaea; and that most
famous Poppaea also seemed to him soulless, a waxen mask. In that maiden
with Tanagrian outlines there was not only spring, but a radiant soul,
which shone through her rosy body as a flame through a lamp.

"Vinicius is right," thought he, "and my Chrysothemis is old, old!--as
Troy!"

Then he turned to Pomponia Graecina, and, pointing to the garden,
said,--"I understand now, domina, why thou and thy husband prefer this
house to the Circus and to feasts on the Palatine."

"Yes," answered she, turning her eyes in the direction of little Aulus
and Lygia.

But the old general began to relate the history of the maiden, and what
he had heard years before from Atelius Hister about the Lygian people
who lived in the gloom of the North.

The three outside had finished playing ball, and for some time had
been walking along the sand of the garden, appearing against the dark
background of myrtles and cypresses like three white statues. Lygia held
little Aulus by the hand. After they had walked a while they sat on a
bench near the fish-pond, which occupied the middle of the garden. After
a time Aulus sprang up to frighten the fish in the transparent water,
but Vinicius continued the conversation begun during the walk.

"Yes," said he, in a low, quivering voice, scarcely audible; "barely had
I cast aside the pretexta, when I was sent to the legions in Asia. I
had not become acquainted with the city, nor with life, nor with love.
I know a small bit of Anacreon by heart, and Horace; but I cannot like
Petronius quote verses, when reason is dumb from admiration and unable
to find its own words. While a youth I went to school to Musonius,
who told me that happiness consists in wishing what the gods wish, and
therefore depends on our will. I think, however, that it is something
else,--something greater and more precious, which depends not on
the will, for love only can give it. The gods themselves seek that
happiness; hence I too, O Lygia, who have not known love thus
far, follow in their footsteps. I also seek her who would give me
happiness--"

He was silent--and for a time there was nothing to be heard save the
light plash of the water into which little Aulus was throwing pebbles
to frighten the fish; but after a while Vinicius began again in a voice
still softer and lower,--"But thou knowest of Vespasian's son Titus?
They say that he had scarcely ceased to be a youth when he s