Quo Vadis | Page 4

themselves. Silence reigned for a time. Vinicius looked awhile
thoughtfully at a bronze faun which, bending over the arm of a nymph,
was seeking her lips eagerly with his lips.
"He is right," said the young man. "That is what is best in life."
"More or less! But besides this thou lovest war, for which I have no
liking, since under tents one's finger-nails break and cease to be rosy.
For that matter, every man has his preferences. Bronzebeard loves song,
especially his own; and old Scaurus his Corinthian vase, which stands
near his bed at night, and which he kisses when he cannot sleep. He has
kissed the edge off already. Tell me, dost thou not write verses?"
"No; I have never composed a single hexameter."
"And dost thou not play on the lute and sing?"
"No."
"And dost thou drive a chariot?"
"I tried once in Antioch, but unsuccessfully."

"Then I am at rest concerning thee. And to what party in the
hippodrome dost thou belong?"
"To the Greens."
"Now I am perfectly at rest, especially since thou hast a large property
indeed, though thou art not so rich as Pallas or Seneca. For seest thou,
with us at present it is well to write verses, to sing to a lute, to declaim,
and to compete in the Circus; but better, and especially safer, not to
write verses, not to play, not to sing, and not to compete in the Circus.
Best of all, is it to know how to admire when Bronzebeard admires.
Thou art a comely young man; hence Poppæa may fall in love with
thee. This is thy only peril. But no, she is too experienced; she cares for
something else. She has had enough of love with her two husbands;
with the third she has other views. Dost thou know that that stupid Otho
loves her yet to distraction? He walks on the cliffs of Spain, and sighs;
he has so lost his former habits, and so ceased to care for his person,
that three hours each day suffice him to dress his hair. Who could have
expected this of Otho?"
"I understand him," answered Vinicius; "but in his place I should have
done something else."
"What, namely?"
"I should have enrolled faithful legions of mountaineers of that country.
They are good soldiers,--those Iberians."
"Vinicius! Vinicius! I almost wish to tell thee that thou wouldst not
have been capable of that. And knowest why? Such things are done, but
they are not mentioned even conditionally. As to me, in his place, I
should have laughed at Poppæa, laughed at Bronzebeard, and formed
for myself legions, not of Iberian men, however, but Iberian women.
And what is more, I should have written epigrams which I should not
have read to any one,--not like that poor Rufinus."
"Thou wert to tell me his history."

"I will tell it in the unctorium."
But in the unctorium the attention of Vinicius was turned to other
objects; namely, to wonderful slave women who were waiting for the
bathers. Two of them, Africans, resembling noble statues of ebony,
began to anoint their bodies with delicate perfumes from Arabia; others,
Phrygians, skilled in hairdressing, held in their hands, which were
bending and flexible as serpents, combs and mirrors of polished steel;
two Grecian maidens from Kos, who were simply like deities, waited
as vestiplicæ, till the moment should come to put statuesque folds in
the togas of the lords.
"By the cloud-scattering Zeus!" said Marcus Vinicius, "what a choice
thou hast!"
"I prefer choice to numbers," answered Petronius. "My whole 'familia'
[household servants] in Rome does not exceed four hundred, and I
judge that for personal attendance only upstarts need a greater number
of people."
"More beautiful bodies even Bronzebeard does not possess," said
Vinicius, distending his nostrils.
"Thou art my relative," answered Petronius, with a certain friendly
indifference, "and I am neither so misanthropic as Barsus nor such a
pedant as Aulus Plautius."
When Vinicius heard this last name, he forgot the maidens from Kos
for a moment, and, raising his head vivaciously, inquired,--"Whence
did Aulus Plautius come to thy mind? Dost thou know that after I had
disjointed my arm outside the city, I passed a number of days in his
house? It happened that Plautius came up at the moment when the
accident happened, and, seeing that I was suffering greatly, he took me
to his house; there a slave of his, the physician Merion, restored me to
health. I wished to speak with thee touching this very matter."
"Why? Is it because thou hast fallen in love with Pomponia perchance?
In that case I pity thee; she is not young, and she is virtuous! I cannot

imagine a worse combination. Brr!"
"Not with Pomponia--eheu!" answered Vinicius.
"With whom, then?"
"If