Vergilius | Page 6

farewells. Soon Appius and the young
lover walked side by side in the direction of the Palatine.

"And what have you been doing?" the former inquired, presently.
"Only dreaming."
"Of what?"
"Of love and happiness, and your sister."
"My sister?"
"Yes; I love her and wish to make her my wife."
"You have wealth and birth and wit and good prospects. I can see no
objection to you. But love--love is a thing for women to talk about."
"You are wrong, Appius. I can feel it in my soul. And, believe me, I am
no longer in Rome. I have found the gateway of a better world--like
that heaven they speak of in the Trastevere--full of peace and beauty."
"You have, indeed, been dreaming," said the other. "But, Vergilius,
there is one higher than I who shall choose her husband--the imperator.
Does he know you?"
"I have met him, of course, but do much fear he would not remember
me."
"We may know shortly. Every seventh day this year he has sat, like a
beggar, at his gate asking for alms. To-day we shall see him there."
"It is an odd whim."
"Hush! you know the people as well as I, and he must please them," the
other whispered. "He must conceal his power if he would live out his
time. I will present you, and perhaps he may be gracious--ay, may even
bid you to his banquet."
"A modest home," said young Vergilius.
Now they were nearing the palace of that mild and quiet gentleman

whose name and title--Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus Augustus--had
terrified the world; whose delicate hands flung the levin of his power to
the far boundaries of India and upper Gaul, to the distant shores of
Spain and Africa, and into deserts beyond the Euphrates.
"Many a poor patrician has better furniture and more servants and a
nobler palace," said Appius. "Rather plain wood, divans out of fashion,
rugs o'erworn; but you have seen them. He alone can afford that kind of
thing."
"He has a fondness for old things."
"But not for old women, my dear fellow."
"Indeed! And he is himself sixty-one."
"Hist--the imperator! There, by the gate yonder."
An erect figure of a man rather above medium height, in a coarse, gray
toga, stood by one of the white columns. Three Moorish children were
playing about his knees, and a senator was talking with him.
"My public services are familiar to you," said the senator, as the young
knights waited some twenty paces off. "A gift of two hundred thousand
denarii would be fitting, and, if you will permit me to say so, it would
delight the populace. Indeed, 'tis generally believed you have already
given me a large sum."
"But see that you do not believe it," blandly spake the strange emperor,
for albeit Rome was then a republic in name it was an empire in fact,
and Augustus, wielding the power of an emperor, refused the title.
Turning, he began to play with the children.
"Great and beloved father! I hope, at least, you will consider my
prayer."
"Good senator, I have considered. You ask for two hundred thousand
denarii. I can give you only the opportunity of earning them. As to

myself, I am poor. Look at me. Even my time belongs to the people.
and it is passing, my dear senator--it is passing."
The importunate man saw the subtle meaning in these words and went
his way.
The emperor sat down, a child upon each knee, as the young men
approached him. His head was bare and his fair, curly locks, growing
low upon his forehead, were now touched with gray. He looked up at
the two, his eyes blue, brilliant, piercing.
"My beloved Appius," said he, in a gentle tone, as he rose. "And
this--let me think--ah, it is Vergilius, the son of Varro."
"It is wonderful you should remember me," said Vergilius.
"Wonderful? No. I could tell your age, your misdeeds, your virtues, and
how often you failed to answer the roll-calls in Cappadocia. Well, I
dare say they were pretty girls. But I forget; I am to-day seeking alms,
my good children, for the poor of Rome. I am as ten thousand of the
hungry standing before you here and asking for bread. In their name I
shall receive, thankfully, what you may bestow."
Appius gave a handful of coins; Vergilius emptied his purse.
"'Tis not enough," said the latter. "Your words have touched me.
To-night I shall send five thousand denarii to your palace."
"Well given, noble youth! It is generous. I like it in you. Say that I may
have you to feast with me the first day before the ides--both of you. Say
that I may have you."
"We humbly wait your commands," said Vergilius, kissing