his hands loudly.
The echo had hardly died away when a young Greek slave entered, bearing a cup and a larger vessel of variegated glass. At a nod from his master he filled the cup with wine from the flagon and handed it to Cestus. But that individual hesitated and declined with some amount of confusion. Nothing but the direst need could have compelled him to make such a sacrifice.
‘I dare not drink with an empty stomach – I dare not indeed; ’tis rare wine, but allow me to go, or I shall drop from sheer want of food, most noble patron – indeed I shall!’
‘Then I will drink it for you, O man of tender stomach – you grow delicate,’ said Afer, with a derisive laugh; ‘fortune to us both!’
He drained it off, and the slave disappeared with the emptied cup.
‘If I want thee soon I can hear of thee at the same place, Cestus?’
‘As usual!’
‘I will keep you no longer. Go and feed on the best sausages you can find.’
‘Thanks, noble patron – you will find me ever ready and devoted.’
‘As I found thee this morning. Expect to hear of me very soon.’
With these words they emerged into the hall, and Cestus, drawing a long breath as he saw the way clear, went off at a pace which utterly belied his fainting state.
CHAPTER III
From the centre of his atrium Afer watched his well-furnished client retreat down the passage or lobby which led to the street, and marked, with a sour smile, the hasty stride, or almost leap, with which he vanished out of the sunlight which filled the porch. He stood a while with lips compressed, as, with a heart aching with wrath and mortification, he pondered on what had passed, on the sum of money he was lacking, and the hateful manner of its extortion. Then he turned and bade his slaves prepare to accompany him to the bath, which was an indispensable daily luxury to a Roman, and usually indulged in previous to the dinner hour.
Though not what Rome would call a wealthy man, T. Domitius Afer was of sufficient means, and from his connection with Fabricius, we may gather, of sufficient right of birth, to rank him among the equestrian order. His house, though small, was incontestably ruled by a master possessing the somewhat rare quality of exquisite taste. Harmony and symmetry reigned over all its appointments, ordered by the still more rare magic of the hand, which rounds off the formal chilliness of perfect chastity and regularity, by an artful and timely touch of graceful negligence.
There was no painting, statue, nor carved vase, nor couch, which might not, from its beauty and delicacy of design and finish, have had a place amid the household magnificence of Caesar. The combination of faculties which we call taste can perform wonders of delight with the meanest appliances. It requires inexhaustible resources, together with barbaric ignorance and coarseness, to shock the senses.
Afer remained some minutes pacing up and down the atrium of his house in deep thought. Then rousing himself he beheld his slaves awaiting his departure, with towels, unguents, and other necessaries. Without further delay, therefore, he left the house and proceeded to some private baths in the neighbourhood, where he enjoyed the company of some acquaintances, as well as the physical refreshment of what moderns call a Turkish bath. When he had leisurely gone through this delightful process; when he had finally been scraped with the strigil, rubbed dry and anointed from head to foot with a perfumed unguent, his youthful Greek attendant robed him with most elaborate care to suit his exacting taste, and he left the baths to step into a kind of sedan chair, which awaited him at the doors. He was borne thus, the short distance which intervened, to the house of one Apicius, on the Palatine, the most fashionable quarter in Rome, and finally to become almost the exclusive property of the emperors.
He alighted in a courtyard, whereon opened the magnificent entrance of a very large and imposing mansion. He went in. The lofty interior gleamed with rich marbles and gilding, and the air was laden with the scent of the perfumed fountain which twinkled and sparkled in the shaft of light, descending from the blue sunny sky through the square opening in the centre of the roof. Beyond was the vista of the entire length of the house, through its columns and peristyle to a portico and ornamental garden beyond. The sumptuous magnificence which met the eye at every turn, the priceless statuary, the frescoes on every wall, the rare, polished, carved wood and stone, the ivory, gilding, and tapestries, betokened the lavish extravagance of vast wealth. Crossing the spotless floor of marble, Afer was ushered into a reception room of the same rich character, where lounged or stood some half dozen guests engaged in conversation. Our knight’s attire, though of irreproachable taste and fashion, was modest compared with the superlative richness displayed by some of those he now rubbed against.
Charinus was a dandy of the first water, whose glorious garments, oppressive perfumes, smooth, well-tended, effeminately handsome face and languid hauteur, at once betrayed his disposition and ambition. Flaccus was a dandy, whose still youthful and ambitious mind animated a physical organisation long since bereft of vigour and beauty. Art did its best to disguise the ruthless blight of time, and age put a good face on its impotence, whilst it was being racked with follies and excesses which belonged to its grandchildren. So the withered old trunk stuck itself over with green boughs, seeking to hide its sapless rottenness, but succeeding only in rousing the laughter of men.
In the puffy face, and uncertain wavering eyes of Pansa, together with his nervous, trembling fingers, could be seen the demon of drunkenness; whilst his seat apart, and his sullen, dejected, downcast looks, marked a nightmare depression of spirits, during a brief separation from the wine cup.
Torquatus, unlike Flaccus, retained no foolish vanity in his advanced years, and his simple attire bore a strong contrast to the rest. Curiosity might be awakened as to the reason why he was included in the company present, for peevish, snappish acidity was plain as written symbols in his prying, sharp, small eyes, in his hard, withered, wrinkled face, and thin, sourly down-drawn lips. To the host, in the middle of these, Afer proceeded to pay his respects. Unheedful, unanswering to the chatter around his chair, the lord of the house sat absorbed in his reflections. He leant his head first on one hand and then on the other, shifting continuously and restlessly, as if a prey to uneasy thoughts. His face was pale, and his brows slightly contracted. Ever and anon, when his attention was desired to hear something of interest, he gave a nod, or glimmering smile, rather weary and ghastly than otherwise. His dress was the envy even of the dandies, his guests; for his ‘synthesis,’ or loose upper garment, which all wore, as more convenient for table than the toga, was made of silk – a fabric, at that time, in Rome, of such extravagant cost, as to be forbidden by imperial edict only a few years before the date of this story. The appearance of Afer before him roused him from his reverie.
‘Welcome, my friend,’ said he, extending his hand, and shaking himself, as if to clear away all thoughts that interfered with his duties as host; ‘welcome to my poor house!’
‘I trust you marked the poverty as you came through,’ rasped the voice of Torquatus, the sour, ever on the watch to vent a sneer.
‘I came hastily to greet Apicius, our generous host,’ returned Afer, as he exchanged courtesies with the smiling guests, all of whom he knew.
‘And faster still to eat his dinner,’ added the old man.
‘Ho! ho! Torquatus, I see you are in your best humour,’ cried Apicius, joining in the laugh, with more vivacity and briskness in his appearance.
‘Who arrived first to his appointment, Apicius?’ inquired Afer.
‘When my slave called me to the room, I found Torquatus here alone to greet me,’ replied the host.
‘Then has Torquatus the best right to the best part of your dinner, noble host, since his eagerness to eat it outstripped us all. Hungry Torquatus!’
Loud laughter from all drowned the snarling reply of the old man, but his scowling eyes spoke volumes.
‘Thou hast it fairly,’ said Apicius, when the merriment ceased; ‘but don’t be ill-humoured, Torquatus – it so ill becomes thee.’
The juvenile mirth of Flaccus shook his sides at this, and dislocated some of the enamel