the company the
benefit of as great a variety of "confections" as is afforded by a
modern star actress in the theatre. If the days are long and it is
suitable weather, he may perhaps dine in the garden at the back of the
peristyle. Otherwise in the dining-room the three couches mentioned in
a previous chapter (FIG. 48) are arranged along three sides of a
rectangle. Their metal and ivory work gleams brightly, and they are
resplendent with their embroidered cushions. In the middle of the
enclosed space shines the polished table, whether square or round. The
sideboard is laden with costly plate; the lamps are, or soon will be,
alight upon their tall shafts or hanging from their chains; the stand
for the carver is awaiting its load. The dining-room steward and his
subordinates are all in readiness.

At the right time the guests arrive, endeavouring to show neither
undue eagerness by being too early nor rudeness by being too late.
Each brings his own footman to take off his shoes and to stand behind
him, in case he may be needed, though not to wait at table, for this
service belongs to the slaves of the house. After they have been
received by the host, the "name-caller" leads them to their places,
according to such order of precedence as Silius chooses to
pre-arrange. The regular number of guests for the three couches will
be nine--the number of the Muses--or three to each couch. To squeeze
in more was regarded as bad form. If the crescent couch and the large
round table are to be used the number may be either six or seven. The
position of Silius himself as host will be regularly that marked H on
the plan, while the position of honour--occupied by a consul if one be
present--will be that marked C.

Each guest throws himself as easily as possible into a reclining
attitude, resting his left elbow on the cushion provided for the
purpose. He has brought his own napkin, marked with a purple stripe if
he is a senator, and this he tucks, in a manner still sufficiently
familiar on the continent of Europe, into upper part of his attire.
Bread is cut and ready, but there are no knives and forks, although
there is a spoon of dessert size and also one with a smaller bowl and
a point at the other end of the handle for the purpose of picking out
the luscious snail or the succulent shell-fish. The dainty use of
fingers well inured to heat was necessarily a point of Roman domestic
training.

There have been many--perhaps too many--descr