d, since the spectacle had ended quite
differently from what he had planned. At first he did not wish even to
look at Petronius; but the latter, without losing cool blood, approached
him, with all the freedom of the "arbiter elegantiarum," and said,--

"Dost thou know, divinity, what occurs to me? Write a poem on the maiden
who, at command of the lord of the world, was freed from the horns of
the wild bull and given to her lover. The Greeks are sensitive, and I am
sure that the poem will enchant them."

This thought pleased Nero in spite of all his irritation, and it pleased
him doubly, first, as a subject for a poem, and second, because in it
he could glorify himself as the magnanimous lord of the earth; hence he
looked for a time at Petronius, and then said,--

"Yes! perhaps thou art right. But does it become me to celebrate my own
goodness?"

"There is no need to give names. In Rome all will know who is meant, and
from Rome reports go through the whole world."

"But art thou sure that this will please the people in Achaea?"

"By Poilux, it will!" said Petronius.

And he went away satisfied, for he felt certain that Nero, whose whole
life was an arrangement of reality to literary plans, would not spoil
the subject, and by this alone he would tie the hands of Tigellinus.
This, however, did not change his plan of sending Vinicius out of Rome
as soon as Lygia's health should permit. So when he saw him next day, he
said,--

"Take her to Sicily. As things have happened, on Caesar's part thou art
threatened by nothing; but Tigellinus is ready to use even poison,--if
not out of hatred to you both, out of hatred to me."

Vinicius smiled at him, and said: "She was on the horns of the wild
bull; still Christ saved her."

"Then honor Him with a hecatomb," replied Petronius, with an accent of
impatience, "but do not beg Him to save her a second time. Dost remember
how Eolus received Ulysses when he returned to ask a second time for
favoring winds? Deities do not like to repeat themselves."

"When her health returns, I will take her to Pomponia Graecina," said
Vinicius.

"And thou wilt do that all the better since Pomponia is ill; Antistius,
a relative of Aulus, told me so. Meanwhile things will happen here
to make people forget thee, and in these times the forgotten are the
happiest. May Fortune be thy sun in winter, and thy shade in summer."

Then he left Vinicius to his happiness, but went himself to inquire of