ed finally. In a week the child died. Mourning fell
upon the court and Rome. Caesar, who at the birth of the infant was wild
with delight, was wild now from despair, and, confining himself in
his apartments, refused food for two days; and though the palace was
swarming with senators and Augustians, who hastened with marks of sorrow
and sympathy, he denied audience to every one. The senate assembled in
an extraordinary session, at which the dead child was pronounced divine.
It was decided to rear to her a temple and appoint a special priest to
her service. New sacrifices were offered in other temples in honor of
the deceased; statues of her were cast from precious metals; and her
funeral was one immense solemnity, during which the people wondered at
the unrestrained marks of grief which Caesar exhibited; they wept
with him, stretched out their hands for gifts, and above all amused
themselves with the unparalleled spectacle.

That death alarmed Petronius. All knew in Rome that Poppaea ascribed it
to enchantment. The physicians, who were thus enabled to explain the
vanity of their efforts, supported her; the priests, whose sacrifices
proved powerless, did the same, as well as the sorcerers, who were
trembling for their lives, and also the people. Petronius was glad now
that Lygia had fled; for he wished no evil to Aulus and Pomponia, and he
wished good to himself and Vinicius; therefore when the cypress, set out
before the Palatine as a sign of mourning, was removed, he went to the
reception appointed for the senators and Augustians to learn how far
Nero had lent ear to reports of spells, and to neutralize results which
might come from his belief.

Knowing Nero, he thought, too, that though he did not believe in charms,
he would feign belief, so as to magnify his own suffering, and take
vengeance on some one, finally, to escape the suspicion that the gods
had begun to punish him for crimes. Petronius did not think that Caesar
could love really and deeply even his own child; though he loved her
passionately, he felt certain, however, that he would exaggerate his
suffering. He was not mistaken. Nero listened, with stony face and fixed
eyes, to the consolation offered by knights and senators. It was evident
that, even if he suffered, he was thinking of this: What impression
would his suffering make upon others? He was posing as a Niobe, and
giving an exhibition of parental sorrow, as an actor would give it on
the stage. He h