se of the war had returned to the city.
Petronius had for him a certain weakness bordering on attachment, for
Marcus was beautiful and athletic, a young man who knew how to preserve
a certain aesthetic measure in his profligacy; this, Petronius prized
above everything.

"A greeting to Petronius," said the young man, entering the tepidarium
with a springy step. "May all the gods grant thee success, but
especially Asklepios and Kypris, for under their double protection
nothing evil can meet one."

"I greet thee in Rome, and may thy rest be sweet after war," replied
Petronius, extending his hand from between the folds of soft karbas
stuff in which he was wrapped. "What's to be heard in Armenia; or since
thou wert in Asia, didst thou not stumble into Bithynia?"

Petronius on a time had been proconsul in Bithynia, and, what is more,
he had governed with energy and justice. This was a marvellous contrast
in the character of a man noted for effeminacy and love of luxury; hence
he was fond of mentioning those times, as they were a proof of what he
had been, and of what he might have become had it pleased him.

"I happened to visit Heraklea," answered Vinicius. "Corbulo sent me
there with an order to assemble reinforcements."

"Ah, Heraklea! I knew at Heraklea a certain maiden from Colchis,
for whom I would have given all the divorced women of this city, not
excluding Poppaea. But these are old stories. Tell me now, rather, what
is to be heard from the Parthian boundary. It is true that they weary me
every Vologeses of them, and Tiridates and Tigranes,--those barbarians
who, as young Arulenus insists, walk on all fours at home, and pretend
to be human only when in our presence. But now people in Rome speak much
of them, if only for the reason that it is dangerous to speak of aught
else."

"The war is going badly, and but for Corbulo might be turned to defeat."

"Corbulo! by Bacchus! a real god of war, a genuine Mars, a great leader,
at the same time quick-tempered, honest, and dull. I love him, even for
this,--that Nero is afraid of him."

"Corbulo is not a dull man."

"Perhaps thou art right, but for that matter it is all one. Dulness,
as Pyrrho says, is in no way worse than wisdom, and differs from it in
nothing."

Vinicius began to talk of the war; but when Petronius closed his eyes
again, the young man, seeing his uncle's tired and somewhat emaciated
face, changed the conversation, and inquired with a certain int