hou art a patrician, and the son of a consul; but everything which has
happened astonishes me in the highest degree,--that cemetery where thou
wert among the Christians, they, their treatment of thee, the subsequent
flight of Lygia; finally, that peculiar sadness and disquiet which
breathes from thy short letter. Explain, for there are many points
which I cannot understand; and if thou wish the truth, I will tell thee
plainly, that I understand neither the Christians nor thee nor Lygia.
Wonder not that I, who care for few things on earth except my own
person, inquire of thee so eagerly. I have contributed to all this
affair of thine; hence it is my affair so far. Write soon, for I cannot
foresee surely when we may meet. In Bronzebeard's head plans change, as
winds do in autumn. At present, while tarrying in Beneventum, he has the
wish to go straightway to Greece, without returning to Rome. Tigellinus,
however, advises him to visit the city even for a time, since the
people, yearning overmuch for his person (read 'for games and bread')
may revolt. So I cannot tell how it will be. Should Achaea overbalance,
we may want to see Egypt. I should insist with all my might on thy
coming, for I think that in thy state of mind travelling and our
amusements would be a medicine, but thou mightst not find us. Consider,
then, whether in that case repose in thy Sicilian estates would not
be preferable to remaining in Rome. Write me minutely of thyself, and
farewell. I add no wish this time, except health; for, by Pollux! I know
not what to wish thee."

Vinicius, on receiving this letter, felt at first no desire to reply.
He had a kind of feeling that it was not worth while to reply, that an
answer would benefit no one in any way, that it would explain nothing.
Discontent, and a feeling of the vanity of life, possessed him. He
thought, moreover, that Petronius would not comprehend him in any case,
and that something had happened which would remove them from each other.
He could not come to an agreement with himself, even. When he returned
from the Trans-Tiber to his splendid "insula," he was exhausted, and
found for the first days a certain satisfaction in rest and in the
comfort and abundance about him. That satisfaction lasted but a short
time, however. He felt soon that he was living in vanity; that all which
so far had formed the interest of his life either had ceased to exist
for him or had shrunk to proportions barely perceptible.