Some kind of breeze from beyond
the earth blows in on me; I behold, as in a mist, certain immeasurable
greatnesses, but calm and bright as sunshine. The whole Spheros plays
around me; and I declare to thee" (here Nero's voice quivered with
genuine wonder) "that I, Caesar and god, feel at such times as diminutive
as dust. Wilt thou believe this?"

"I will. Only great artists have power to feel small in the presence of
art."

"This is a night of sincerity; hence I open my soul to thee as to a
friend, and I will say more: dost thou consider that I am blind or
deprived of reason? Dost thou think that I am ignorant of this,
that people in Rome write insults on the walls against me, call me a
matricide, a wife-murderer, hold me a monster and a tyrant, because
Tigellinus obtained a few sentences of death against my enemies? Yes, my
dear, they hold me a monster, and I know it. They have talked cruelty on
me to that degree that at times I put the question to myself, 'Am I not
cruel?' But they do not understand this, that a man's deeds may be cruel
at times while he himself is not cruel. Ah, no one will believe, and
perhaps even thou, my dear, wilt not believe, that at moments when music
caresses my soul I feel as kind as a child in the cradle. I swear by
those stars which shine above us, that I speak the pure truth to thee.
People do not know how much goodness lies in this heart, and what
treasures I see in it when music opens the door to them."

Petronius, who had not the least doubt that Nero was speaking sincerely
at that moment, and that music might bring out various more noble
inclinations of his soul, which were overwhelmed by mountains of
egotism, profligacy, and crime, said,--"Men should know thee as nearly
as I do; Rome has never been able to appreciate thee."

Caesar leaned more heavily on Vinicius's arm, as if he were bending under
the weight of injustice, and answered,--

"Tigellinus has told me that in the Senate they whisper into one
another's ears that Diodorus and Terpnos play on the cithara better than
I. They refuse me even that! But tell me, thou who art truthful always,
do they play better, or as well?"

"By no means. Thy touch is finer, and has greater power. In thee the
artist is evident, in them the expert. The man who hears their music
first understands better what thou art."

"If that be true, let them live. They will never imagine what a service
thou hast rendered them in this moment. For that m