ith deliberate steps toward the rostra to
hear orators of the day, or tell the latest news to one another. As the
heat increased, crowds of idlers betook themselves to the porticos of
the temples, from under which flew from moment to moment, with great
rustle of wings, flocks of doves, whose white feathers glistened in the
sunlight and in the blue of the sky.

From excess of light and the influence of bustle, heat, and great
weariness, the eyes of Vinicius began to close. The monotonous calls
of boys playing mora, and the measured tread of soldiers, lulled him
to sleep. He raised his head still a number of times, and took in the
prison with his eyes; then he leaned against a Stone, sighed like a
child drowsy after long weeping, and dropped asleep.

Soon dreams came. It seemed to him that he was carrying Lygia in his
arms at night through a strange vineyard. Before him was Pomponia
Graecina lighting the way with a lamp. A voice, as it were of Petronius
called from afar to him, "Turn back!" but he did not mind the call, and
followed Pomponia till they reached a cottage; at the threshold of the
cottage stood Peter. He showed Peter Lygia, and said, "We are coming
from the arena, lord, but we cannot wake her; wake her thou." "Christ
himself will come to wake her," answered the Apostle.

Then the pictures began to change. Through the dream he saw Nero, and
Poppaea holding in her arms little Ruflus with bleeding head, which
Petronius was washing and he saw Tigellinus sprinkling ashes on tables
covered with costly dishes, and Vitelius devouring those dishes, while a
multitude of other Augustians were sitting at the feast. He himself was
resting near Lygia; but between the tables walked lions from out whose
yellow manes trickled blood. Lygia begged him to take her away, but so
terrible a weakness had seized him that he could not even move. Then
still greater disorder involved his visions, and finally all fell into
perfect darkness.

He was roused from deep sleep at last by the heat of the sun, and shouts
given forth right there around the place where he was sitting. Vinicius
rubbed his eyes. The street was swarming with people; but two runners,
wearing yellow tunics, pushed aside the throng with long staffs, crying
and making room for a splendid litter which was carried by four stalwart
Egyptian slaves.

In the litter sat a man in white robes, whose face was not easily
seen, for he held close to his eyes a roll of papyrus a