Standing at the door of Caesar, he
wondered whether he were nearing the end of all pleasure or the gate of
paradise. A plate of polished brass hung on its lintel, bearing in
large letters the word Salve. A slave opened the door and took his
pallium. Julia, that wayward daughter of Augustus, now three times
married but yet beautiful, met him in the inner hall, and together they
walked to the banquet-room. There the emperor, limping slightly, came
to meet Vergilius, and there, also, were the guests, seven in number:
Appius and his mother, the Lady Lucia; Terentia, wife of the late
Maecenas; Manius, an assessor in Judea; Hortensius, legate of Spain;
Antipater, son of Herod the Great; and Aulus Valerius Maro, the senator.
"It enters my thought to say to you," said the emperor, aside, as he
put his hand upon the shoulder of Vergilius, "keep the number one in
your mind, so that by-and-by you can tell me what you make of it."
Slaves had covered the table with fish and fowl in dishes of unwrought
silver. The guests reclined upon three great divans set around as many
sides of the table.
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