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 interest
about his health.

Petronius opened his eyes again.

Health!--No. He did not feel well. He had not gone so far yet, it is
true, as young Sissena, who had lost sensation to such a degree that
when he was brought to the bath in the morning he inquired, "Am I
sitting?" But he was not well. Vinicius had just committed him to the
care of Asklepios and Kypris. But he, Petronius, did not believe in
Asklepios. It was not known even whose son that Asklepios was, the son
of Arsinoe or Koronis; and if the mother was doubtful, what was to be
said of the father? Who, in that time, could be sure who his own father
was?

Hereupon Petronius began to laugh; then he continued,--"Two years ago,
it is true, I sent to Epidaurus three dozen live blackbirds and a goblet
of gold; but dost thou know why? I said to myself, 'Whether this helps
or not, it will do me no harm.' Though people make offerings to the gods
yet, I believe that all think as I do,--all, with the exception,
perhaps, of muledrivers hired at the Porta Capena by travellers.
Besides Asklepios, I have had dealings with sons of Asklepios. When I
was troubled a little last year in the bladder, they performed an
incubation for me. I saw that they were tricksters, but I said to
myself: 'What harm! The world stands on deceit, and life is an
illusion. The soul is an illusion too. But one must have reason enough
to distinguish pleasant from painful illusions.' I shall give command to
burn in my hypocaustum, cedar-wood sprinkled with ambergris, for during