left wide, affording a glimpse of sunlit greenery and marble that
entirely changed the aspect of the narrow street. There were never less
than twenty tradesmen at the gate, imploring opportunity to show their
wares, which were in baskets and boxes, with slaves squatting beside
them. All Rome would know within the hour that Marcia had called on
Cornificia, and that Livius, the subprefect, had been mocked by Marcia
in public.

A small crowd gathered to watch the picturesque ceremony of reception--
Cornificia's house steward marshaling his staff, the brightly colored
costumes blending in the sunlight with the hues of flowers and the rich,
soft sheen of marble in the shadow of tall cypresses. The praetorians
had to form a cordon in front of the gate, and the street became choked
by the impeded traffic. Rome loved pageantry; it filled its eyes before
its belly, which was nine-tenths of the secret of the Caesar's power.

Within the house, however, there was almost a stoical calm--a sensation
of cloistered chastity produced by the restraint of ornament and the
subdued light on gloriously painted frescoes representing evening
benediction at a temple altar, a gathering of the Muses, sacrifice
before a shrine of Aesculapius and Jason's voyage to Colchis for the
Golden Fleece. The inner court, where Cornificia received her guests,
was like a sanctuary dedicated to the decencies, its one extravagance
the almost ostentatious restfulness, accentuated by the cooing of white
pigeons and the drip and splash of water in the fountain in the midst.

The dignity of drama was the essence of all Roman ceremony. The
formalities of greeting were observed as elegantly, and with far more
evident sincerity, in Cornificia's house than in Caesar's palace.
Cornificia, dressed in white and wearing very little jewelry, received