statues of Aulus's ancestors. Everywhere calm plenty was evident,
remote from excess, but noble and self-trusting.

Petronius, who lived with incomparably greater show and elegance, could
find nothing which offended his taste; and had just turned to Vinicius
with that remark, when a slave, the velarius, pushed aside the curtain
separating the atrium from the tablinum, and in the depth of the
building appeared Aulus Plautius approaching hurriedly.

He was a man nearing the evening of life, with a head whitened by hoar
frost, but fresh, with an energetic face, a trifle too short, but still
somewhat eagle-like. This time there was expressed on it a certain
astonishment, and even alarm, because of the unexpected arrival of
Nero's friend, companion, and suggester.

Petronius was too much a man of the world and too quick not to notice
this; hence, after the first greetings, he announced with all the
eloquence and ease at his command that he had come to give thanks for
the care which his sister's son had found in that house, and that
gratitude alone was the cause of the visit, to which, moreover, he was
emboldened by his old acquaintance with Aulus.

Aulus assured him that he was a welcome guest; and as to gratitude, he
declared that he had that feeling himself, though surely Petronius did
not divine the cause of it.

In fact, Petronius did not divine it. In vain did he raise his hazel
eyes, endeavoring to remember the least service rendered to Aulus or to
any one. He recalled none, unless it might be that which he intended to
show Vinicius. Some such thing, it is true, might have happened