In fact, Poppæa came soon. Hitherto she had ruled Nero as if he had
been her subject, but she knew that when his vanity as a singer, a
charioteer, or a poet was involved, there was danger in provoking it.
She came in therefore, beautiful as a divinity, arrayed, like Nero, in
robes of amethyst color, and wearing a necklace of immense pearls,
stolen on a time from Massinissa; she was golden-haired, sweet, and
though divorced from two husbands she had the face and the look of a
virgin.

She was greeted with shouts, and the appellation "Divine Augusta."
Lygia had never seen any one so beautiful, and she could not believe her
own eyes, for she knew that Poppæa Sabina was one of the vilest women on
earth. She knew from Pomponia that she had brought Cæsar to murder his
mother and his wife; she knew her from accounts given by Aulus's guests
and the servants; she had heard that statues to her had been thrown down
at night in the city; she had heard of inscriptions, the writers of
which had been condemned to severest punishment, but which still
appeared on the city walls every morning. Yet at sight of the notorious
Poppæa, considered by the confessors of Christ as crime and evil
incarnate, it seemed to her that angels or spirits of heaven might look
like her. She was unable simply to take her eyes from Poppæa; and from
her lips was wrested involuntarily the question,--"Ah, Marcus, can it
be possible?"

But he, roused by wine, and as it were impatient that so many things had
scattered her attention, and taken her from him and his words, said,--
"Yes, she is beautiful, but thou art a hundred times more beautiful.
Thou dost not know thyself, or thou wouldst be in love with thyself, as
Narcissus was; she bathes in asses' milk, but Venus bathed thee in her
own milk. Thou dost not know thyself, Ocelle mi! Look not at her.