Volume I Part 34 (1/2)
”Never,” cried Cethegus, ”did Venus descend more beautifully upon Paphos!”
Kallistratos clapped his hands.
To the sound of lyre and flute the centre wall of the room, directly opposite the triclinium, parted; four short-robed female dancers, chosen for their beauty, in Persian costume, that is, dressed in transparent rose-coloured gauze, sprang, clas.h.i.+ng their cymbals, from behind a bush of blooming oleander.
Behind them came a large carriage in the form of a fan-shaped sh.e.l.l, with golden wheels, pushed by eight young female slaves. Four girls, playing on the flute, and dressed in Lydian garments--purple and white with gold-embroidered mantles--walked before, and upon the seat of the carriage rested, in a half-lying position, and covered with roses, Aphrodite herself; a blooming girl of enchanting, voluptuous beauty, whose almost only garment was an imitation of Aphrodite's girdle of the Graces.
”Ha, by Eros and Anteros!” cried Ma.s.surius, and sprang down from the triclinium with an unsteady step amidst the group.
”Let us draw lots for the girls,” said Piso; ”I have new dice made from the bones of the gazelle. Let us inaugurate them.”
”Let our festal King decide,” proposed Marcus.
”No, freedom! freedom at least in love!” cried Ma.s.surius, and roughly caught the G.o.ddess by the arm; ”and music. Hey there! Music!”
”Music!” ordered Kallistratos.
But before the cymbal-players could begin, the entrance-doors were hastily thrown open, and pus.h.i.+ng the slaves who tried to stop him aside, Scaevola rushed in. He was deadly pale.
”You here! I really find you here, Cethegus! at this moment!” he cried.
”What's the matter?” asked the Prefect, quietly taking the wreath of roses off his head.
”What's the matter!” repeated Scaevola. ”The fatherland trembles between Scylla and Charybdis! The Gothic Dukes, Thulun, Ibba, and Pitza----”
”Well?” asked Lucius Licinius.
”Are murdered!”
”Triumph!” shouted the young Roman, and let loose the dancer whom he held in his arms.
”A fine triumph!” said the jurist angrily. ”When the news reached Ravenna, the mob accused the Queen; they stormed the palace--but Amalaswintha had escaped.”
”Whither?” asked Cethegus, starting up.
”Whither! Upon a Grecian s.h.i.+p--to Byzantium.”
Cethegus frowned and silently set down his cup.
”But the worst is that the Goths mean to dethrone her, and choose a King.”
”A King?” said Cethegus. ”Well, I will call the Senate together. The Romans, too, shall choose.”
”Whom? what shall we choose?” asked Scaevola.
But Cethegus was not obliged to answer.
Before he could speak Lucius shouted: