In the vestibule musters a squad of flute players and torch bearers. As the music strikes up, good form requires Statilia to cast herself into her mother’s arms and weep and scream violently. Good form equally requires Pollio to tear her thence with playful violence--“a remembrance,” people say, “of the Romans’ rape of the Sabines.” Statilia promptly ceases struggling and submits cheerfully to being led through the door. The wedding procession is an indispensable part of the ceremony. Probably if Pollio lives in another city, some family friend will now loan his residence for “leading home the bride.” As it is, the bridegroom fortunately possesses a handsome house about a mile distant on the Quirinal. For all her wealth Statilia has to walk the entire way. First go the flute players bringing the crowds out of all the insulæ when they cross the Subura; then long files of the younger guests of both sexes, talking vivaciously, and flourishing white-thorn torches; then the camillus and a youthful assistant bearing ostentatiously the bride’s spindle and distaff, token of the household labors presumably ahead of her; then the bride herself, led on either hand by a boy both of whose parents are living, while a third of like good fortune carries a special torch of honor. Pollio himself walks just behind the bride, and is kept busy tossing walnuts to all the children in the crowd in token of the fact that he has now (for the second time) put away childish things. After them, with more flambeaux and in merry disorder, taking pains to exhibit their fine robes and jewels, follow all the older relatives and friends of both parties. The torchlight, the music, the brave colors, and gems gleaming out of the darkness make the scene bewitching. No wonder all the gaping crowds join in the marriage shouts “Io Talasse!”[30] or in the oft-repeated “Felicitas!” =57. At the Bridegroom’s House.=--The guests and many of the spectators fail not also to raise the “Fescinne songs” proper for marriage processions; old folk songs very coarse, and interspersed with extremely broad quips and personalities. At last the house of Pollio is reached. It is a blaze of light from vestibule to garden, and all the _decuriæ_ (squads of ten) of slaves are mustered to greet their new _domina_. At the entrance Statilia stops to wind the door pillars with bits of wool, and to touch the door itself with oil and fat, the emblems of plenty. She is then promptly _lifted_ over the threshold to avoid an ill-omened stumble, and is immediately confronted by her husband who has slipped in before her and who now presents her with a cup of water and a glowing fire brand, token that she is entitled to the protection of his family Lares. Statilia accepts these and in clear voice repeats the very ancient and famous marriage formula, “Where thou art Gaius, I am Gaia” (_Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia_).