As I was to have no reception that morning I lay abed a while longer, at Agathemer's earnest solicitation. Little good it did me. In my mind, behind my shut eyelids, I rehearsed the unfortunate occurrences on the road, I groped back to their causes. I could see that Tanno's jesting replies to the Satronians he had met on the road had given them the idea that Xantha was being conveyed, in a shut litter, to Villa Vedia: similarly his quizzical words to the Vedians he had met had given them a similar notion that Greia was being smuggled behind slid panels and drawn curtains, to Villa Satronia. The men of each side had spread their conjecture among their clansmen. Each side had made the forecast that the abductors would try to carry off their prize to Rome: each had calculated that the other side would try to fool them, that they would not travel the obvious road, but try to escape by boldly following the route least to be expected. So the Vedians inferred that the Satronians, instead of taking their direct road to the Salarian Highway, would expect an ambush along it and would try to sneak through Vediamnum. Therefore they were in ambush at Vediamnum. Similarly and for similar reasons the Satronians were in ambush below their road entrance, calculating that the Vedians would pass that way. I had blundered on both ambushes in succession. I lay, eyes closed, raging at my lack of foresight and at my hideous bad luck. When Agathemer knew that I could not be kept longer abed he brought me a cup of delicious hot mulled wine and a roll almost as well-flavored as Ofatulena's, for my town cook was fit for a senator's kitchen. I lay still a while longer. When I stood up I felt dizzy and faint, but I was resolved and stubborn. Besides, I craved fresh air and thought that an airing would revive me. In fact, once out of doors and in my litter, with all Uncle's sliding panels open, I felt very much better. I told my bearers to take me to the Vedian mansion. There the doorkeeper, indeed, stared, and the footmen nudged each other, but I was received civilly and was shown into the atrium, which I found crowded with the clan clients and with gentlemen like myself. The atrium of the Vedian mansion had kept, by family tradition, a sort of affectation of old-fashioned plainness. It was indeed lined with expensive marbles, but it was far soberer in coloring, far simpler in every detail, than most atriums of similar houses. Instead of striving for an effect of opulent gorgeousness by every device of material, color and decoration, the heads of the Vedian family had expressed, in their atrium, their cult of primitive simplicity. Compared with others of the houses of senators their atrium appeared bare and bleak. His guests gazed at me curiously as I advanced to greet our host.