“Delicious!” echoed Aurelius, putting his face close to the flowers. “And look at this strange bird! How naturally it sits with its wings spread out--exactly as if it were alive.” “It is a parrot from the banks of the Indus.” “Or a phoenix[234]....” “A phoenix? I thought that story of Tacitus’ was a mere fable.” “Nay, not altogether. The marvellous bird, which burns its father or itself and then rises from its ashes in renewed youth, is no doubt a myth. But does not Pliny tell us of a real phoenix, which builds its nest at the sources of the Nile and shines like pure gold?” “What, seriously?” and she gently stroked the neck of the stuffed bird with her finger. “How soft it feels!” she said. “Like crape from Cos,”[235] said Aurelius, doing the same. His hand touched hers, and Claudia colored. She hastily stooped over a book lying close by--the “Thebais” of Statius--and read the title, written in gold on the outside of the roll. “A capital work,” said the Batavian, “I read it some time since in Trajectum.” “And to me, a Roman, it remains unknown.” “If you only desire it, I will go to-morrow morning to the bookseller in the Argiletum and bring you the best copy I can find.” “Oh! you are too kind!” replied Claudia. Then there was a pause, while Aurelius examined with the greatest interest the quality of some flaxen cloth from Cordova. At last he began hesitatingly: “If you will not think it too bold, allow me to propose....” “Speak on,” said Claudia, again bending over the “Thebais.” “I should be only too happy, if I might be allowed to read this masterpiece of Statius aloud to you. Without wishing to boast, I have had a good deal of practice in reading and declamation, and,--as you know, epic[236] poetry was originally intended for recitation.” “Of course; it is for that very reason called epic. I may own too, that there is nothing I like better than to hear good reading. Quintus reads very well, but he rarely has time or is in the humor.” “You will allow me then?” “I beg you to be so good.” “And when?” “That we will settle presently; just now, I see, they are going to table.” “Where have you hidden yourselves?” cried Lucilia flying into the hall as lightly as a deer. “I have been seeking you everywhere. Come, make haste; I am desperately hungry.” “She is hungry!” thought Claudia with a glance up to heaven. “I hardly know whether to envy her or to pity her!” FOOTNOTES: [207] ORBILIUS. The well-known schoolmaster, nicknamed by his pupils _plagosus_, (delighting in blows) to whom Horace went. (Suet. _Gramm._ 9.)