Lycoris did in fact make a few sarcastic remarks on the piece and the performers; but from that she went off into harmless chat of such delightful gaiety and sweetness, that Parthenius could not weary of listening to her melodious voice or of gazing at her round and snow-white shoulders. Never before had she seemed to him so perfectly enchanting; her lips smiled promise and her eyes flashed passion. Parthenius--a finished connoisseur in all the tricks and graces of the stage of the time--never suspected that this lavish display of her charms and fascinating wiles was a branch of the art; that Lycoris was acting a comedy, and that Stephanus was the manager of the drama. Stephanus himself, no doubt, was but a puppet in the hands of this witch, whose ambition aimed at the highest mark that ever dazzled the fancy of a Roman--at the sceptre of the world. Stephanus himself was one of the guests, and with him all was _couleur de rose_. While Lycoris was devoting herself to entangling the chamberlain, Stephanus was exchanging a few polite phrases with the adjutant. “Listen,” said Clodianus in a low voice, as Stephanus turned to leave him; “I wish to warn you--Cneius Afranius is on the list of the proscribed, but this in no way prevents Caesar from taking the opportunity you know of....” “What!” “Gently--we are watched. Will you come to see me in the course of the week? I will let you know the day and hour.--Good; now enjoy yourself, and of all things trouble yourself last about me--take no notice of me.” New, and still new surprises, had been provided to entertain the company. A whole troupe of very slightly-attired dancing-girls from Gades, with butterfly-wings and floating hair, crowded into the lower end of the hall, and began their mazy dance. When this was ended, a shower of rose-scented spray,[84] that fell from above like a fine mist, cooled the revellers deliciously; and finally soft music invited the company out into the pleasure-grounds, where a brilliant display of fireworks turned night into day. Through all these entertainments, the _blasé_ adjutant made a great show of enthusiastic enjoyment. He laughed immoderately, he shouted, he even sang, and praised their liberal and amiable host in a stirring speech--their host, who, in the midst of his pressing cares and unresting exertions, could still find time to make a study of amusing and delighting his friends. He devoted himself to winning the good graces of a young Greek girl, who had lately come to Rome from the island of Cypris. He affected a fervent accent, as he called her Cypria in person; swore by the sanctuary of Paphos[85] that a smile from the lovely Myrrhina would outweigh for him all the treasures of India, and quoted the famous line of Catullus:[86] “Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love.” “On my word, that Clodianus is a true son of Epicurus, as he represents himself in his book!” exclaimed a client of the house, who had modestly held aloof.