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Updated: May 14, 2025
The genius of death was not less beautiful than the genius of sleep, and he also had wings at his shoulders. The litter stopped before the arbiter's door, which was opened that instant by the watchful keeper. "Has the noble Vinicius returned?" inquired Petronius. "Yes, lord, a moment ago," replied the slave. "He has not rescued her," thought Petronius.
The arbiter's words produced the usual deep impression on Nero; but Petronius was not deceived as to this, that what he had said was a desperate means which in a fortunate event might save the Christians, it is true, but might still more easily destroy himself. He had not hesitated, however, for it was a question at once of Vinicius whom he loved, and of hazard with which he amused himself.
Take Petronius Arbiter's 'novel' next, the Satyricon, if you be not over-delicate in taste, and glance at the daily journal of a dissolute wretch wandering from one scene of incredible vice to another. And so on, through the later writers; and from among the vast annals of the industrious Muratori pick out bits of Roman life at different periods, and try to piece them together.
"No, no!" cried Cæsar, "I will give command to open the gardens to them, and distribute wheat. Thanks to thee, Petronius, I will have games; and that song, which I sang to-day, I will sing publicly." Then he placed his hands on the arbiter's shoulder, was silent a moment, and starting up at last inquired, "Tell me sincerely, how did I seem to thee while I was singing?"
Petronius, who had not even thought that the young man could love and desire to such a degree, when he saw the tears of despair said to himself, with a certain astonishment, "O mighty Lady of Cyprus, thou alone art ruler of gods and men!" WHEN they alighted in front of the arbiter's house, the chief of the atrium answered them that of slaves sent to the gates none had returned yet.
He was a grand man to look at, not only his face but the height and build of him, and he was fresh in from sea. "John Snow and you, Mrs. Snow the Arbiter's to anchor in the stream, and her flag's to half-mast. And knowing that, maybe there's no need to say anything more." Mrs. Snow said nothing, Mary Snow said nothing, but I remember how from under John Snow's brows the deep eyes glowed out.
Mabel's roses returned in profusion, when, upon entering the arbiter's dread presence, she saw Frederic Chilton, standing on the opposite side of the table from that at which sat her brother at his ease, his white fingers still idly interlaced, his pale patrician face emotionless as that of the bust of Apollo upon the top of the bookcase behind him.
Other Augustians listened to this conversation with attention, so as to seize crumbs of the arbiter's opinions, and give them out later on as their own. "It seems to me that I have not lived up to this time," said Nero, "and that my birth will come only in Greece." "Thou wilt be born to new glory and immortality," answered Petronius.
He could discover nothing himself, and if the arbiter's idea had come to his own head he would beyond doubt have declared it the saving one; but with him the question was that Petronius might not be a second time the only man who in difficult moments could rescue all and every one. "Hear me, divinity," said he, "this advice is destructive!
For example, there was a well-known literary woman of New York, who had in some way incurred the arbiter's august disapproval. "She write stories of New York society!" he said. "Why, I have seen her myself, buying her Madeira at Park & Tilford's in a demijohn."
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