Page:The Song of the Sirens.djvu/247



HE inner waiting-room of the imperial palace was just then at its fullest. Togaed senators bulged in creaking armchairs; couriers, gaudy in embroidered habiliments, lounged everywhere. Military-men, fresh from the frontier and uncomfortable in parade-uniforms, fidgeted impatiently. Some of Rome's richest land-owners, ship-owners, or money lenders, fuming hot in their oppressive state-togas, in low voices. Women were many too, and the rustle of skirts and the flutter of fans pervaded the apartment. There was much moving about, changing of seats and rambling from group to group. The buzz of talk was continuous, but mostly under breath. For an atmosphere of uneasiness pervaded the place. Elated faces, eager for an interview, were few. A rumor had been circulated that the Emperor was out of sorts. An adept might have inferred as much from the demeanor of