CHAPTER 2.
Those days it was near twelve o'clock by the great dial of history.
One day, about mid-afternoon, the old capital lay glowing in the sunlight.

Its hills were white with marble and green with gardens, and traced and spotted and flecked with gold; its thoroughfares were bright with color--white, purple, yellow, scarlet--like a field of roses and amarantus.
The fashionable day had begun; knight and lady were now making and receiving visits.
Five litters and some forty slaves, who bore and followed them, were waiting in the court of the palace of the Lady Lucia.

Beyond the walls of white marble a noble company was gathered that summer day.

There were the hostess and her daughter; three young noblemen, the purple stripes on each angusticlave telling of knightly rank; a Jewish prince in purple and gold; an old philosopher, and a poet who had been reading love lines.

It was the age of pagan chivalry, and one might imperil his future with poor wit or a faulty epigram.