Those older men had long held the floor, and their hostess, seeking to rally the young knights, challenged their skill in courtly compliment.
"O men, who have forgotten the love of women these days, look at her!" So spoke the Lady Lucia--she that was widow of the Praefect Publius, who fell with half his cohort in the desert wars.
She had risen from a chair of ebony enriched by cunning Etruscan art--four mounted knights charging across its heavy back in armor of wrought gold.

She stopped, facing the company, between two columns of white marble beautifully sculptured.

Upon each a vine rose, limberly and with soft leaves in the stone, from base to capital.

Her daughter stood in the midst of a group of maids who were dressing her hair.
"Arria, will you come to me ?" said the Lady Lucia.
The girl came quickly--a dainty creature of sixteen, her dark hair waving, under jewelled fillets, to a knot behind.

From below the knot a row of curls fell upon the folds of her outer tunic.