Poppaea innocently opened wide her dark gray eyes. I noticed later that their color changed according to her mood and the light.
“Do you think I’m so old and experienced after one childbirth that I cannot even be compared with my maidenly Artemis cousin Sabina?” she said, deliberately misunderstanding me. ‘We are the same age, Sabina and I.”
My head whirled as I looked into her eyes.
“No,” I protested. “I mean you’re the most modest and decent married woman I have seen in Rome, and I can only be amazed at your beauty, now I have seen you for the first time without your veil.”
“I have to wear a veil out in the sun because my skin is so delicate,” said Poppaea Sabina with a shy smile. “I envy your Sabina, who can stand as muscular and sunburned as Diana, cracking her whip in the heat of the arena.”
“She is not my Sabina, even if we are married according to the longer form,” I said bitterly. “She is the Sabina of the lion-tamers and Sabina of the lions, and her language becomes coarser and coarser every year.”
“Remember, we are related, she and I,” said Poppaea Sabina warningly. “Nevertheless, I’m not the only person in Rome to wonder why such a sensitive person as you chose Sabina of all people, when you could have had anyone else.”
I indicated my surroundings and implied that there were other reasons besides mutual liking for a marriage, and Flavia Sabina’s father was the Prefect of Rome and her uncle had earned a triumph. I do not know how it came about, but roused by Poppaea’s shy presence I began to talk about one thing and another, and it was not long before Poppaea shyly admitted that she was unhappy in her wretched marriage with the conceited Praetorian centurion.
“One asks for more in a man than a haughty mien, shining armor and red plumes,” she said. “I was an innocent child when I was given to him in marriage. I am not strong, as you see. My skin is so delicate that I have to bathe it every day with wheaten bread soaked in ass’s milk.”
But she was not quite so young and weak as she maintained, and I felt this as she unwittingly pressed one breast against my elbow. Her skin was so marvelously white that I had never seen anything like it before and could find no words to describe it. I mumbled the usual things about gold, ivory and Chinese porcelain, but I think my eyes bore witness to how enraptured I was by her young beauty.
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We could not talk for long, for I had to see to my many duties as son-in-law at my father-in-law’s banquet. But I fulfilled them absentmindedly and could think of nothing else but Poppaea’s deep gray eyes and shim-mering complexion. I stumbled, too, as I read out the ancient oaths to the guardian spirits of the house.
Finally my wife Sabina drew me to one side.
“Your eyes are quite rigid and your face is red,” she said acidly, “as if you were drunk, although there has been little wine drunk yet. Don’t get entangled in Lollia Poppaea’s intrigues. She’s a calculating little bitch, and she has her price, but I’m afraid it’s too high for a fool like you.”
I was angry on Poppaea’s behalf, for her behavior was quite innocent and one could not possibly mistake it. At the same time, Sabina’s offensive remark excited me secretly and made me think that perhaps I had some hope if I were tactful enough to become closer acquainted with Poppaea.
In a brief pause in my duties I approached her again, which was not difficult since other women obviously avoided her and the men had once again gathered around the guest of honor to listen to his unvarnished stories from Britain.
To my dazzled eyes, Poppaea looked like an abandoned child, however proudly she tried to hold up her blonde head. I felt a great tenderness for her, but when I tried to. brush her bare arm she jerked back, turned away and gave me a look which reflected deep disappointment.
“Is that all you want, Minutus?” she whispered bitterly. “Are you like all other men, although I hoped I had found a friend in you. Don’t you see why I prefer hiding my face behind a veil to exposing myself to lustful stares? Remember I am married, although if I could get a divorce, I could feel free.”
I assured her that I would rather open my veins than hurt her in any way. She was near to tears and leaned against me in exhaustion so that I could feel her body against mine. From what she said, I understood that she did not have the money for a divorce and in fact only the Emperor could dissolve her marriage, for she was a patrician. But she knew no one in the Palace who was influential enough to be able to put her case before Nero.
“I have experienced the meanness of all men,” she said. “If I turn to a stranger for help he would just make the most of my defenseless position. If only I had a real friend who would be content with my eternal gratitude without offending my modesty.”
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