You must visit his banqueting-hall in Rome.

It is perfection!' 'But why is he here ?' 'He has come to Ravenna, charged with some secret message from the Senate, and has presented a rare breed of chickens to that foolish--' 'Hush! you may be overheard!' 'Well!--to that wise emperor of ours! Ah! the palace has been so pleasant since he has been here!' At this instant the above dialogue--from the frivolity of which the universally-learned readers of modern times will, we fear, recoil with contempt--was interrupted by a movement on the part of its hero which showed that his occupation was at an end.

With the elaborate deliberation of a man who disdains to exhibit himself as liable to be hurried by any mortal affair, Vetranio slowly folded up the vellum he had now filled with writing, and depositing it in his bosom, made a sign to a slave who happened to be then passing near him with a dish of fruit.
Having received his message, the slave retired to the entrance of the apartment, and beckoning to a man who stood outside the door, motioned him to approach Vetranio's couch.
This individual immediately hurried across the room to the window where the elegant Roman awaited him.

Not the slightest description of him is needed; for he belonged to a class with which moderns are as well acquainted as ancients--a class which has survived all changes of nations and manners--a class which came in with the first rich man in the world, and will only go out with the last.

In a word, he was a parasite.
He enjoyed, however, one great superiority over his modern successors: in his day flattery was a profession--in ours it has sunk to a pursuit.
'I shall leave Ravenna this evening,' said Vetranio.
The parasite made three low bows and smiled ecstatically.
'You will order my travelling equipage to be at the palace gates an hour before sunset.' The parasite declared he should never forget the honour of the commission, and left the room.
The sprightly Camilla, who had overheard Vetranio's command, jumped off her couch, as soon as the parasite's back was turned, and running up to the senator, began to reproach him for the determination he had just formed.
'Have you no compunction at leaving me to the dulness of this horrible palace, to satisfy your idle fancy for going to Rome,' said she, pouting her pretty lip, and playing with a lock of the dark brown hair that clustered over Vetranio's brow.
'Has the senator Vetranio so little regard for his friends as to leave them to the mercy of the Goths ?' said another lady, advancing with a winning smile to Camilla's side.
'Ah, those Goths!' exclaimed Vetranio, turning to the last speaker.
'Tell me, Julia, is it not reported that the barbarians are really marching into Italy ?' 'Everybody has heard of it.