tart."

"That is too bad," Eudemius said. He was looking at Marius at the
moment, and Marius was looking beyond him into the court. Eudemius saw
that all at once his face changed slightly, and his eyes awoke to a
faint, curious interest. Eudemius knew that nothing in his words could
have aroused this, and waited. Then he understood that Marius was
watching some one outside in the courtyard; some one whose approach he
could gauge by following the man's glance. The some one came to the door
that opened on the court, and stopped there, and Eudemius glanced aside
and saw Varia on the threshold. At the same instant Marius rose.

She wore robes that flowed and yet were clinging, of faintest green,
like the young shining leaves of springtime; and her skin glowed and her
lips were crimson, and her hair was loose and tumbled. She held a ball
in her hands, and stood in the doorway, hesitating, like a child who
does not know whether or not it will be welcomed, and yet would like to
enter and find out what was going on. In her pose there was a quaint and
tender dignity, in odd contrast with her rumpled hair and the childish
plaything in her hands. Eudemius looked at her; and for a single instant
the veil of prejudice was lifted from his eyes, and he saw that, in
spite of all, this child of his was fair,--as fair as the dear dead
woman who had given her to him and lived to know what she had done. For
that instant hope rose in him; he shot a glance at Marius and read the
dawning admiration in his eyes; perhaps, after all, in some not too
distant time, there might be--Then he realized the futility of such
hopes, that had wakened and died so many times before. Marius did not
know the truth. When he did know--He saw that Varia did not look at
either of the others, but straight at him, and he spoke to her.

"Come hither, child!"

She came, docile, and stood near the foot of his couch. With her there
seemed to enter a breath of pure fragrance, as of wind blowing softly
among unspoiled, wild flowers of the country-side, of all things young
and innocent and holy. Livinius's face softened as he looked at her. She
waited, watching her father, expecting nothing. Always he had given her
nothing to expect, neither unkindness nor affection. Eudemius looked at
Livinius; from him to Marius, where he stood in the window, silent,
dominant even in his silence.

"And this is mine!" he said, with a motion of his hand toward Varia.
Livinius, alone u