seem that they are delicate enough--"

"She herself hath said--" Eudemius began, and stopped. The mask of his
face never changed; only his mouth settled into sterner lines and his
eyes grew more forbidding. Silence fell between the two and lasted until
Marcus came in again and held the curtains apart for Varia. She entered
quickly, her bosom heaving, lips pouting, eyes full of tears.

"Nerissa would have it that I should wear this dress, and I hate it!"
she cried petulantly, before either man could speak. "She said that thou
didst will it so. Wherefore? I will not wear it ever again. I scolded
her until she wept, but she made me wear it."

"She was right. I gave command to her," Eudemius said coldly. "Sit
there."

Varia dropped into the seat opposite Marius, with a resentful glance at
her father and a wrathful twitch of the hated robe. It was of faintest
amethyst, with tunic embroidered in gold, fastened by many jewels. She
looked like a fair young princess, a very angry young princess; and
Marius, from where he reclined at ease on the opposite side of the
table, looked across at her with quite evident admiration.

"Why should you hate it, if unworthy man may ask?" he said amusedly.
"Surely not because you think it makes you less fair, since nothing
could do that. Why, then?"

"Because I do!" she flashed at him, as though that settled the matter.
Marius bowed in mock humility.

"The best reason of all!" he said gallantly.

"Child, with whom didst thou play thy game in the garden?" Eudemius
asked. His voice was gentler than his face, and quite casual. Varia fell
into the trap. She looked up eagerly.

"It was a game--" she began, and stopped, with the red blood flushing
into her face and her eyes turning from her father to Marius. "I do not
remember!" she stammered.

Eudemius turned his sombre eyes full on her, and she shrank and
trembled.

"Thou dost not remember?" Eudemius said in his even, inexorable voice.
"But there was a game? Was it a game in which a man held thee in his
arms and kissed thee?"

She nodded quickly.

"Ay, a game," she exclaimed, and caught herself up. "No, no!" she cried
fearfully. "It was no game--Oh, I do not know! I cannot remember!"

She hid her face in her hands and wept. Eudemius motioned to the silent
slave behind her chair.

"Take her to her nurse and return," he said. "I'll have the truth of
this by some means."

Marcus led his weeping mistress away; and Eudemius saw tha