not readily
succumb twice to a danger which he barely escaped. And this was well! He
should learn that he had misunderstood the glance which fired his heart;
so she answered distantly, with majestic dignity:

"Misery such as mine quenches all ardour. And love? Woman's heart is ever
open to it, save where it has lost the desire for power and pleasure. You
are young and happy, therefore your soul still yearns for love--I know
that--though not for mine. To me, on the contrary, one suitor only is
welcome, he with the lowered torch, whom you keep aloof from me. With him
alone is to be found the boon for which this soul has longed from
childhood--painless peace! You smile. My past gives you the right to do
so. I will not lessen it. Each individual lives his or her own life. Few
understand the changes of their own existence, far less those of a
stranger's. The world has witnessed how Peace fled from my path, or I
from hers, and yet I see the possibility of finding the way. I am safe
from the only things which would debar me from those joys--humiliation
and disgrace." Here she hesitated; then, as if in explanation, continued
in the sweetest tones at her command: "Your generosity, I think, will
guard from these two foes the woman whom just now--I did not fail to see
it--you considered worthy of a more than gracious glance. I shall
treasure it among memories which will never fade. But now, illustrious
Imperator! tell me, what is your decision concerning me and the children?
What may we hope from your favour?"

"That Octavianus will be more and more warmly animated by the desire to
accord you and yours a worthy destiny, the more firmly you expect that he
will attest his generosity."

"And if I fulfil this desire and expect from you everything that is great
and noble--the condition is not difficult--what proofs of your
graciousness will then await us?"

"Paint them with all the fervour of that vivid power of imagination which
interpreted even my glance in your favour, and devised the marvels by
which you rendered the greatest and most brilliant man in Rome the
happiest of mortals. But--by Zeus!--it is the fourth hour after noonday!"

A glance from the window had caused the exclamation. Then, pressing his
hand upon his heart, he continued in a tone of the most sincere regret
"How gladly I would prolong this fascinating conversation, but important
matters which, unfortunately, cannot be deferred, summon me--"

"And your answer