had passed for Cornelia. But only a little while after
Agias left for Rome,--with a very large packet of letters for
Drusus,--the pleasant, self-created world of fantasy, that had given
Cornelia some portion of happiness, vanished. Like a clap of thunder
from a cloudless sky Lucius Ahenobarbus suddenly arrived in Baiae. He
was tired of Rome, which was still very hot and uncomfortable. He
loathed politics, they were stupid. He had lost a boon companion when
Publius Gabinius was driven into outlawry. Marcus Laeca was too deeply
in debt to give any more dinners. Pratinas was fled to Egypt. And so
he had come to Baiae, to harass Cornelia by his presence; to gibe at
her; and assure her that her uncle was more determined than ever that
she should marry him--say and do what she might.

Ahenobarbus quartered himself in the Lentulan villa as the prospective
nephew-in-law of its owner. He brought with him his customary train of
underlings, and had travelled in appropriate state, in a litter with
eight picked bearers, lolling on a cushion stuffed with rose-leaves,
and covered with Maltese gauze, one garland on his head, another round
his neck, and holding to his nose a smelling-bag of small-meshed linen
filled with roses.

With all his effeminacy, he was beyond the least doubt desperately
determined to possess himself of Cornelia. His passion was purely
animal and unrefined, but none could doubt it. Cornelia feared to have
him near her, and knew peace neither day nor night. He assumed all a
master's rights over the slaves and freedmen, sending them hither and
yon to do his bidding. He had recovered from the fear Cornelia had
struck into him, in her first defiance, and met her threats and
hauteur with open scorn.

"You are a most adorable actress!" was his constant sneer. And his
every action told that he did not intend to let Cornelia play with him
a second time. With all his profligacy and moral worthlessness, he had
a tenacity of purpose and an energy in this matter that showed that
either Cornelia must in the end bow to his will, or their contest
would end in something very like a tragedy.

And if a tragedy, so be it, was the desperate resolve of Cornelia;
whose eyes were too stern for tears when she saw that Lucius was still
the former creature of appetite; full of intrigue, sweethearts,
seashore revels, carouses, singing, and music parties and water
excursions with creatures of his choice from morning until midnight.
She