e on the sea, tones of green, and tones of deep cerulean,
deepening and deepening, as her eye drifted off toward the horizon,
like the blendings of a chromatic series. And so Cornelia passed the
morning in a mood of joyful discontent. Lucius Ahenobarbus, who came
to have his usual passage of arms with her, found her so extremely
affable, yet half-preoccupied, that he was puzzled, yet on the whole
delighted. "She must be yielding," he mentally commented; and when
they played at draughts, Cornelia actually allowed herself to be
beaten. Ahenobarbus started off for Puteoli in an excellent humour.
His litter had barely swung down the road from the villa before
Cassandra was knocking at her mistress's chamber door.

"_Io!_ domina," was her joyful exclamation, "I think I have got every
eavesdropper out of the way. Ahenobarbus is off for Puteoli. I have
cooked up a story to keep the freedmen and other busybodies off. You
have a desperate headache, and cannot leave the room, nor see any one.
But remember the terrace over the water, where the colonnade shuts it
in on all sides but toward the sea. This afternoon, if a boat with two
strange-looking fishermen passes under the embankment, don't be
surprised."

And having imparted this precious bit of information, the woman was
off. Drusus's gold pieces had made her the most successful of
schemers.

II

Cornelia feigned her headache, and succeeded in making herself so
thoroughly petulant and exacting to all her maids, that when she
ordered them out of the room, and told them on no account to disturb
her in any respect for the rest of the day, they "rejoiced with
trembling," and had no anxiety to thrust their attentions upon so
unreasonable a mistress. And a little while later a visit of a
strolling juggler--whose call had perhaps been prompted by
Cassandra--made their respite from duty doubly welcome.

Cornelia was left to herself, and spent the next hour in a division of
labour before her silver wall-mirror, dressing--something which was
sufficiently troublesome for her, accustomed to the services of a bevy
of maids--and at the window, gazing toward Puteoli for the
fishing-boat that seemed never in sight. At last the toilet was
completed to her satisfaction. Cornelia surveyed herself in her best
silken purple flounced stola, thrust the last pin into her hair, and
confined it all in a net of golden thread. Roman maidens were not as a
rule taught to be modest about their charm