ssing her arms she said
resolutely and with dignity:

"Go your way--through life with your Ovid, and your gods of love, but do
not attempt to crush innocence under the wheels of your chariot."

"Balbilla do you mean," asked the praetor with a loud laugh. "She knows
how to take care of herself and has too much spirit to let herself get
entangled in erotics. The little son of Venus has nothing to say to two
people who are such good friends as she and I are."

"May I believe you?"

"My word for it, I ask nothing of her but a kind word," cried he,
frankly offering his hand to his wife. Lucilla only touched it lightly
with her fingers and said:

"Send me back to Rome. I have an unutterable longing to see my children,
particularly the boys."

"It cannot be," said Verus. "Not at present; but in a few weeks, I
hope."

"Why not sooner?"

"Do not ask me."

"A mother may surely wish to know why she is separated from her baby in
the cradle."

"That cradle is at present in your mother's house, and she is taking
care of our little ones. Have patience, a little longer for that which I
am striving after, for you, and for me, and not last, for our son, is so
great, so stupendously great and difficult that it might well outweigh
years of longing."

Verus spoke the last words in a low tone, but with a dignity which
characterized him only in decisive moments, but his wife, even before he
had done speaking, clasped his right-hand in both of hers and said in a
low frightened voice:

"You aim at the purple?" He nodded assent.

"That is what it means then!"

"What?"

"Sabina and you--"

"Not on that account only; she is hard and sharp to others, but to me
she has shown nothing but kindness, ever since I was a boy."

"She hates me."

"Patience, Lucilla; patience! The day is coming when the daughter of
Nigrinus, the wife of Caesar, and the former Empress--but I will not
finish. I am, as you know, warmly attached to Sabina, and sincerely wish
the Emperor a long life."

"And he will adopt."

"Hush!--he is thinking of it, and his wife wishes It."

"Is it likely to happen soon?"

"Who can tell at this moment what Caesar may decide on in the very
next hour. But probably his decision may be made on the thirtieth of
December."

"Your birthday."

"He asked what day it was, and he is certainly casting my horoscope, for
the night when my mother bore me--"

"The stars then are to seal our fate?"

"Not they alone. Hadr