stood trembling opposite her. For
a moment they remained gazing upon each other; he aghast at the apparent
consequences of his remark, reproaching himself for having so
inconsiderately raised her anger by daring to compare, even in feature,
a lowly country girl with her, and despairingly asking himself what he
should do to restore himself to her favor--she more and more wrapping
herself in a disguise of outward pride and haughty bearing, lest by some
chance his unsuspecting eyes might detect the truth, and yet inwardly
bleeding at the heart to think that she could not reveal herself to him
and promise him her friendship, in full confidence that his love for her
would not return and bring new distress upon them. Then suddenly, while
each stood wondering what course to take, a light step was heard in the
outer hall, and the poet Emilius entered.

CHAPTER XI.

At the interruption, AEnone hastily reseated herself; while Cleotos, in
obedience to a quick and significant motion of her finger, remained in
the room, and, resuming his position at the table, prepared to continue
his writing. The poet Emilius could not, of course, fail to notice this
somewhat confused alteration of posture, but no suspicion of having
intruded upon an embarrassing scene crossed his mind. He merely saw a
proudly erect mistress and a cowering slave; and it was no unusual thing
to interrupt a Roman lady in the act of giving even corporeal correction
to her attendant, nor did the stranger's entrance always cause the
punishment to cease.

'Has the caitiff been insolent?' he exclaimed, in gallant tone, as he
approached and seated himself before her. 'Has he dared to look too
rebelliously upon so charming a mistress? If so, permit that I may
chastise him for you. It is not fit that such fair hands should be
obliged to wield the rod.'

'Nay, it is nothing,' she said. 'Nothing, indeed, needing much reproof;
and it is all past now. And wherefore have we lately seen so little of
you?'

'Commands of court--the claims of Parnassus--all these, fair lady, have
withheld me from heretofore giving to beauty its proper meed of
admiration and worship. To speak more plainly, I have undertaken, by
order of our emperor, the not ungrateful task of weaving a few poetical
sentiments to be recited at the opening of our new amphitheatre. And in
order that the results of my labor might not lessen my already acquired
fame, I judged it most prudent to seclude myself for