there is no one of
his friends who thanks the gods more fervently for his recovery."

On its face the speech was cordial--much too cordial for love that has
quarrelled; therefore he bent his head and answered:--

"Were it not impiety, the noble Lucius would thank his well-wisher for
her words, more, even, than he thanks the gods for his recovery."

"Ah!" she replied lightly, "then he must scatter his thanks yet more
broadly, for there cannot be a defenceless woman in Rome who does not
rejoice that so brave a defender is spared to the State."

Sarcasm for sarcasm, he thought bitterly, but he answered as
carelessly:--

"In that case, I shall not bear my thanks beyond the gods; for if my
health be no greater care to you than to all the white stoles in the
city, I think I can measure its value."

An expression of almost infantile surprise and reproach crossed her
features.

"You are either very forgetful or very ungrateful," she said. "If
Venus has healed so faithful a votary, surely mortal women have not
been lacking in their sympathy; nor, if report tells truly, has the
noble Lucius been lacking in gratitude--until now."

That shaft struck home, and, for a moment, Sergius could find no
answer. He could only remember the episode of the girl who had come to
him, and wonder which one of his household could have borne treacherous
word to Marcia of his weakness and his discomfiture. Meanwhile she had
turned carelessly and dismissed her women, and one had gone, throwing
back laughing glances, the other, with her face still buried in the
wool with which she had filled her arms.

Torquatus had been standing near, somewhat puzzled by what he felt to
be a battle of words between his daughter and his guest, but a battle
whose plans of attack or defence he found himself at a loss to fathom.
Feeling at last that it was incumbent upon him as host to break in upon
badinage that bade fair to become embarrassing, he spoke briefly of his
encounter with the mob and of Lucius' timely aid and clever ruse.
Marcia listened closely, nodding her head from time to time, but her
colour had deepened and her hand was clenched tight when the story was
finished.

"Who will be safe in Rome, father!" she burst out. "The rabble elect
their magistrates, and the magistrates, in return, let them do as they
please. When it comes to attacking you; a consular--a Manlius! We
must sleep no more in our houses unless the household be in arms and