rein was a new light, spreading mysteriously.

"Dear Lady Lucia," said he, "I cannot amuse you with idle words. I
fear to speak, and yet silence would serve me ill. I offer not the
strength of my arms nor the fleetness of my feet, for they may fail me
tomorrow; nor my courage, for that has never been tried; nor the renown
of my fathers, for that is not mine to give; nor my life, for that
belongs to my country; nor my fortune, for I should blush to offer what
may be used to buy cattle. I would give a thing greater and more
lasting than all of these. It is my love."

The girl turned half away, blushing pink. All had flung off the mask
of comedy and now wore a look of surprise.

"By my faith!" said the poet, "this young knight meant his words."

"A man of sincerity, upon my soul!" said the old philosopher. "I have
put my hope in him, and so shall Rome. A lucky girl is she, for has he
not riches, talent, honor, temperance, courage, and the beauty of a
god? And was I not his teacher?"

"My brave Vergilius," the matron answered, "you are like the knights of
old I have heard my father tell of. They had such a way with
them--never a smile and a melancholy look in their faces when they
spoke of love. I give you the crown of gallantry, and, if she be
willing, you shall walk with her in the garden. That is your reward."

Vergilius, advancing, took the girl's hand and kissed it.

"Will you go with me?" said he.

"On one condition," she answered, looking down at the folds of her
tunic.

"And it is?"

"That you will entertain me with philosophy and the poets," she
answered, with a smile.

"And with no talk of love," the matron added, as Arria took his arm.

They walked through the long hall of the palace, over soft rugs and
great mosaics, and between walls aglow with tints of sky and garden.
These two bore with them a tender feeling as they passed the figures of
embattled horse and host in carven wood, and mural painting and colored
mosaic and wrought metal--symbols of the martial spirit of the empire
now oddly in contrast with their own. They came out upon a peristyle
overlooking an ample garden wherein were vines, flowers, and fruit
trees.

"You have a way of words," said she. "It is almost possible to believe
you."

He stopped and for a long moment looked into her eyes. "I love you,
sweet girl," he said, softly; "I love you. As I live, I speak the
truth."

"And you a man!" she exclaimed, incredul