Slowly and with assumed severity she spoke.
"Because--I--do--not--love--you."

"Cruel one!" said he, turning and biting his lips. "Your words are as
the blow of the pilum."

"Have they indeed wounded you?" She touched his hand with a look of
sympathy.

"They have made me sick at heart."

"Then would I not believe them," said she, tenderly, slipping her
slender fingers into his.

He pressed her hand. "And do you, then, love me?"

"No--I--do--not--love--you."

"You are a strange people--you maidens of the capital," said he, taking
her hand in both of his. "Rome has conquered everything save its
women."

She parted her tunic and stood looking down at her white bosom, and
with her delicate fingers brushed off a bit of dust which had fallen
from the vine above them.

"I do think much of love," said she, thoughtfully, still looking down
at her breast.

"And of me," he insisted.

"Nay, not of you," she answered, without delay.

"I shall know," said he, wistfully, "for I shall consult the fates. I
have here a sacred coin. An old dame found it when she was digging in
the side of Soracte. See, it has on its face the head of Apollo, and
opposite is an arrow in a death-hand. And the hag had an odd dream of
this coin, so she told me--that it fell out of the sky, and was,
indeed, from the treasury of the gods, and had in it a wonderful power
in all mysteries. And one might tell by tossing it in the air and
noting its fall, if he were loved or hated by the first one he should
see after learning its answer. I have never known it to fail. If the
head is up you love me," said he, tossing the disk of metal.

It fell and lay at his feet.

"The head!" he exclaimed, with joy.

"Is it really blest of the gods?" she inquired, eagerly, her cheeks
aflame. "Is it indeed blest?"

"So said the woman who gave it me."

"Now I shall toss it," said she, taking the coin.

"Ah! you would know if I love you," he answered.

The coin leaped high and fell and rolled along the marble walk. Both
followed eagerly, he leading, and, as it stopped, he quickly covered
the bit of metal with his hand.

"Let me see!" said she, her hand upon his wrist.

"Do not look."

"Let me see it!" she insisted.

"Sweet sister of Appius, I beg of you, here on my knees, do not look at
the coin! I will give you the white steeds from Cappadocia, but do not
look."

"Let me see it, I say, son of Varro!" She was tugging at his wrist,
and