ve," said she--"not yet. You have not told me
that you love me."

"I told all who were at the palace of the great father."

"But you have not told me, son of Varro."

"I do love you." He was approaching.

"Hush! Not now," she answered, taking his hand in hers--temporizing.
"Come, I will race with you."

She ran, leading him, with quick, pattering feet through an inner hall
and up the long triclinium. There, presently, she threw herself upon
the heap of cushions.

"Now, sit," said she, draping her robe and then feeling her hair that
was aglow with jewels.

A graceful and charming creature was this child of the new empire, a
noble beauty in her face and form, the value of a small kingdom on her
body. "Not so near," said she, as he complied. "Now, son of my
father's friend, say what you will and quickly."

"I love you," he began to say.

"Wait," she whispered, stopping him as she turned, looking up and down
the great hall. "It is for me alone. I will not share the words with
any other. Now tell me--tell me, son of Varro," she whispered, moving
nearer; "tell me at once."

"I love you, sweet girl, above gods and men. You are more to me than
crowns of laurel and gold, more than all that is in the earth and
heavens. My heart burns when I look at you."

He hesitated, pressing her hand upon his lips.

"Is that all?" said she, with a pretty sadness, looking down at the
golden braces on her fan. "Now, say it again, all, slowly."

She might as well have told a bird how he should sing.

He went on all unconscious of her command, his words lighted by the
fire in his heart. They were as waters rippling in the sun-glow.

"Without you there is no light in the heavens, no beauty in the earth,
no hope or glory in the future, no joy in my heart. My sword threatens
me, dear love, when I think of losing you."

She turned, quickly, with almost a look of surprise.

"It is beautiful," said she, with a sigh; "but is there no more?
Think, dear, noble knight; do think of more!"

She was near forgetting her plan. He took her in his arms and kissed
her.

"Think--think of more," said she, "and I will dance the tourina."

There was a note of gladness in her voice. It rang merry as a girdle
of silver bells. Now, on the floor near them was a golden square of
sunlight, and, tabret in hand, she sprang up and began to dance in it.
She moved swiftly back and forth, her arms extended, her white robe
flowing above th