tortured nerves against what was in store for it and
them.

"Go for Claudius!" Eudemius gasped; and Varia turned and ran. Eudemius
flung himself back on the couch and lay there, striving with all his
iron will to hold the convulsions in check. But he began to writhe,
terribly, with no sound but the whistling of his breath through locked
jaws. His hand, outflung, touched the cup that glowed like a ruby on the
stand beside the couch. He clutched it, and crushed its fragile beauty
into atoms; and blood dripped with the wine upon the floor.

A torch gleamed outside the door, and hasty feet came running. Claudius,
the physician, entered, very old, very small, with silver hair and beard
that was like a snow-drift, followed by two slaves with lights and
instruments. They lighted all the lamps, so that the room was bright as
noon; and Claudius took from them what he wanted, and sent them both
away. Then he rolled his sleeves above his elbows, and went to the couch
where the silent figure lay twisting; and as he went he tucked his long
white beard inside the collar of his gown.

III

But the plans of Marius did not fall out as he had intended. It was a
month before he returned to the villa, with the prospect of remaining on
British soil until another galley could be fitted out and commissioned.
This was exasperating, and Marius fumed secretly and swore at the delay.
Thinking to make the best of his enforced idleness by betaking himself
to Aquae Solis, the fashionable watering-place of Britain, and what
solace he could find there, he found himself again disappointed. The
leave he applied for was granted, but as he was starting upon his
journey, word was brought to him that his father was ill. He found it
nothing serious, but Livinius, grown querulous and childish in his
fever, begged Marius not to leave him. So, perforce, Marius stayed,
contenting himself with boar-hunting in Eudemius's vast parks, and being
entertained by his host.

Eudemius, seemingly unchanged since his illness, had not forgotten that
the young tribune's eyes had once looked with favor on his daughter. And
since love, like life, is but a game, and much may be done by a player
who handles his pawns wisely, Eudemius began to conjure up hopes which,
in spite of himself, he knew might never see fulfilment. The more he saw
of Marius, the more he coveted his strength to prop his dying house. His
fortune would be safe in Marius's hands, his name would be safe