en her that day, the iron ring
of betrothal on her finger, her brother, Commodus, staring at the
arrangement of her hair, her mother prettily perplexed, her father
signing orders which messengers brought and despatched while the sand
took on a deeper red, and Rome shrieked its delight. Yes, it would have
been interesting and typical of the hour. Her hair in the ten tresses
which were symbolic of a fiancee's innocence, must have amused that
brute of a brother of hers, and the iron ring on the fourth finger of
her left hand must have given Faustine food for thought; the vestals,
in their immaculate robes, must have gazed at her in curious, sisterly
ways, and because of her fresh beauty surely there were undertones of
applause. Should her father disappear she would make a gracious
imperatrix indeed.

But, meanwhile, there was Faustine, and at sight of her legends of old
imperial days returned. She was not Messalina yet, but in the stables
there were jockeys whose sudden wealth surprised no one; in the arenas
there were gladiators that fought, not for liberty, nor for death, but
for the caresses of her eyes; in the side-scenes there were mimes who
spoke of her; there were senators who boasted in their cups, and in the
theatre Rome laughed colossally at the catchword of her amours.

Marcus Aurelius then was occupied with affairs of state. In similar
circumstances so was Claud--Messalina's husband--so, too, was Antonin.
But Claud was an imbecile, Antonin a man of the world, while Marcus
Aurelius was a philosopher. When fate links a woman to any one of these
varieties of the husband, she is blessed indeed. Faustine was
particularly favored.

The stately prince was not alone a philosopher--a calling, by the way,
which was common enough then, and has become commoner since--he was a
philosopher who believed in philosophy, a rarity then as now. The exact
trend of his thought is difficult to define. His note-book is filled
with hesitations; materialism had its allurements, so also had
pantheism; the advantages of the Pyrrhonic suspension of judgment were
clear to him too; according to the frame of mind in which he wrote, you
might fancy him an agnostic, again an akosmist, sometimes both, but
always the ethical result is the same.

"Revenge yourself on your enemy by not resembling him. Forgive; forgive
always; die forgiving. Be indulgent to the wrong-doer; be compassionate
to him; tell him how he should act; speak to him without