I am paying her this
morning."

"He seemeth in good humour," whispered Dea Flavia, whose little hands
were trembling as they made pretence once more of taking up the
modelling tools. Licinia hurriedly tried to smooth down the golden hair
which had become unruly during the course of the morning, but in her
haste only succeeded in completely disarranging it and it fell in wavy
masses down the young girl's shoulders, all but one plait which remained
fixed over her brow like a wide band of gold.

Dea uttered an exclamation of horror and made a quick gesture, trying to
capture the recalcitrant curls, even at the very moment that the Emperor
Caligula entered the room.

He paused on the threshold and her arms dropped down to her side. Her
golden hair fell all round her as she bent her knees making obeisance to
the Caesar. There was nothing regal about her now, nothing imperious or
proud; she looked just like a child caught unawares at play.

Blushing with confusion she advanced toward her kinsman, and with head
bent received his kiss upon her pure forehead. Nor did she shrink at
this loathsome contact which would have filled almost any other woman's
heart with horror. To her this man was not really human--he was the
Caesar--a supernatural being blessed by the gods, and endowed by them
with supreme majesty and power.

"Dismiss thy slaves," he said curtly, "I would have speech with thee."

He had well schooled his turbulent temper to calmness. After Caius
Nepos' departure and a final outburst of unbridled violence, he had
plunged into a cold bath and given himself over for half an hour to the
ministrations of his slaves. Then, cool and refreshed--at any rate
outwardly--he had dressed himself in simple robes, and passing right
through the halls of the Palace of Tiberius which adjoined his own, he
had reached the precincts of Dea Flavia's house, which in its turn
abutted on that built by Germanicus.

At any other time but the present one--when his frenzied mind was wholly
given over to thoughts of the terrible treachery against his own
person--he would have been conscious of Dea Flavia's exquisite beauty,
as she stood before him, humble with the proud humility of one who has
everything to give and nothing to receive; chaste with that pure
ignorance which refuses to know what it cannot condone, and withal a
perfect woman, imbued with a fascination which no man had ever been able
to resist, for it was the fascination of you