her respect for his Caesarship
made her blind to every one of his faults, but this additional simple
testimony from her pure lips caused him to relent towards her, and quite
instinctively made him curb the violent grossness of his tongue.

"Thou speakest truly, O Dea Flavia," he said complacently. "The gods
will, when the time comes, speak through my mouth and make known their
will through my dictates even as they have done hitherto--even as they
do at this moment when I tell thee that I desire to see thee married."

"My lord hath spoken," she said calmly.

"Do not think, O Dea Flavia," he continued, carried away by his own
eloquence, "that I desire aught but thy happiness. If I decide to give
thee for wife to a man, it shall only be to one who is worthy of thee in
every respect. Thou shalt help me to choose him ... for I have not yet
made my choice ... he shall testify before thee as to his nobility and
his bravery.... An thou dost assure me that thou hast not yet bestowed
thy regard on any man----"

He paused midway in his phrase with indrawn breath, waiting for her
reply. She gave it firmly and without hesitation.

"I have cast my eyes on no man, my lord, and have no desire to marry."

"Wouldst consecrate thy virginity to Vesta then?" he asked with a sneer.

"Rather that," she replied, "if my lord would so deign to command."

"Tush!" he broke in impatiently. "Herein thou dost offend the gods and
me! 'Tis impious to waste thy beauty in barren singleness; the gods hate
the solitary maid unless she be ill-favoured and unpleasing to every
man. Thou of the House of Caesar hast a mission to fulfil and canst not
fulfil it thus in isolation, fashioning clay figures that have no life
which they can consecrate to Caesar. But have no fear, for I, thy lord,
do watch over thy future--the man whom I will choose for thee will be
worthy of thy smiles."

He drew up his misshapen figure to its full height and beamed at the
young girl with an expression of paternal benignness. He was delighted
with himself, delighted with his own oratory. He was such a born
mountebank that he could even act the part of kindness and benevolence,
and he acted it at this moment so realistically that the ignorant,
confiding girl was taken in by his tricks.

She saw the gracious smile and was too inexperienced, too devoted, to
see the hideous leer that he was at pains to conceal.

"The choice will be difficult, gracious lord," she said, feeling