s, the pride had vanished and
all the joy of life; no thought was left in the young mind now save an
overwhelming sense of loyalty, no feeling lingered in the heart save the
desire for self-sacrifice.

The Caesar had commanded and since she could not disobey she was ready to
die; memory had in a swift flash called up before her the vision of a
man who, rather than yield to her caprice, had smiled at the thought of
death. And she, too, had almost smiled, for suddenly she had understood
how small a thing was life when slavery became its price.

But now all that had changed. The Caesar pleaded and made appeal to her
loyalty. Her refusal to obey him was no longer pride, it was
disloyalty--almost sacrilege. The Caesar called to her! It was as if the
gods had spoken, and she fell on her knees, ready to obey.

The consummate actor was clever enough to hide the triumph that lit up
his eyes when he saw her thus kneeling, and understood that she was
prepared to yield.

He stretched out a paternal hand, and with weary sadness stroked her
golden hair.

"Trust me, gracious lord," she reiterated, "my life is thine, do with it
what thou wilt."

"Traitors are at work, Dea Flavia, to murder the Caesar," he said gently.

"Ye gods!" she murmured, horrified.

"Aye! wouldst think mayhap that the gods will interfere? They will? I
tell thee that they will! but they have need of thee, Augusta! I, thy
Caesar, thy god do have need of thee!"

With both hands now he took her own in his, not roughly, but with
infinite tenderness, and cunningly contrived that two hot tears should
fall upon her fingers.

"My gracious lord!" she whispered, "my life is at thy service."

"Accept the husband whom I propose for thee ... and my life will be
safe.... Refuse to obey me in this and to-morrow the blood of Caesar will
be upon thy head...."

"My lord...."

"Wilt obey me, Augusta?"

"My gracious lord ... I do not understand," she pleaded; "have pity on
my ignorance ... trust me but a little further...."

"I cannot tell thee more," he said with a sigh of patient weariness,
"but this I do tell thee, that my life and with it the future of our
House--of the Empire--now lie in thy hands. The abominable traitors
would make a tool even of thee. 'The husband of Dea Flavia Augusta,'
they say, 'shall succeed the murdered Caesar!'"

She uttered a cry of horror.

"Their names," she murmured, "tell me their names."

"I know but a few."

"Which are th