p refused to visit
her this night; the thin streak of silvery moon, which persistently
peeped in through the curtain, flicked the tiny atoms in the air until
they assumed quaint, minute shapes of their own, like unto crawling
panthers and grotesque creatures crowned with a golden halo, and
brandishing a mock thunderbolt in one hand and a dagger in the other.
Then suddenly all these shapes would vanish, smothered beneath a cloak,
and Dea Flavia, still wide awake, would feel drops of moisture at the
roots of her hair, and her whole body, as if sinking into a black abyss,
where monsters yelled and wild beasts roared and huge, black, snake-like
creatures tore the flesh off human bones.

The hours of the night sped on, borne on the weighted feet of anguish
and of horror. Gradually, one by one, the sounds in and about the house
died away; the slaves in their quarters must have turned over on their
rough pallets and gone to sleep, the women close by had done gossiping,
only from the vestibule came the slow measured tread of the watchmen
guarding the Augusta's house, and from far away that ceaseless, rumbling
noise which meant that discontent was awake and astir.

Once more Dea Flavia sat up, unable to lie still. Her golden hair was
matted against her temples and in her breast her heart was beating
furiously. The waning moon had long since now sunk behind the western
clouds, a gentle breeze stirred the curtains with a soft, sighing noise
as of some human creature in pain. In the far corner of the room, in a
tiny lamp of gold, a tiny wick threw a feeble light around.

Dea Flavia put her feet to the ground. The heat in the room was
oppressive; no doubt it was that which had caused her restlessness, and
the dampness of her brow. She shuddered now when her bare feet touched
the smooth coldness of the mosaic floor, but she stood up resolutely,
and anon crossed over to the door which gave on the atrium.

For a few seconds she listened. Everything was still. Then very gently
she pushed open the door.

On the marble table, in the centre of the atrium, another light
glimmered in a jewelled lamp; but the atrium was vast and the diminutive
light did not reach its far corners. The gentle trickle of water along
the gutters in the floor made queer, ghost-like sounds, and in the great
pots of lilies all round currents of air sent weird moanings in the
night.

Dea Flavia, like an ethereal figure clad all in white, and with waves of
gold