ient after this to insist on
further conversation. Moreover the presence of the slaves put a check on
privacy. It was better on the whole to obey. These sybarites too were
not averse to the thought of a rich table and of merry-making in the
Augusta's house until the morrow. Her cooks were noted for their skill
and hers were the richest cellars in Rome.

Caius Nepos, Ancyrus, the elder, and the others all walked out of Dea
Flavia's presence backwards and with spine bent at an obsequious angle.

Hortensius Martius was the last to leave. He knelt on the floor, and
taking the edge of her tunic between his fingers he touched it
reverently with his lips. She looked down on him, not unkindly. Had he
but known that his greatest claim on her graciousness was that his life
had been saved by another, he would not have worn that look of triumph
as he finally followed the others out of the room.

"She hath made her choice, my lord," said Caius Nepos amiably, taking
the younger man by the arm, "a woman was not like to reject such
brilliant proposals."

"I will ask for the praefecture of Rome," murmured Ancyrus, the elder,
complacently.

My lord Hortensius Martius said nothing, but he disengaged his arm from
his too familiar friend and walked ahead of all the others, squaring his
shoulders and holding his head erect, as one already marked out to rule
over the rest of mankind.

CHAPTER XXX

"Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way...."--ST. MATTHEW VII. 14.

In the studio, upon the throne-like chair of carved citrus wood and
heavy crimson silk, Dea Flavia sat silent and alone.

The footsteps of the men quickly died away on the marble floors of the
atrium, their harsh voices and loud laughter only reached this secluded
spot as a faint, intangible echo.

The patter of the rain from above into the impluvium was soothing in its
insistent monotony, only from time to time Jove, still angered, sent his
thunders rolling through the heavy clouds and his lightnings rending the
lurid sky.

The people of Rome, wrathful against the Caesar, vaguely demanding
vengeance for wrongs unstated, had not gone to rest. Like the gale a
while ago they had merely drawn back in their fury, quiescent for a
while, but losing neither strength nor temerity. Dull cries still
resounded from afar. "Death to the Caesar!" was still the rallying cry,
though it came now subdued by distance, and the majestic screens of
stately temples interposed betw