begun to live, to realise that men lived, thought and
felt, that they had other desires but those of pleasing the Caesar or
winning his good graces. She had seen a man offering his life to save
another's, she had seen him clinging to a strange symbol which seemed to
bring peace to his heart.

That man she honoured and on him would rest her choice, and he would be
exalted above everyone on earth because she believed him to be loyal and
just, and knew him to be brave. Her own heart--still in its infancy--had
not realised that her choice would rest on that man, not because of his
virtues, not because of his courage and his power, but for the simple,
sublime, womanly reason that he was the man whom she loved.

And as she sat there, musing and still, with her eyes almost
involuntarily drawn toward the oaken door of the inner room, she saw it
slowly swinging out upon its hinges, she heard the swishing of the heavy
curtain behind it, and the next moment she saw the praefect of Rome
standing on the threshold.

He looked sick and wan, but strangely tall and splendid in the barbaric
pomp of the gorgeous robe which he had worn yesterday. Dion had cleaned
it of blood and dust, and it still looked crumpled and stained, but as
he came forward the purple and gold gleamed against the stuccoed walls
of the studio, and his tawny hair and sun-tanned face looked dark in the
subdued light.

She could see plainly through the robe the line of bandages which bound
his lacerated shoulders, and her heart was filled with pity for all that
he had suffered, and with pride at thought of all the joys that would
come to him through her.

As he came nearer to her, he bent the knee.

"I crave leave to kiss thy feet," he said, "for thy graciousness to me."

"Thou art well, O Taurus Antinor?" she asked timidly; "thy wounds...."

"Are healed, O gracious lady," he broke in gently, whilst a smile lit up
his dark face, "since thy lips did deign to ask after them."

"It was presumptuous of me to bring thee here," she said after a while.
"I feared that thou wast dead, and the Caesar...."

"Would have defiled my body. Then would I kiss the ground where the hem
of thy gown did touch it, for thy graciousness hath made it sacred."

"I pray thee rise," she said, "thou art weak."

"May I not kneel?"

"Not to me."

"Not to thee, but before thee, Augusta; before thy beauty and thy
purity, the exquisite creations of God."

"Of thy God, O Taurus Antinor