ed the Augusta with his arms, only
she drew back quickly a step or two.

"Dea ... in the name of my love for thee ..." he began.

But she interrupted him gently, yet firmly.

"Speak not to me of love, my lord," she said. "'Tis but love's ghost
that moves to and fro when you speak."

Then as he would have protested, she put up her hand with a gesture of
finality.

"It is no use, my lord. What love there is in me, that you could never
have aroused--not even in the past. I entreat you not to insist. Love
cannot be compelled. It is or is not. Whence it comes we know not;
mayhap the gods do know ... mayhap there is only one who knows ... and
he seems to give much, but also to take all.... Therefore mayhap love
comes from him, and when we are not prepared to give up all for love's
sake, then doth he withhold the supreme gift and leave our hearts
barren.... Mayhap! mayhap!" she sighed, "alas! I know not! and you, good
my lord, do not look so puzzled and so scared. I bid you farewell now.
I'll not forget you; to remember is so much easier than to love."

He had perforce to accept his dismissal. He felt rebellious against fate
and would have liked to have forced her will. But as she stood there
before him, clad all in white, so young and so chaste and yet a woman
who knew what love was, an awed reverence for her crept into his heart
and he felt that indeed he would never dare to speak again to her of
love.

He too kissed the hem of her tunic now, just as the others had done, and
just as they had done he walked out of her presence backwards with back
bent and an overwhelming disappointment in his heart.

CHAPTER XXXVI

"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding."--PHILIPPIANS
IV. 7.

Three months had gone by since then. Rome had acclaimed the Caesar and
rejoiced over his homecoming. There were holidays and spectacles,
chariot races and gladiatorial combats, and the people of Rome forgot
that it had ever shouted: "Hail Taurus Antinor Caesar! Hail!"

Now the calls were for Caius Julius Caesar Caligula, and those who had
most loudly shouted for his death, cringed most obsequiously at his
feet. The very name of the ex-praefect of Rome was already forgotten.

His testament, made, it appears, just before his death, had been
copiously commented on at first. All his slaves had received their
freedom together with a sufficient sum to enable one and all to live in
comfort in the new state of freedom. The rest