ian must also be inclined to read them in my
favor."

"How can I be of use to you?"

"Show yourself what you really are in your intercourse with the Emperor"

"I thank you for those words--and I beg you do not provoke me any more.
If it might yet be something more than a mere post of honor to be the
wife of Verus, I would not ask for the new dignity of becoming wife to
Caesar."

"I will not go into the town to-day; I will stay with you. Now are you
happy?"

"Yes, yes," cried she, and she raised her arm to throw it round her
husband's neck, but he held her aside and whispered:

"That will do. The idyllic is out of place in the race for the purple."

CHAPTER VIII.

Titianus had ordered his charioteer to drive at once to Lochias. The
road led past the prefect's palace, his residence on the Bruchiom, and
he paused there; for the letter which lay hidden in the folds of his
toga, contained news, which, within a few hours, might put him under
the necessity of not returning home till the following morning. Without
allowing himself to be detained by the officials, subalterns, or
lictors, who were awaiting his return to make communications, or to
receive his orders, he went straight through the ante-room and the large
public rooms for men, to find his wife in the women's apartments which
looked upon the garden. He met her at the door of her room, for she had
heard his step approaching and came out to receive him.

"I was not mistaken," said the matron with sincere pleasure. "How
pleasant that you have been released so early to-day. I did not expect
you till supper was over."

"I have come only to go again," replied Titianus, entering his
wife's room. "Have some bread brought to me and a cup of mixed wine;
why--really! here stands all I want ready as if I had ordered it. You
are right, I was with Sabina a shorter time than usual; but she exerted
herself in that short time to utter as many sour words as if we had been
talking for half a day. And in five minutes I must quit you again, till
when?--the gods alone know when I shall return. It is hard even to speak
the words, but all our trouble and care, and all poor Pontius' zeal and
pains-taking labor are in vain."

As he spoke the prefect threw himself on a couch; his wife handed him
the refreshment he had asked for, and said, as she passed her hand over
his grey hair:

"Poor man! Has Hadrian then determined after all to inhabit the
Caesareum?"

"No. Leave us