but left to itself?"

"Is that truth?" he asked eagerly, but with a tinge of suspicion in his
voice.

"Surely, it is truth: as it is truth that I, with many other women,
have gone out to such cities where there are friends of our
houses--cities friendly to the new powers, friends strong enough to
give us shelter and protection. It is my happy fortune to have found a
city and a friend the strongest of all."

Calavius smiled complacently and stroked his beard.

"Yes, you have done well," he said slowly. "I am not without interest
with the captain-general of Carthage, and there may be yet greater
things in store for me. I will go now and send female attendants to
you, that you may seek the bath and your room, and have such
refreshment as you desire. I will talk with you again later, but
to-night there is the banquet at the house of the Ninii. Ah! it will
be the greatest feast that Capua has seen--a banquet to Hannibal and
the Carthaginian leaders. Farewell."

He turned to go, but she rose quickly and laid her hand upon his robe.

"You have not heard all, yet," she said, casting down her eyes and
speaking in halting phrases. "Do you truly believe that it is _only_ a
woman's fears that have brought me to Capua? You have not questioned
me closely. That is not worthy of your wisdom. It is hard for a woman
to tell all things unless they be drawn from her."

He stared with eyes full of wonder.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Then, throwing her head to one side, she laughed, so that Sergius
himself would scarcely have known it from the laugh of the
free-hearted, jesting Marcia of other days.

"Oh, my father, you a Capuan and a man learned in the ways of women!
It is pitiful--this littleness of your knowledge. Come, tell me now,
as to a pedagogue, what is it that leads a woman to all places, through
all dangers?"

"Surely, my child, it is love," said Calavius, vacantly. Then his face
took on an expression, first of furrowed surprise and then of gratified
vanity, an expression that brought the hot blush to Marcia's cheek,
even while she struggled to restrain her contemptuous mirth. His
manner changed at once to one of insinuating gallantry, which she
hastened to check before he should commit himself.

"What is it," she went on again, glancing down that he might not see
and read her eyes; "what is it that makes women love men? What, if not
strength and courage? I am a Roman, my father; but Roman men ar