out the
stain of a Roman centurion's even being _carried_ away before the
Gauls."

"That will be an easy task, judging by the news we receive each day. I
wish I felt as certain of the safety of the Republic as I am that my
honour shall be satisfactorily vindicated."

He spoke bitterly, but she went on without taking note of his meaning.

"These are auspicious words, my Lucius. You will regain your honour;
father will once more receive you into his favour, and, by that time, I
shall doubtless be old enough to marry,--perhaps too old,--but, no, I
must not wait so long as that. Perhaps I shall have married some one
else by the time you are worthy of my favour."

"More probably I shall have ceased to care for the favour of living men
and women."

"Truly? And you think you will have to die? Perhaps you will be a
Decius Mus, and stand on the javelin and wear the Cincture Gabinus; and
then I shall mourn for you and hang so many garlands on your tomb that
all the shades of your friends will be mad with jealousy--"

"Marcia, is it possible for you to be serious?"

He was pale with suppressed passion, and, as he spoke, he stepped
forward and laid his hand upon her wrist.

She sprang back and half raised a light staff she carried, while her
face flushed crimson.

"I will be more serious than will please you," she said, "if you please
me as little as you do now. Learn, I am not your wife that you should
seek to restrain me, and it is quite possible that I never shall be."

"You speak truly," he said; "it is quite possible that no woman shall
be a new mother to the house of Fidenas--that our name shall die in me.
So be it; and may the gods only avert the evils that threaten the
Republic, nor look upon one of the race of the Trojan Segestes as an
unworthy offering."

Bending his head in respectful salutation, he turned toward the
entrance hall.

Marcia stood silent beside the fountain, and her face clouded with
thought. The sound of her lover's footsteps grew fainter and fainter.
She started forward as if to follow him. Then she stopped and
listened. The noise of the street had drowned their echoes; the door
had creaked twice on its pivots. He was gone. Then she called,
"Lucius!" but there was no answer. Her eyes drooped with a little
frown of regret, but in a moment she turned away laughing.

"Never mind. He cannot do anything very desperate yet, and I will
treat him better next time--perhaps."