a
power with the people, and the people have great need of them. What
shall become of Rome when the gods fall?"

"It shall sicken," said the philosopher, with a lift of his hand. "You
that are young may live to see the end. It shall be like the opening
of the underworld. Our republic is false, our gods are false, and,
indeed, I know but one truth."

"And what may it be?" said another.

"We are all liars," he quickly answered.

"O tempora!" said the Lady Lucia. "It is an evil day, especially among
men. When Quinta Claudia went with her noble sisters to meet the
Idaean mother at Terracina they were able to find in Rome one virtuous
man to escort them. But that was more than two hundred years ago."

"If one were to find him now, and he were to go," said the philosopher,
"by the gods above us! I fear he would return a sad rake indeed."

"'Tis not a pleasant theme," said the Lady Lucia, by way of introducing
another.

"The dear old girl!" said young Gracus, in a low tone, as he turned to
the senator. "Her hair is a lie, her complexion is a lie, her lips are
a lie."

"And her life is a lie," said the other.

"You enjoyed your walk?" asked the mother of Arria, addressing
Vergilius.

"The walk was a delight to me and its end a sorrow," he answered.

"And you obeyed me?"

"To the letter." It is true, he thought, we are a generation of liars,
but how may one help it? Then, quickly, a way seemed to suggest
itself, and he added: "Madame, forgive me. I do now remember we had a
word or two about love; but, you see, I was telling the legend of this
coin. It has the power to show one if he be loved."

"By tossing?"

"By tossing. Head, yes; the reverse, no."

"Let me try." She flung it to the oaken beams and it fell on the great
rug beside her.

"Madame, the hand is up," said Vergilius. "I fear it is not
infallible."

"Let me see," she answered, stooping gravely to survey the coin.
Something passed between her and her pleasure, and for one second a
shadow wavered across her face.

"It is Death's hand, of course," she remarked, sadly. "Love is for the
young and death is for the old."

"Old, madame! Why, your cheeks have roses in them."

"Good youth, you are too frank," said she, with a quick glance about
her. "Did the coin say that she loved you?"

"It did."

"And what did she say?"

The young man hesitated.

"Come, you innocent! Of course, I knew that you would talk of nothing
but l