ave so much to give to your
country."

There was a moment of silence. Then said the emperor: "Be merry. 'Tis
not for long."

"'Tis a thousand years!" said she, sadly.

He was fond of the young, and her frank innocence appealed to all best
in the heart of the old emperor. He turned to greet the Lady Lucia.

"Come with me, son of Varro," said Arria, taking the arm of her lover
and leading him away. "It will soon be to-morrow."

"And I am acquitted?" So spoke the emperor.

"You are condemned to the company of my mother," said Arria, quickly.

She wore a tunic of the color of violets, with not a jewel. Now she
led her lover to a heap of yellow cushions in the triclinium.

"Dear Vergilius," said she, turning to him with a serious look as they
sat down; "tell me again--say to me again how you love me." She held
his hand against her cheek and her eyes looked into his.

"Oh, my beloved! I have thought of naught else since I saw you. I
have heard your pretty feet and the rustle of your tunic in my dreams;
I have felt the touch of your hands; every moment I have seen your
face--now glowing with happiness, now white and lovely with sorrow.
And, dear, I love its sorrow--I confess to you that I love its sorrow
better than its happiness. I saw in your sad eyes, then, a thing
dearer than their beauty. It told me that you felt as I feel--that you
would live and, if need be, die for the love of me."

The girl listened thoughtfully, and moved close to her lover; he took
her in his arms. She had dreamed of many things to say, but now she
only whispered to him, her lips against his ear, the simple message: "I
love you, I love you, I love you." Then: "But I forgot," said she,
pushing him away, a note of fear in her voice. She straightened the
folds of her tunic, and drew the transparent silk close to her full,
white bosom. It was all unconscious as the trick of a wooing bird.

"And what did you forget?" he inquired.

"That you are you, and a man," said she, sighing. "In some way it
is--it is such a pity, I dare not suffer you to caress me. And
yet--and yet, I do love it."

"And your lips," said he, embracing her, "they are to me as the gate of
Elysium!"

"It may be we are now in the islands of the blest and know them not,"
she whispered.

She tried to draw herself away.

"I will not let you go. Indeed, I cannot let you go."

"And I am glad," she answered, with a little laugh, her hand caressing
his br