oot and ancle mine eyes ever looked
upon. I am sure too that her face is beautiful, though she is closely
wrapped in a long white veil. Her voice, though exquisitely sweet and
gentle, is full of a strange command, half proud and half persuasive. I
could not, for my life, resist her bidding."

"Well! well! admit her, though I would fain be spared the trouble. I doubt
not it is some soft votary of Flora; and I am not in the vein for such
dalliance now."

"No! Paullus, no! it is a Patrician lady. I will wager my freedom on it,
although she is dressed plainly, and, as I told you, closely veiled."

"Not Julia? by the Gods! it is not Julia Serena?" exclaimed the young man,
in tones of inquiry, blent with wonder.

But, as he spoke, the door was opened once more; and the veiled figure
entered, realizing by her appearance all the good freedman's eulogies. It
seemed that she had overheard the last words of Arvina; for, without
raising her veil, she said in a soft low voice, full of melancholy pathos,

"Alas! no, Paullus, it is not your Julia. But it is one, who has perhaps
some claim to your attention; and who, at all events, will not detain you
long, on matters most important to yourself. I have intruded thus, fearing
you were about to deny me; because that which I have to say will brook no
denial."

The freedman had withdrawn abruptly the very moment that the lady entered;
and, closing the door firmly behind him, stood on guard out of earshot,
lest any one should break upon his young lord's privacy. But Paullus knew
not this; scarce knew, indeed, that they were alone; when, as she ceased,
he made two steps forward, exclaiming in a piercing voice--

"Ye Gods! ye Gods! Lucia Orestilla!"

"Aye! Paul," replied the girl, raising her veil, and showing her beautiful
face, no longer burning with bright amorous blushes, her large soft eyes,
no longer beaming unchaste invitation, but pale, and quiet, and suffused
with tender sadness, "it is indeed Lucia. But wherefore this surprise, I
might say this terror? You were not, I remember, so averse, the last time
we were alone together."

Her voice was steady, and her whole manner perfectly composed, as she
addressed him. There was neither reproach nor irony in her tones, nor
anything that betokened even the sense of injury endured. Yet was Arvina
more unmanned by her serene and tranquil bearing, than he would have been
by the most violent reproaches.

"Alas! alas! what shall I say