, I adjure you! whither would you go, Lucia?"

"Far hence! far hence, my Paullus. Where I may live obscure in tranquil
solitude, where I may die when my time comes, in peace and innocence. In
Rome I were not safe an hour!"

"Tell me where! tell me Lucia, how I may aid, how guard, console, or
counsel you."

"You can do none of these things, Paullus. All is arranged for the best.
Within an hour I shall be journeying hence, never to pass the gates, to
hear the turbulent roar, to breathe the smoky skies, to taste the
maddening pleasures, of glorious, guilty Rome! There is but one thing you
can do, which will minister to my well-being--but one boon you can grant
me. Will you?"

"And do you ask, Lucia?"

"Will you swear?" she inquired, with a faint melancholy smile. "Nay! it
concerns no one but myself. You may swear safely."

"I do, by the God of faith!"

"Never seek, then, by word or deed, to learn whither I have gone, or where
I dwell. Look! I am armed," and she drew out a dagger as she spoke. "If I
am tracked or followed, whether by friend or foe, this will free me from
persecution; and it shall do so, by the living lights of heaven! This,
after all, is the one true, the last friend of the wretched. All hail to
thee, healer of all intolerable anguish!" and she kissed the bright blade,
before she consigned it to the sheath; and then, stretching out both hands
to Paullus, she cried, "You have sworn--Remember!"

"And you promise me," he replied, "that, if at any time you need a friend,
a defender, one who would lay down life itself to aid you, you will call
on me, wheresoever I may be, fearless and undoubting. For, from the
festive board, or the nuptial bed, from the most sacred altar of the Gods,
or from the solemn funeral pyre, I will come instant to thy bidding.
'Lucia needs Paullus,' shall be words shriller than the war-trumpet's
summons to my conscious soul."

"I promise you," she said, "willingly, most willingly. And now kiss me,
Paullus. Julia herself would not forbid this last, sad, pious kiss! Not my
lips! not my lips! Part my hair on my brows, and kiss me on the forehead,
where your lips, years ago, shed freshness, and hope that has not yet died
all away. Sweet, sweet! it is pure and sweet, it allays the fierce burning
of my brain. Fare you well, Paul, and remember--remember Lucia Orestilla."

She withdrew herself from his arm modestly, as she spoke, lowered her
veil, turned, and was gone. Many a day and