wd attractions Cornificia
staged to keep Pertinax held in her toils.

That Cornificia did exercise a sway over the governor of Rome was
undeniable. He worshiped her and made no secret of it. But she held
him by a method diametrically contrary to that which rumor, stirred by
Flavia Titiana, indicated; Cornificia's house was a place where he
could lay aside the feverish activities of public life and revel in the
intellectual and philosophical amusements that he genuinely loved.

But Livius loathed her. Among other things, he suspected her of being
in league with Marcia to protect the Christians. To him she represented
the idealism that his cynicism bitterly rejected. The mere fact of her
unshakable fidelity to Pertinax was an offense in his eyes; she
presented what he considered an impudent pose of morality, more impudent
because it was sustained. He might have liked her well enough if she
had been a hypocrite, complaisant to himself.

She understood him perfectly--better, in fact, than she understood
Marcia, whose visits usually led to intricate entanglements for
Pertinax. When she had sent the slaves away and they four lay at ease
on couches in the shade of three exotic potted palms, she turned her
back toward Livius, suspecting he would bring his motives to the surface
if she gave him time; whereas Marcia would hide hers and employ a dozen
artifices to make them undiscoverable.

"You have not brought Livius because you think he loves me!" she said,
laughing. "Nor have you come, my Marcia, for nothing, since you might
have sent for me and saved yourself trouble. I anticipate intrigue!
What plot have you discovered now? Is Pertinax its victim? You can
always interest me if you talk of Pertinax."

"We will talk of Livius," said Marcia.

Leaning on his elbows, Livius glared at Caia Poppeia, Marcia's
companion. He coughed, to draw attention to her, but Marcia refused to
take the hint. "Livius has information for us," she remarked.

Livius rose from the couch and came and stood before her, knitting his
fingers together behind his back, compelling himself to smile. His
pallor made the hastily applied cosmetics look ridiculous.

"Marcia," he said, "you make it obvious that you suspect me of some
indiscretion."

"Never!" she retorted, mocking. "You indiscreet? Who would believe it?
Give us an example of discretion; you are Paris in the presence of
three goddesses. Select your destiny!"

He smile