Her lips pouted a little, but she left the room with a light step.
The firm, determined mouth of the man quivered, and the moisture dimmed his deep-set eyes. He passed his hand over his massive brow and gave a deep sigh.
‘Wife!’ he said briefly, ‘I am going to Rome.’
‘To Rome!’ echoed Tibia fearfully, for the mention of the great city always loaded her simple rustic mind with a sense of mystery and danger.
‘Ay, to Rome,’ rejoined Masthlion; ‘the time has come when I must try and find your brother, if alive. Silo will give me a passage in his trader—’tis about his time to be touching here Tiberward.’
CHAPTER II.
On the following day, in Rome, about the seventh hour, or noon, a small party descended the slope of the Janiculan Hill toward the Tiber.
Though not included in the more famous cluster of the seven hills across the river, which formed the heart of Rome, the Janiculum, with its long straight ridge running nearly north and south, was the greatest in altitude, and commanded the noblest and most extensive view of the city itself, as well as the loveliness of the surrounding plain, as far as the circling Apennines beyond.