The steward’s face assumed an expression of deeper gravity than ever—of palpable sorrow indeed. His fingers restlessly played with the hem of his cloak during a few moments of silent hesitation, and his eyes moved uneasily from one object to another, until at last they rested, with an appealing look, upon the face of Plautia herself.
‘To do as you tell me,’ he said,—‘to return to the palace, leaving you here, would prove my instant disgrace and ruin.’
‘What have I to do with that? I sought not to have anything to do with you or your master.’
‘I crave your pardon for speaking of my unworthy self,’ said Zeno humbly, in a lower tone. ‘It is indeed of little consequence what happens to me; but if Plautia will understand me, what I sought to impress upon her was, what she probably fully comprehends already, that Caesar’s word must be fulfilled at the cost of anything and everything if need be. I dare not return without you.’
‘Which means that my desires were never meant to be [pg 230]consulted—that your orders were to take me, willingly or unwillingly,’ said Plautia disdainfully. ‘Why did you not deliver your mandate at once, without all this false mockery of deference?’
‘Alas, no, by your leave, gracious Plautia, neither mandate nor mockery!’ cried the Greek, who seemed struck with horror at the idea. ‘I should deserve to die like a dog if my clumsy tongue had caused you to harbour such a thing in your mind. I should be flung from the cliffs had I dared. Ah no, therefore, I beseech you in mercy to your servant, dismiss those fatal words. Deference and homage are the natural prerogatives of Plautia; and is it possible, that a nameless slave could make a mockery of what will flow sincerely from Caesar himself? No, it cannot be!’
‘Psaw!’ uttered Plautia, impatiently turning from the histrionic abjuration of the steward. ‘Whom have you with you?’
She swept to the door, and, unlatching it, looked out upon the dismal landscape. A raw, cold wind dashed in her face; the trees tossed and waved, and the foam-streaked sea and sky seemed to mingle in a cheerless, dismal hue of gray. Under the lee of the cottage was a covered litter set down, whilst a dozen or more slaves were huddled close by, making the most of their rough woollen cloaks and the shelter of the friendly wall.
The half-closed eyes of the Greek followed her, and his lips curved in silent laughter. As she stepped back he sprang to close the door for her.
‘A few slaves only,’ he said apologetically.