As he whimpered and hoped he had not said as much as might bring him harm, Afer swept past him, with a contemptuous exclamation, and left the house. He pursued his way through the town, toward the villa of Mercury, which crowned the hill overlooking the north Marina. Climbing the ascent, he entered the gates of the palace, and sought the Prefect in an inner apartment, with the freedom of a favoured confidant and friend. Sejanus was alone and busily engaged in writing. He nodded to a couch, and bent his attention again to his writing. His stylus continued to move busily along for about a quarter of an hour, during which period Afer’s attention was divided between his own thoughts and schemes and the absorbed countenance of the minister bent over his work. Then the latter laid down his stylus, and, reading over his epistle, closed it up and sealed it. Then he put it in the bosom of his dress, and left his seat.
‘Well,’ said he, stretching himself and yawning, ‘now I am at liberty; so let me hear of your business. You are late, so I presume you have already followed up last night’s folly. In what sort of a humour did you find the fair Plautia this morning after her repulse, and in what sort of humour did your tact and eloquence leave her?’
‘I have not seen her,’ replied Afer.
‘Wherefore! You are remiss, Afer,’ rejoined Sejanus, with a slight wrinkle of his brows; ‘it was somewhat im[pg 234]portant, as I hinted. You ought to have gone at your earliest.’
‘I have been. I have come straight away.’
‘How then—is she sick and bedfast?’
‘No; the matter has been taken out of our hands, and all trouble spared to us—she has already taken flight.’
‘Ah!’ said the Prefect, with great gusto, ‘that’s well—nothing could be better! Sensible woman!’
‘But she has not gone alone, I find.’
‘How then—has my Centurion changed his mind?’ demanded the commander, with a tone of disgust.