‘Being discursive they might probably contain something to interest you, in the current affairs of the city we love so well.’
‘Humph!’ she said drily, with her gaze still fixed down the garden. ‘You are speaking for yourself. You are growing thin and pale, Afer, and absence from the city you love so well is trying you. You are fretting after the airy height of the Esquiline, and the view of the housetops from your own portico.’
‘You, who have left it so recently, can so far afford to mock me,’ he retorted sarcastically. ‘I will plead guilty to the charge in order not to spoil the jest.’
‘It is not worth another word.’
‘My correspondent tells me that Rome is wondering what is passing in the island here.’
‘It is not surprising in the city, when one considers the power and importance of the absentees—including yourself!’ said she.
‘Of course,’ responded Afer, growing paler; ‘nor, at the same time, must such a powerful factor in the Imperial destinies as the beauty of Plautia be omitted.’
Plautia smiled and showed her pearly teeth, and the face of the knight grew whiter than ever.
‘It seems that, surprised as the poor exiles on this island were at your appearance, the citizens are even more mystified at your disappearance there. It is totally inexplicable. Rumour says you have been stolen, murdered, and so on’ (Plautia’s smile deepened as she caught the fiercely suppressed tremor of anger in his voice); ‘or translated to the companionship of the immortals, after the fashion of old,’ he continued; ‘that is even believed in. One individual, at least, is inconsolable, frantic, desperate—mad, if you like. Searching day and night—wandering sleepless like a spectre.’
‘Only one, Afer—do they tell you of only one?’ she said ironically.