CHAPTER XIX.
Afer had gauged with tolerable accuracy the depth to which he had stirred the heart of Plautia, in spite of her efforts to counterfeit indifference. Indeed, with the actual knowledge he possessed of her feelings towards the Centurion Martialis, he could scarcely be misled.
‘She will go straightway and lock herself up alone, to give it all vent,’ he thought to himself, with a grin, ‘and quite right that she should know the flavour of what she deals so liberally to others.’
What the knight thus shrewdly conjectured was actually the course which Plautia followed. No sooner had she quitted him, than, impatiently refusing all the attentions of her women, she closed the door upon them, and gave a full rein to the feelings which choked her.
Furious resentment against the betrayer of her confidence was uppermost; and reflection on the consequences of publicity was maddening to one whose intense pride had never been thwarted in any particular. She would now be haunted by the covert smile, the half-hidden sneer and giggle, though masked by the obsequious court and service which hung upon her nod. She shook her clenched fists in dull fury.
It was the nervous dread of this which formed the obstacle to her burning desire of making personal inquiries into the extent of the evil. To watch the smile on a menial’s face in answer to her questions, would be truly insupportable; but, more than all, would her pride disdain to betray the least token that the matter gave her concern, even to the extent of a simple question. The thoughts, therefore, which remained to comfort her in some degree, may easily be perceived. Her fevered mind was filled with the form of the imagined author [pg 313]of her trouble. ‘Coward, coward!’ she muttered from time to time, in the accents of the deepest rage and contempt, though once or twice it fell whispered from her lips, like an echo of reproach and despair, rounded by a half-hysterical sob.
But all such passing weaknesses were swallowed up in the overpowering resentment which thirsted for revenge. What mischief had already been done it was impossible to remedy. Nothing was left to her but a counter scheme, which might eventually enable her to cry quits. With this intention in full possession of her mind she paced the room, yet was without a sufficiently plausible idea to work upon, when the customary invitation to the supper-table of Caesar arrived. Her first impulse was to remain in seclusion, but, on second thoughts, she reproached herself with want of courage, and determined to boldly accept her position at once. The hour for the meal being near at hand, she summoned her attendants for the business of her toilet.
There was seldom much change in the party at the Imperial supper-table. Plautia, therefore, met the familiar faces, amongst whom were Afer and the Prefect. The task of appearing utterly indifferent and unobservant when, at the same time, the breast is unusually susceptible and sick with nervous dread, is so difficult as to be seldom or never acted with success. The result with Plautia was, that her bearing became haughty and stiff to an unusual degree. Her distempered mind appropriated every smile and jest as in some way connected with herself. Her disordered fancy even reached to the slaves behind her back, furnishing them with imagined nods and winks, and sotto-voce jokes. The exclusive demands on her vigilance by this morbid sensitiveness naturally engendered an abstraction from the conversation of the company, which was particularly noticeable, in contrast to her customary mood. As she was moreover, somewhat pale, Tiberius expressed a fear that she was unwell. Assuring him to the contrary, she made a spasmodic attempt to recover her sprightliness, but, unable to sustain it, she gradually relapsed into her former mood. No further notice, however, was taken.
When the business of eating was over, and the conversation began to lag somewhat, Zeno, whose watchfulness had a [pg 314]care for everything, leaned over the Imperial couch and whispered in his master’s ear. Tiberius nodded.
‘’Tis an artisan from Surrentum, friends, who desires to show me something—some extraordinary discovery. It may amuse us to see what it is,’ said the Emperor.