His eyes softened, and suddenly bending down, he pressed his lips against her withered forehead. She burst into an agony of tears.
‘Bring her back—bring her back,’ she moaned.
‘It is too strange; but gentle or simple she is still Neæra to me. Oh, the accursed tyrant—I shall bury my dagger in his foul heart if she be harmed—even if they rend me in pieces after! But I may yet save her, though I strike her dead to do it—yes, I may yet be in time!’
He laughed a short dry laugh, and his eyes shone with a terrible light as he flung his long heavy cloak aside, the less to impede his motions.
‘Tell Caesar she belongs to the best blood in Rome,’ said Cestus. ‘He will not dare to harm her—I will hasten to the city.’
‘He recks of nothing, idiot—her family, quick!’
‘Fabricius of the Janiculum is her grandsire—she has only him.’
‘Fabricius! He lost a child—is this true?’
‘As you stand there!’
‘And how came you to know all this?’