‘They are not the dress of a poor man’s child. Did such a thought not strike you when you saw them at first.’
‘Yes; I asked him how she came by them, and he said her father had been very poor, so poor that a rich family had befriended him out of charity, and had dressed her in some cast-off clothes.’
‘That’s true! I told her so,’ said Cestus.
‘The memory of a liar should always be good,’ cried Afer; ‘this vagabond’s memory is only equalled by his lies—they are all of a prodigious nature. Yet I doubt if they are as monstrous as the credulity which sucks them in.’
‘What more remains to ask these people, Fabricius? Question them if you will,’ said Tiberius.
‘I have nothing to add to what your highness has ably said,’ replied Fabricius, rising from his seat. ‘I have already satisfied myself, by inquiries in Surrentum, that this woman is worthy, honest, and estimable in the opinion of the townspeople, and that her husband was likewise esteemed for the same qualities. Her word, therefore, is to be trusted, and it bears out the assertions of her misguided brother. I will tell you that some weeks ago I received a letter, saying that my grandchild was alive, and enclosing a piece of ribbon, which lies there before you. It is of unusual pattern. I went to the child’s room, and there found some more of the self-same fabric. I had been imposed upon many times, but this was the first news I had heard, which seemed to strike to my heart with the weight of conviction. It was like a message from the grave. I was deeply moved. A few nights ago this man appeared before me in my house, and related what you have heard, with the exception of the vile trick by which my own life was attempted. He brought these things as proofs of his words. I can find no flaws in his evidence, and I accept it. So please you, Caesar, here are two slaves of my household who served the mother and grandmother of this child. The memory of the mother should be strong within them. Let them say. Look upon this maiden, Natta and Verrus, and answer truly, as your hearts tell you, if she recall the image of the dead Fabricia, my daughter, your mistress.’
‘We have already looked upon her, master,’ replied Natta for both. ‘She is too near alike not to be the child of the dead Fabricia.’
‘We are all agreed as to the marked resemblance to the gem,’ observed Caesar.
‘I am satisfied; my heart—everything tells me she is my Aurelia,’ said Fabricius fervently.
‘Then it becomes Afer’s turn, for which he burns, to refute the charge which has been brought against him,’ Tiberius continued.