With both hands now he took her own in his, not roughly, but with infinite tenderness, and cunningly contrived that two hot tears should fall upon her fingers.
"My gracious lord!" she whispered, "my life is at thy service."
"Accept the husband whom I propose for thee ... and my life will be safe.... Refuse to obey me in this and to-morrow the blood of Cæsar will be upon thy head...."
"My lord...."
"Wilt obey me, Augusta?"
"My gracious lord ... I do not understand," she pleaded; "have pity on my ignorance ... trust me but a little further...."
"I cannot tell thee more," he said with a sigh of patient weariness, "but this I do tell thee, that my life and with it the future of our House—of the Empire—now lie in thy hands. The abominable traitors would make a tool even of thee. 'The husband of Dea Flavia Augusta,' they say, 'shall succeed the murdered Cæsar!'"
She uttered a cry of horror.
"Their names," she murmured, "tell me their names."
"I know but a few."