LAVINIA.
(hurt) Pray God then my pride may never become a false pride. (She turns away as if she did not wish to continue the conversation, but softens and says to him with a smile) Thank you for trying to save me from death.
THE CAPTAIN.
I knew it was no use; but one tries in spite of one’s knowledge.
LAVINIA.
Something stirs, even in the iron breast of a Roman soldier!
THE CAPTAIN.
It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women die, and forgotten them in a week.
LAVINIA.
Remember me for a fortnight, handsome Captain. I shall be watching you, perhaps.
THE CAPTAIN.
From the skies? Do not deceive yourself, Lavinia. There is no future for you beyond the grave.
LAVINIA.
What does that matter? Do you think I am only running away from the terrors of life into the comfort of heaven? If there were no future, or if the future were one of torment, I should have to go just the same. The hand of God is upon me.
THE CAPTAIN.
Yes: when all is said, we are both patricians, Lavinia, and must die for our beliefs. Farewell. (He offers her his hand. She takes it and presses it. He walks away, trim and calm. She looks after him for a moment, and cries a little as he disappears through the eastern arch. A trumpet-call is heard from the road through the western arch).
CENTURION.
(waking up and rising) Cohort of the tenth with prisoners. Two file out with me to receive them. (He goes out through the western arch, followed by four soldiers in two files).
Lentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side with a little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers, dressed in the extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender, fair-haired, epicene. Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive skinned, not a talker.