Her face grew pale, and she half rose from the chair.
"Truly, I did not think about calling you back. It is terrible—all this—and it is my doing—"
"Then, if you wish, I shall lay it up against you," cried he, gayly, "unless you promise to be Caia in my house—"
"You are unfair to press me now and by such means."
"But it must be now," exclaimed the young man, springing forward and trying to catch her in his arms. "Do you not see I must leave you at once? Shall it be without a promise?"
The blush had turned again to little anger spots, as she evaded him.
"Very well," she said slowly. "I will be Caia where thou art Caius—"
Sergius' face shone with exultation, and his lips parted.
"I will be Caia," she resumed, "upon the day when Orcus sends back the dead from Acheron."
His expression of joy faded, and indignation took its place. Surely this was carrying light speech too far—and at such a time. Suddenly he realized that the dictator might already have ridden on, and disgrace have fallen upon a Sergius at the very beginning of the campaign.