“It comes from Hymettus,"[40] replied Aurelius, who was somewhat disconcerted by the lady’s airs and manners. “My friend here, the worthy Herodianus, procured it at Panormus.”
“Ah!” said Octavia, raising a polished emerald[41] mounted in gold to her eye, for she was short-sighted: “Your friend understands the subject, that I must confess—do you not think so, Claudia my love?”
The young lady answered with vague abstraction, for some minutes she had sat lost in thought. She had hardly touched the delicacies that had been set before her, and she now silently waved a refusal to the slave who offered the much-praised honey. Even the vigorous struggle in which Herodianus was engaged with an enormous lobster[42] failed to bring a smile to her lips, and yet her expression had never been brighter or more radiant. Once and again her eyes rested on the face of the young Batavian, who was engaged in such eager conversation with her mother, and then they returned to the loop-hole in the cabin roof, where the pane of crystal[43] shone like a diamond in the sunshine.
Octavia was talking of Rome, while Herodianus entertained Baucis with an account of Menander’s[44] comedies; thus Claudia could pursue her day-dream at her pleasure. She was in fancy again living through the events of the last hour—she pictured herself in the small open boat tossed on the angry waves; far away across the seething waters she saw the tall trireme—saw it tack to enter the bay. It was all vividly before her. And then the moment when the slave flung the rescuing rope! who was the man who stood, calm and proud, leaning over the bulwarks, undisturbed by the wrath of Nature? She remembered exactly how he had looked—how at the sight of that noble figure, which seemed as though it could rule the storm, a sudden sense of safety had come over her, like a magical spell. Then, when she found herself on board! At first she had felt ready to sob and cry like Baucis; but the sound of his voice, the wonderful look of gentle strength that shone in his face, controlled her to composure. Only once in her life had she ever felt like this before; it was two or three years since, when she was out on an excursion to Tibur[45] with her illustrious father. Their Cappadocian horses[46] had shied, reared, and then galloped off like the whirlwind. The driver was flung from his seat—the chariot was being torn along close to the edge of a towering cliff—her father had seized the floating reins just in time, and quietly saying: “Do not be frightened, my child,” in five seconds the horses were standing still as if rooted to the spot. The feeling she had had then, had to-day been vividly revived—and yet, how dissimilar were the two men in age, appearance and position!—It was strange. And once more she glanced at the face of their host, which was glowing with animation as he talked.
Suddenly the head oarsman’s time-marking hammer ceased; the bright spot of light cast by the sun through the glass skylight on to the panelled wall, described a brief orbit and then vanished; the vessel had swung round and was at anchor.
“Madam,” said Aurelius to Octavia, “allow me to offer you my services. We Northmen rarely use litters,[47] still—on the principle that a wise man should be ready for all emergencies—Herodianus has provided my galley with that convenience.”
“And the litters are already awaiting your commands on deck,” added the freedman.
“You have surpassed yourself, Herodianus! Well, then, whenever it is your pleasure....”
“Then it is settled,” said Octavia, going to the door. “For a few days you will be my guest.”
“For as long as you will allow,” Aurelius would have said; but he thought better of it and only bowed in answer.