Some time before, her mother had informed her that the great Senator had asked her hand, but, after a conversation with her father she had been assured that negotiations would be dropped. This man, the meaning of the decoration of the rooms with gay Autumn blossoms of yellow and purple; this was to be her betrothal and she had not been told. In a flash, it was revealed to her that it was a result of her refusal to do homage to the gods that morning. Very well, she would suffer the consequences bravely. But, in the house to which she was to go, she would never bow down to the idols, no matter what the result might be. She signed the contract, submitted to the Senator her hand, and sat by his side at the table, decorated his head with the marriage garland and received from him another wreath of fine white orange-blooms.
Her father saw, with sorrow, that her face was deathly white.
There was eating and drinking and merriment, in which Virgilia, in spite of her sadness, tried to join. It did not occur to her to protest or question her father's judgment. A daughter must accept the husband chosen for her; but she wished with all her heart that it might have been Marcus, the son of Octavia, who was sitting by her side, wearing the bridal garland, rather than this feeble old man. Yet, even the thought was disloyal and unmaidenly. She dismissed it.
The merriment was at its height, and Aurelius began to feel that Virgilia would not suffer much from this necessary solution of a difficult problem, when the curtain of Persian silk at the door was suddenly torn aside and the Old One entered.
Very slowly, leaning on her staff, bowed half over, and with white hair streaming down to her shoulders, she approached the table. Claudia screamed when she saw her and the Senator trembled. People were very superstitious in those days, and the Old One was known to be a prophetess.
Aurelius left his place.
"What dost thou desire, Mother?" he asked.
She lifted to him eyes filled with a strange light. The gray mantle she wore fell away from her skinny arm as she raised it high.
"Woe! woe to the house of Lucanus!" she cried shrilly. "Your feasting shall be turned into sorrow, your rejoicing shall be changed into mourning and the voice of weeping shall be heard, a mother weeping for her daughter, a father bemoaning the loss of his children, a bridegroom grieving over a lost bride. Woe! Woe!"
Virgilia and her mother were clinging to each other. The Senator was pallid and shaking with fear.