"Well," observed Cethegus, "until now it has done no particular good."
"That is only owing to my impatience. The herbs must be gathered during the new moon. I knew it well enough; but, hurried by your insistence, I tried it during the full moon, and, you see, it was not effectual."
Cethegus shrugged his shoulders.
"But yesterday," she went on, "it was new moon. I was not idle with my golden scissors, and when he drinks now----"
"A second Locusta! Well, my comfort is Camilla's beautiful eyes! Does she know of your arts?"
"Not a word to her! She would never suffer it. Silence! She comes!"
The girl entered in great excitement; her oval cheeks were red; a plait of her hair had got loose, and floated over her lovely neck.
"Tell me," she cried, "you who are wise and experienced, tell me what to think! I come from the boat. Oh, he has never loved me, the haughty man! He pities, he is sorry for me! No, that is not the right word. I cannot explain it." And bursting into tears, she hid her face upon her mother's neck.
"What has happened, Camilla?" asked Cethegus.
"Very often before," she began, with a heavy sigh, "an expression played about his mouth, and filled his eyes, as if he had been deeply offended by me, as if he had to forgive, as if he had made a great sacrifice for me----"