Longer and longer stretched the shadows of the towers across the court of the palace, into which she was gazing. All at once she was roused by the firm footsteps of a man; Cethegus stood before her. His countenance was cold and dark, but icily calm.
"Cethegus!" cried the distressed woman, hurrying towards him; and would have taken his hand, but his coldness repulsed her.
"All is lost!" she sighed, stopping short.
"Nothing is lost. Calmness is all that is wanting--and promptness," he added, looking round the room.
When he saw that he was alone with her, he put his hand into the folds of his toga.
"Your love-philtre has done no good, Rusticiana. Here is another; more potent. Take it," and he thrust into her hand a small phial made of dark-coloured lava-stone.
She looked into his face with anxious suspicion.
"Do you all at once believe in magic and charms? Who has mixed it?"
"I," he answered, "and my potions work."
"You!" a cold shudder ran through her frame.