"For all in all a darling of the gods who to-day can climb the rocks with a firm step and to-morrow lies dreaming in the sunshine among flowers— for all in all a nature that has no equal and which lacks nothing, nothing whatever that constitutes a true woman excepting—"
"I know what I lack," cried Balbilla. "A strong man on whom I can depend, whose warnings I can respect. You, you are that man; you and none other, for as soon as I feel you by my side I find it difficult to do what I know to be wrong. Here I am, Pontius! Will you have me with all my moods, with all my faults and weaknesses?"
"Balbilla!" cried the architect, beside himself with heartfelt agitation and surprise, and he pressed her hand long and fervently to-his lips.
"You will? You will take me? You will never leave me, you will warn, support me and protect me?"
"Till my last day, till death, as my child, as the apple of my eye, as— dare I say it and believe it?—as my love, my second self, my wife."
"Oh! Pontius, Pontius," she exclaimed, grasping his broad, right hand in both her own. "This hour restores to the orphaned Balbilla, father and mother and gives her besides the husband that she loves."
"Mine, mine!" cried the architect. "Immortal gods! During half a lifetime I have never found time, in the midst of labor and fatigue, to indulge in the joys of love and now you give me with interest and compound interest the treasure you have so long withheld."
"How can you, a reasonable man, so over-estimate the value of your possession? But you shall find some good in it. Life can no longer be conceived of as worth having without the possessor."
"And to me it has so long seemed empty and cold without you, you strange, unique, incomparable creature."
"But why did you not come sooner, and so give me no time to behave like a fool?"