"May I believe you?"
"My word for it, I ask nothing of her but a kind word," cried he, frankly offering his hand to his wife. Lucilla only touched it lightly with her fingers and said:
"Send me back to Rome. I have an unutterable longing to see my children, particularly the boys."
"It cannot be," said Verus. "Not at present; but in a few weeks, I hope."
"Why not sooner?"
"Do not ask me."
"A mother may surely wish to know why she is separated from her baby in the cradle."
"That cradle is at present in your mother's house, and she is taking care of our little ones. Have patience, a little longer for that which I am striving after, for you, and for me, and not last, for our son, is so great, so stupendously great and difficult that it might well outweigh years of longing."
Verus spoke the last words in a low tone, but with a dignity which characterized him only in decisive moments, but his wife, even before he had done speaking, clasped his right-hand in both of hers and said in a low frightened voice:
"You aim at the purple?" He nodded assent.