"I rejoice to see you again; what delight I shall find in the whirl of confusion that I hope to find at Lochias. You shall take me to see the artists, who are, no doubt, swarming in the old castle, as the architect Claudius Venator from Rome, who is to assist Pontius with his advice. But this Pontius, who carried out such fine works for Herodes Atticus, the rich Sophist, met me at his house, and will certainly recognize me. Tell him, therefore, what I propose doing. He is a serious and trustworthy man, not a chatterbox or scatter-brained simpleton who loses his head. Thus you may take him into the secret, but not till my vessel is in sight. May all be well with you."
"Well, what do you say to that?" asked Titianus, taking the letter from his wife's hand. "Is it not more than vexatious—our work was going on so splendidly."
"But," said Julia thoughtfully and with a meaning smile. "Perhaps it might not have been finished in time. As matters now stand it need not be complete, and Hadrian will see the good intention all the same. I am glad about the letter, for it takes a great responsibility off your otherwise overloaded shoulders."
"You always see the right side," cried the prefect. "It is well that I came home, for I can await Caesar with a much lighter heart. Let me lock up the letter, and then farewell. This parting is for some hours from you, and from all peace for many days."
Titianus gave her his hand. She held it firmly and said:
"Before you go I must confess to you that I am very proud."
"You have every right to be."
"But you have not said a word to me about keeping silence."
"Because you have kept other tests—still, to be sure, you are a woman, and a very handsome one besides."
"An old grandmother, with grey hair!"