“Do not mention that,” answered Lygia, “and do not speak of it to Ursus.”
“Could I be revenged on him for defending thee? Had he been a slave, I should have given him freedom straightway.”
“Had he been a slave, Aulus would have freed him long ago.”
“Dost thou remember,” asked Vinicius, “that I wished to take thee back to Aulus, but the answer was, that Cæsar might hear of it and take revenge on Aulus and Pomponia? Think of this: thou mayst see them now as often as thou wishest.”
“How, Marcus?”
“I say ‘now,’ and I think that thou wilt be able to see them without danger, when thou art mine. For should Cæsar hear of this, and ask what I did with the hostage whom he gave me, I should say ‘I married her, and she visits the house of Aulus with my consent.’ He will not remain long in Antium, for he wishes to go to Achæa; and even should he remain, I shall not need to see him daily. When Paul of Tarsus teaches me your faith, I will receive baptism at once, I will come here, gain the friendship of Aulus and Pomponia, who will return to the city by that time, and there will be no further hindrance, I will seat thee at my hearth. Oh, carissima! carissima!”
And he stretched forth his hand, as if taking Heaven as witness of his love; and Lygia, raising her clear eyes to him, said,—
“And then I shall say, ‘Wherever thou art, Caius, there am I, Caia.’”
“No, Lygia,” cried Vinicius, “I swear to thee that never has woman been so honored in the house of her husband as thou shalt be in mine.”
For a time they walked on in silence, without being able to take in with their breasts their happiness, in love with each other, like two deities, and as beautiful as if spring had given them to the world with the flowers.