"'Tis not enough," said the latter. "Your words have touched me.
To-night I shall send five thousand denarii to your palace."
"Well given, noble youth! It is generous. I like it in you. Say that I may have you to feast with me the first day before the ides—both of you. Say that I may have you."
"We humbly wait your commands," said Vergilius, kissing his hand.
"Now tell me, handsome son of Varro, have you found no pretty girl to your liking? Know you not, boy, 'tis time you married?" He held the hand of the young knight and spoke kindly, his cunning eyes aglow, and smiled upon him, showing his teeth, set well apart.
"Such an one I have found, good sire. Under the great purple dome there is none more beautiful, and with your favor and that of the gods I hope to make her my wife."
"Ah, then, I know her?"
"It is Arria, sister of Appius."
"And daughter of my beloved prefect. You are ambitious, my good youth."
The emperor stood a moment, looking downward thoughtfully. He felt his retreating chin. His smooth-shaven face, broad from bone to bone above the cheeks, quickly grew stern. His mind, which had the world for its toy and which planned the building or the treading down of empires, had turned its thought upon that little kingdom in the heart of the boy. And he was thinking whether it should stand or fall.
"It may be impossible," said he, turning to the young man. "Say no more to her until—until I have thought of it."