And front the pack.—My sister, my twin-born,
Live thy sequestered life; and pray for me.
[Theodora goes.
Ah, gracer of our Roman mail! I hear
No smallest rumor that her passage makes,
Not one least vicious snarl or jeer the more.
I dare to dream Thou hast accepted this,
My true task in the world! By now, I think,
She leaves behind the fetid neighborhood;
A moment more, and her accustomed feet