'Yes. I thought thou didst know of it.'
'No. When did she die?'
'She died on the day Saronia abjured her faith and was disgraced. The shock of joy killed her.'
'This, too, is sad.'
'Why so? Her loss will be felt by Lucius only. He is old, and will mourn briefly. Besides, he will have his hands full for awhile. Come, cheer up, man; thou shalt go with me to Rome, and I will make thee merry. Thou hast never really lived yet. I am away. Don't forget. Remain home to-morrow to receive me. I will come before thou art required at the arena; and, should I not, then do not stay. Be in time; there will be a goodly show, but—Saronia shall not be there. Hear ye, Chios?'
'What dost thou mean?'
'No more than I have said. Good-bye, good friend.'
And Varro was gone.
'What a strange being!' exclaimed Chios. 'What does he mean? I cannot understand him. I believe he means good, and knows more than he says, and intends to help. Some great mystery attaches itself to those warlike preparations. I must be patient until to-morrow, desist from going to the Temple to-night to rescue her. He goes to Rome. It is well known he is a staunch friend of Nero. Lucius is not. What can this great fleet of many thousand armed men mean? To-morrow will solve the problem, for what is to be done will be done quickly.'