“You are downcast indeed,” said Domitia.
“And because downcast, I have been brooding over your troubles, little sister-in-law. Come! I did something for your poor Lamia,—I made him consul, and I will do more. Can you be patient and tarry till my strength is restored? I shall return from my family farm in rude health, I trust, and by the Gods! the first matter I will then take in hand will be yours. I know what my brother is. By Jupiter Capitolinus! if Rome should ever have him as its prince, it will weep tears of blood. I know his savage humor and his sullen mind. No, Domitia, you cannot be happy with him. A cruel wrong was done you, and when I return from Cutiliæ I will right it. You shall be separated!”
She threw herself at his feet.
He smiled, and withdrawing from her clasp, said:—
“I will do more than that for your very good friend, in whom you still take such a lively interest. I shall find means to advance him to some foreign post—he knows Antioch, I will give him the proconsulship of Syria and Cilicia, and so move him away from Rome. And then—” he took a turn, looked smilingly at Domitia, and said,—“I do not see that you need mope at Gabii. You know Antioch; you were there for some years. It is, I believe, not well for a governor to take his wife with him; she has the credit of being a very horse-leech to the province. But I can trust thee, little woman! There, no thanks, I seek mine own interest, and to protect our divine images and the new gilding from the rasp of that tongue. That is the true motive of my making this offer. Do not thank me. On my return from Cutiliæ you may reckon on me.”
Then hastily brushing away her thanks, and evading her arms, extended to clasp him, he walked from the terrace.
“Euphrosyne!” cried Domitia, “did you hear! The comet has reached its extreme limit, it is turning—it is drawing to the light—to hope. Happiness is near—ah!”
In her excitement she had struck her jewel-case that stood on the marble balustrade, and sent it, with all its costly contents, flying down the precipice into the thronged lanes at the back of the forum in a glittering rain.
“Ye Gods!” gasped Domitia, “the omen! O ye Gods! the bad omen.”
“Lady,” said Euphrosyne, “all is not lost”