CHAPTER IV.
THERE IS NO STAR.
A quarter of an hour had elapsed since Corbulo entered the peristyle of the villa, when the young man Lamia came out.
He was still pale as death, and his muscles twitched with strong emotion.
He glanced about him in quest of Longa Duilia, but that lady had retired precipitately to the gynaikonitis, or Lady’s hall, where she had summoned to her a bevy of female slaves and had accumulated about her an apothecary’s shop of restoratives.
Domitia was still in the garden, playing with the kid, and Lamia at once went to her, not speedily, but with repugnance.
She immediately desisted from her play, and smiled at his approach. They were old acquaintances, and had seen much of each other in Syria.
Corbulo had not been proconsul, but legate in the East, and had made Antioch his headquarters. He had been engaged against the Parthians and Armenians for eight years, but the war had been intermittent, and between the campaigns he had returned to Antioch, to the society of his wife and little daughter.
The former, a dashing, vain and ambitious woman, had made a salon there which was frequented by the best society of the province. Corbulo, a quiet, thoughtful and modest man, shrunk from the stir and emptiness of such life, and had found rest and enjoyment in the company of his daughter.