“Domitia,” said he, “Do you know that there is a rumor about that Nero is not dead, but has fled to the Parthians, and that he will return?”
“You do not say so!” The girl’s color died away.
“I do not believe it. It cannot be. The sword of your father would not bite so feebly as to let him live. Yet the tale is circulating. Men are uneasy—expecting something.
“If he be dead and burnt, he cannot return.”
“No,” said Lucius, “he cannot return from the dead. And yet—there be strange rumors. Among the Christians, I am told, there has risen up a seer, who hath been taken with an ecstasy, and hath beheld wonderful visions. And this is reported, that he saw a beast arising out of the sea, having seven heads, and on each head a golden crown. And one of those heads, the fifth, received a death-wound. Then arose two other heads, and after them the wounded head arose once again and breathed fire and slaughter, and the second state was worse than the first.”
“But, Lucius, what can this signify?”
“They say it signifies the Empire of Rome, and that the heads are the princes, and the fifth head, that is wounded as unto death, but not slain, is Nero, and that after two have arisen, then he will return.”
Domitia shuddered.
“If he return, Lamia, he will not forget thee. Well, we will ourselves look behind the veils; that is better than hearing through others what some unknown prophet hath said. See, on the shore stands Elymas, calling us.”