“Ay, I fear that thy trip with me will be one that thou wilt never wish to repeat.”
“Thou dost not fear that thy father’s persecutors will follow thee?”
“Nay; but no Roman of a distinguished family can be safe in these days of terror.”
“Thy father is not yet dead. Perhaps there may be hope,” she said in a tone of sympathy.
“Ah! there is no hope,” he gloomily responded.
“But hast thou not many friends?” she asked.
“One by one they have left me,” was his sad reply.
“Even Sulpicius?”
“Ay, even he.”
“But why, O my Sabinus?”