“Psyche—”
“Is she pretty?”
“Beautiful, my lady. She dances at the theatre.”
“I have seen her,” said Livilla. Seeing that Gannon was more at ease, she asked him, “Wouldst thou like to be a lady’s secretary?”
“I do not know, my lady.”
“Come, leave the service of Sejanus. I will pay thee more, and thy duties will be lighter. Come, take care of my correspondence.”
“I know not what to say,” answered Gannon, looking at her with an expression of surprise and anxiety. “To me the details of social life are unknown, and I am dull at learning. I like my master. The duty at the camp is more suitable for me than composing a lady’s letters.”
“My offer is always open,” said Livilla, still gazing intently at the handsome lad with her wonderful eyes. She noticed that while he looked at her his face became flushed. She tossed her head coquettishly, and smiling and extending her hand, said: “Do not be shy. Come nearer. Give me your hand.”
Gannon awkwardly approached. He placed his hand in hers, and feeling a slight pressure, fell on one knee and kissed her fingers. A fascination seemed to overcome him, and he slightly trembled. He raised his eyes, fearing a reproof; but the evil look which he met in her eyes frightened him. Her expression was one of triumph. Several times before she had tried to break through Gannon’s reserve. Now she thought her ends were accomplished. She exultantly raised him, and placing her face near his, murmured some inarticulate words that Gannon did not understand. He felt her breath on his cheek, and his first impulse was to kiss the lips so near his own. He hesitated, and hesitation brought with it fear. He drew back quickly and said, in a voice choked with emotion, “The answer, I pray thee.”