“Psyche was to have danced her last time at the spectacles given by Nero.”
“Ay; but Elea danced well at the games given by Drusus,” said Sabinus.
“Elea cannot dance the rôles that Psyche used to portray. But does not Drusus marry shortly?”
“He marries this very day, Merope.”
“Who will his bride be?” she asked.
“Aemelia Lepida.”
“Ah! Wealth always marries wealth.”
“Ay, Merope; but wealth creates envy; envy leads to death and confiscations.”
“The Acropolis! The Acropolis!” shouted a sailor, pointing to a white speck that glistened like pure snow on one of the hills directly ahead. Springing to their feet, the passengers looked at that inspiring sight with the same eagerness with which a sibyl would gaze upon a sacred revelation.