“Near Capri?” she asked, thinking of the emperor in that beautiful retreat.
“Ay, my lady.”
She said no more, but gazed vacantly at the sea, lost in gloomy meditation.
“Art thou weary, my lady?” asked Psyche, when she saw Agrippina close her eyes.
“Ay, my child; and thou?”
“I too sink under the burden of fatigue. We have travelled fast and far.”
“Ay; we have made the entire journey from Rome in one day. Truly such speed was shown by our ancestors only when the enemy was in our land. I know not why we were brought here in such haste. Slaves are taken from Terracina to Rome in two days. A descendant of the Divine Caesar is hurried over the same road in one day. Oh that the gods should permit such brutality!”
Again they relapsed into silence. The sun had now disappeared.
The eastern heavens were heraldic blue, merging into a paler blue at the zenith and gradually melting into infinite gradations of purple, pink, and red, as they approached the horizon, where the clouds had now become iridescent, like mother-of-pearl. Towards the land the water was an intense dark blue; towards the west it reflected the celestial colors of the dying day. The first star—the boldest eye of the night—sparkled like a vibrating point of fire. On such a night maidens delight to rest on the hearts of their lovers and breathe the peace of happiness, mothers rejoice in caressing their children. But the emotions of the poor prisoners were not stirred by the influences of this lovely night; instead, they were smothered by the darkness that enshrouded their souls.
When they arrived at the island, night had already descended upon the waters. They soon disembarked, and were conducted to a small, one-storied house. Agrippina said to Psyche, “’Twas here my mother passed her last days, my child.”