“As a prisoner, my lady?”
“Ay,” replied Agrippina, sadly.
“How did she die?” Psyche asked in a soft low voice.
“She was starved to death,” replied Agrippina, in a tone of anguish.
After they had entered the house, the officer removed from Agrippina’s wrists the manacles that had wounded them. A small supply of food was given the prisoners, and then they were shown their sleeping-rooms,—a large room with one window that looked out upon the sea, connected with a smaller room which had no window. Both were plainly furnished with couches and cathedrae. The large room was assigned to Agrippina; the smaller to Psyche. The poor prisoners were soon resting after their terrible journey from Rome.
The morning after the arrival of the prisoners, Agrippina reclined on a couch near the entrance of the house. This building was located on a desolate part of the island. There were no trees to afford inviting shade, and the prisoners were therefore obliged to retreat into the house to escape the fiery rays of the sun. Psyche sat on the tiled floor near her mistress.
“Tell me again thy name, my child,” said Agrippina, with her melancholy eyes resting on Psyche’s beautiful face.
“Psyche, my lady.”
“Thou art a Greek?”
“Ay, my lady.”