“Nay; he appeared anxious only to leave,” she replied.
“And Lygdus?”
“His face remained stolid during the most critical moments.”
“Ah! Said I not that he was trustworthy? He shall be well paid for his performance.”
“Ah, my lover, I feel a heaviness in my breast, and my head pains me.”
“’Tis but the excitement, Livilla. But I must hasten to the Palatine Hill! Thou shalt see me on the morrow. Fare thee well, my love!”
“Happy omens be thy speed, O my lover,” said Livilla, kissing him.
As he left, the noise of a crying child was heard. It was one of the little twins, who, awakening and feeling lonely, wished for a soothing hand to caress him. Livilla hastened to the little boy and patted him gently. He whispered, “Father, father,” and fell peacefully asleep. She stood there some time, oppressed and tormented by her thoughts. Finally she buried her face in the covers of his little bed and broke into smothered sobs. So did her mother find her, and so was her mother deceived into believing that those tears were the tears of a loving and sorrowing wife.
Chapter IX
HAVING said farewell to Psyche, Gyges stood in deep depression, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared within the grim walls of the camp. Clenching his hands and shaking his head with a profound sigh, he walked away. At first, not knowing where to go, he wandered aimlessly. A confused aggregation of thoughts surged through his mind,—thoughts that were filled with horrible forebodings. He could think of no plan of action. As Gannon had been perplexed by the words of Livilla, and as Alcmaeon and Hera had been troubled by Gannon’s message, so Gyges was now harassed by the same dreadful doubts concerning Lygdus. The manner in which Gannon had communicated with his family made Gyges confident that the message was written when Gannon was under grievous restraint. The words “Have done wrong” sounded in Gyges’ ears like the wail of a crushed spirit. “The poor lad was in the depths of despair when he wrote that,” thought Gyges. “But how could he fall from the camp? He did wrong, he was imprisoned—ye gods! Can it be possible that he was murdered? Ay; no one ever falls from the roof of the camp at midnight! He was thrown! O Gannon!—poor, poor lad! What was thy crime?”