Aurelian looked for the moment as if he would willingly have hurled Fronto, and his temple after him, to Tartarus. But the bold man heeded him not.
'Shall I,' he continued, 'say what it is that thus ties the hands of the conqueror of the world?'
'Say what thou wilt.'
'Rome says, I say it not—but Rome says, 'tis love.'
'What mean they? I take you not. Love?'
'Of the princess Julia, still so called.'
A deep blush burned upon the cheek of Aurelian. He paused a moment, as if for some storm within to subside. He then said, in his deep tone, that indicates the presence of the whole soul—but without passion—
'Fronto, 'tis partly true—truer than I wish it were. When in Syria my eye first beheld her, I loved her—as I never loved before, and never shall again. But not for the Emperor of the world would she part from young Piso. I sued, as man never sued before, but all in vain. Her image still haunts the chambers of my brain; yet, with truth do I say it, but as some pure vision sent from the gods. I confess, Fronto, it is she who stands between me and the will of Heaven. I know not what force, but that of all the gods, could make me harm her. To no other ear has this ever been revealed. She is to me god and goddess.'
'Now, Aurelian, that thou has spoken in the fullness of thy heart, do I hold thee redeemed from the invisible tyrant. In our own hearts we sin and err, as we dare not when the covering is off, and others can look in and see how weak we are. Thou canst not, great Cæsar, for this fondness forget and put far from thee the vision of thy mother, whom, in dreams or in substantial shape, the gods sent down to revive thy fainting zeal! Let it not be that that call shall have been in vain.'
'Fronto, urge now no more. Hast thou seen Varus?'