Chapter 2 - Page 2

the grave senator, Aulus Valerius Maro by name.

"Madame," said he, stepping forward and bowing low, "I offer my heart
and my fortune, and the strength of my arms and the fleetness of my
feet and the fair renown of my fathers."

The Lady Lucia turned to her daughter with a look of inquiry.

"Brave words are not enough," said the fair Roman maiden, smiling, as
her eyes fell.

Then came the effeminate Gracus, in head-dress and neckerchief, frilled
robe and lady's sandals. He was of great sires who had borne the Roman
eagles into Gaul.

"Good lady," said he, "I would give my life."

"And had I more provocation," said Arria, raising a jewelled bodkin, "I
would take it."

Now the splendid Antipater, son of Herod the Great, was up and
speaking. "I offer," said he, "my heart and wealth and half my hopes,
and the jewels of my mother, and a palace in the beautiful city of
Jerusalem."

"And a pretty funeral," the girl remarked, thoughtfully. "Jerusalem is
half-way to Hades."

The Roman matron turned, and put her arm around the waist of the girl
and drew her close. A young man rose from his chair and approached
them. He was Vergilius, son of Varro, and of equestrian knighthood.
His full name was Quintus Vergilius Varro, but all knew the youth by
his nomen. Tall and erect, with curly blond locks and blue eyes and
lips delicately curved, there was in that hall no ancestral mask or
statue so nobly favored. He had been taught by an old philosopher to
value truth as the better part of honor--a view not common then, but
therein was a new light, spreading mysteriously.

"Dear Lady Lucia," said he, "I cannot amuse you with idle words. I
fear to speak, and yet silence would serve me ill. I offer not the
strength of my arms nor the fleetness of my feet, for they may fail me
tomorrow; nor my courage, for that has never been tried; nor the renown
of my fathers, for that is not mine to give; nor my life, for that
belongs to my country; nor my fortune, for I should blush to offer what
may be used to buy cattle. I would give a thing greater and more
lasting than all of these. It is my love."

The girl turned half away, blushing pink. All had flung off the mask
of comedy and now wore a look of surprise.

"By my faith!" said the poet, "this young knight meant his words."

"A man of sincerity, upon my soul!" said the old philosopher. "I have
put my hope in him, and so shall Rome. A lucky girl is she, for has he
not riches, talent, honor, temperance, courage, and the beauty of a
god? And was I not his teacher?"