Chapter 10

Arria met them in the atrium. She saw not the great father of Rome,
but only her lover, and ran to him with a little cry of delight.

The playful emperor mounted a chair and stood looking down at them.

"I am so small here in the presence of this great king," said he, as
they turned to him. "Were my head as high as the ceiling I am sure I
should not be seen."

"What long, good father?" said Arria, bowing low.

"Love! 'Tis better, I have heard, to be ruler of one than of many.
You give him kisses, little tyrant, and me not a glance."

He looked down, smiling at the pretty maiden.

"Because 'tis he I love," said she, her cheeks red with blushes, her
eyes upon her sandals. "You--you have been cruel."

"I am sadly out of favor," said Augustus, playfully, stepping to the
floor. "If the great king dared, I am sure he would cut off my head,
now. Let him not condemn me without trial. Remember the law of Rome."

"You are sending my love away." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"And happy are you, sweet girl, to have so much to give to your
country."

There was a moment of silence. Then said the emperor: "Be merry. 'Tis
not for long."

"'Tis a thousand years!" said she, sadly.

He was fond of the young, and her frank innocence appealed to all best
in the heart of the old emperor. He turned to greet the Lady Lucia.

"Come with me, son of Varro," said Arria, taking the arm of her lover
and leading him away. "It will soon be to-morrow."

"And I am acquitted?" So spoke the emperor.

"You are condemned to the company of my mother," said Arria, quickly.

She wore a tunic of the color of violets, with not a jewel. Now she
led her lover to a heap of yellow cushions in the triclinium.

"Dear Vergilius," said she, turning to him with a serious look as they
sat down; "tell me again--say to me again how you love me." She held
his hand against her cheek and her eyes looked into his.

"Oh, my beloved! I have thought of naught else since I saw you. I
have heard your pretty feet and the rustle of your tunic in my dreams;
I have felt the touch of your hands; every moment I have seen your
face--now glowing with happiness, now white and lovely with sorrow.
And, dear, I love its sorrow--I confess to you that I love its sorrow
better than its happiness. I saw in your sad eyes, then, a thing
dearer than their beauty. It told me that you felt as I feel--that you
would live and, if need be, die for the love of me."

The girl listened thoughtfully, and moved close to her lover; he