LAVINIA. Then I must not come back either. A woman has to be braver than a soldier. THE CAPTAIN. Prouder, you mean. LAVINIA. (_startled_) Prouder! You call our courage pride! THE CAPTAIN. There is no such thing as courage: there is only pride. You Christians are the proudest devils on earth. LAVINIA. (_hurt_) Pray God then my pride may never become a false pride. (_She turns away as if she did not wish to continue the conversation, but softens and says to him with a smile_) Thank you for trying to save me from death. THE CAPTAIN. I knew it was no use; but one tries in spite of one’s knowledge. LAVINIA. Something stirs, even in the iron breast of a Roman soldier! THE CAPTAIN. It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women die, and forgotten them in a week. LAVINIA. Remember me for a fortnight, handsome Captain. I shall be watching you, perhaps. THE CAPTAIN. From the skies? Do not deceive yourself, Lavinia. There is no future for you beyond the grave. LAVINIA. What does that matter? Do you think I am only running away from the terrors of life into the comfort of heaven? If there were no future, or if the future were one of torment, I should have to go just the same. The hand of God is upon me. THE CAPTAIN. Yes: when all is said, we are both patricians, Lavinia, and must die for our beliefs. Farewell. (_He offers her his hand. She takes it and presses it. He walks away, trim and calm. She looks after him for a moment, and cries a little as he disappears through the eastern arch. A trumpet-call is heard from the road through the western arch_). CENTURION. (_waking up and rising_) Cohort of the tenth with prisoners. Two file out with me to receive them. (_He goes out through the western arch, followed by four soldiers in two files_). _Lentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side with a little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers, dressed in the extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender, fair-haired, epicene. Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive skinned, not a talker._ LENTULUS. Christians, by Jove! Let’s chaff them. METELLUS. Awful brutes. If you knew as much about them as I do you wouldn’t want to chaff them. Leave them to the lions. LENTULUS. (_indicating Lavinia, who is still looking towards the arches after the captain_). That woman’s got a figure. (_He walks past her, staring at her invitingly, but she is preoccupied and is not conscious of him_). Do you turn the other cheek when they kiss you? LAVINIA. (_starting_) What? LENTULUS. Do you turn the other cheek when they kiss you, fascinating Christian?