“I cannot attend to your abracadabra,” said she, in reply to his request to be heard. “Look there. The Capitol is in flames, the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus blazes. I know what he wants—he has come begging. They all beg. I have no money. I am interested in the fire, the Revolution, and all that sort of thing.” “Lady Longa,” said Elymas, “There are moments that are turning points in every life. A great chance offers. Take it, or put it away forever.” “You worry me past endurance. What is it? Look! the flames are licking Jupiter in his chariot.” “If you will step aside I will speak. Not here.” Duilia with an impatient toss of her head and shrug of her shoulders, gathered up her garment with one hand, stepped to a distant part of the roof, and said, sulkily— “Well, what is this about?” “You know that the Præfect of Rome who supped at your house the other day is besieged in the Capitol.” “Well—this is no news.” “And that for security, lest they should be put to death by Vitellius or the soldiery, he took his children and his nephew there with him.” “So I have been told. That does not concern me. Why did he not take also his fat wife? she would have fed the flames.” “My lady—the Capitol cannot hold out another half hour, and then all within will be butchered.” “Can I help that? They all do it. This sort of thing happens in revolutions invariably. I cannot alter the course of the world.” “But, madam, the son of Vespasian, Flavius Domitianus has escaped through the Tabularium, by a little door into the Forum.” “He might have escaped by turning a somersault over the walls for aught I care.” “His life is in extreme jeopardy. If discovered he will be assassinated, most assuredly.” “Well, that is the way these things go.” “I have brought him hither—disguised as a priest.” “What!” The lady became rigid, eyes, mouth and nostrils. “What!” “He escaped disguised as a priest of Jupiter. As such, with veiled head he has passed unmolested, even through the ranks of the soldiery and people, inclined to tear him to pieces, for they are all on the side of the reigning prince.” “Domitian here! What a fool you are, Elymas. I’ll have you tossed off the roof, in punishment. By Hercules! you compromise me. If it be suspected that he is here, I shall have the house ransacked, and all my valuables plundered, and the Gods alone know what may become of me.” “That is true, lady, and you must run the risk.” “I will not,” said Duilia, stamping angrily on the concrete of the roof. “Is it not enough to have the house turned upside down with this detestable Saturnalia! Age of Gold indeed! Age of tomfoolery and upside-downedness. If my poor dear man had but done what he ought, there would have been none of these commotions, and I—well—I—I would have put down the Saturnalia.” “Madam, this is all beside the mark. Domitian, the son of Flavius Vespasian, whom the world has saluted Emperor, and sworn to, is under your roof as a suppliant.”