He ever found the contrast, morally and physically, to be wellnigh complete. As before, but now with tenfold more vividness, his mind spanned the intervening distance and dwelt upon the fair girl he had left but a short time before. It acted like the sudden transition from the oppressive glow of a tropic dream steeped in narcotic odours, to the waking freshness and cool relief of a breezy dawn. Neæra’s image, ever ready to his invocation, rose before him in its changeless purity and sweetness, its noble dignity and calmness, and purged his spirit of the grosser intoxication which burdened it. While yet his mind was agitated by such fleeting emotions and reflections, it was vaguely burdened with pain and dread, on account of the vehement nature of the self‐willed woman before him. He was simple and chivalrous; and as he thought how she, who could command so much, had dared everything to follow him to this spot for the sake of an unfortunate attachment, his heart ached with pain and pity—all the more as she was doomed to disappointment. The only return she could accept he was unable to make, and the fact of his entire innocence brought him no comfort. Such was the main current of his thoughts in the short pause which followed on the passionate words of Plautia. In his simple, soldier way, he would rather have been summoned to face a legion single‐handed than be under the necessity of administering the _coup‐de‐grace_ to the dearest hopes and wishes of a woman. Her posture was at the moment half‐reclining against his breast. ‘You are cruelly silent,’ she murmured in his ear. ‘Shame! Would you have me say more?’ ‘You have done me great honour—great and unexpected,’ he answered, stammering with embarrassment; ‘but I was not prepared to meet such a surprise. If I am confused there is an excuse for it. I thought—and yet, no—I do not know. That I should have held such place in your regard is almost beyond my belief, and I should be little surprised to discover that Plautia is beguiling a tedious evening with a frolic. If so, I shall laugh with as much zest as herself.’ ‘O brave frolic for a shallow wit!’ she cried vehemently; ‘and how am I to go about to convince thee, if thou hast not already been convinced? Do I merit no worthier words than those, Martialis?’ ‘I made no assertion,’ said the Centurion. ‘If I am answerable for my utterances just for the time, I probably meant no more than to point out more effectively my feelings of astonishment and incredulity as to what has befallen me this night.’