‘To the opposite shore? It must be—I will try to aid you,’ he began, with alacrity at the welcome change to action, however hazardous. ‘No!’ interrupted she; ‘to my lodging at the old wine‐grower’s hovel. I have brought you here to‐night from, perhaps, a more pleasing occupation. Accept my thanks for your patient indulgence of a foolish woman’s folly. More I cannot suffer you to undergo; much less the loss of your night’s repose, in the dangerous operation of smuggling me away from here, in direct opposition of your duty.’ ‘That is nothing,’ he returned. ‘It would be more to the point if I could impress upon you the danger of your sojourn here. I have been the unfortunate, although unwitting cause, of your presence here. That gives me grief enough without the fear of further evil. As soon as the moon sets, which will not be long, I——’ ‘No, Centurion, I will do as I have said. Be the consequences on my own devoted head—I care not. I absolve you from all blame on my account, therefore be at rest.’ ‘It is sorely against my will,’ he said sadly, for he could not but feel a new and softened regard for her as one result of the night’s experience. ‘It is in full accordance with mine,’ she replied; ‘nay, leave me to go alone, for it is but a few hundred yards. I wish it. Good‐night!’ She gathered her drapery around her, and, stepping out into the path, proceeded in the direction of Tucca’s dwelling with all her accustomed stateliness of gait. After her disappearance, the Pretorian yet lingered on in deep reflection. The soft seductive spell of her beauty, and the delicate perfumes of her person still lingered in his senses, and his mind was full to its uttermost with speculations on the fate of such passions as he had seen displayed that night. He pondered on the transformation of the haughty, unemotional lady of indolence, luxury, and refinement, into the daring, undissembling woman of a secret assignation; and tried to realise her despair by endeavouring to picture his own, had his love for Neæra been as misplaced. So, with a mind saddened and agitated, as to bode ill for his night’s slumber, he turned slowly away, at last, in the direction of the villa Jovis. When the sound of his footsteps had died away, there was some rustling in the thicket above the spot so lately occupied. Creeping cautiously downward over the rocky surface, a man reached the edge of the road, and, peeping out, satisfied himself that the coast was clear ere he stepped boldly forth. ‘’Tis all right, Prefect, the road is open—the play is over, and the actors have clean departed,’ he said aloud. ‘Then let us begone likewise, Afer, in the name of the furies,’ returned Sejanus ill‐temperedly enough, as he reached his companion and stretched his cramped limbs.