‘I have to crave your pardon, most gracious lady, for the untimely interruption to your sweet slumbers. But, alas! I have no option but to obey my instructions, which were to have a few words with you on behalf of Caesar.’ ‘I will come.’ She quickly enveloped herself in a loose mantle and stepped forth into the main apartment, where Tucca had lighted an oil lamp to assist the gray, uncertain light of dawn. The old man himself was down on his knees, vigorously blowing at a fire he had placed in a brazier on the hearth, whilst his wife was invisible in the depths of the sleeping box or crib, opening from the other end of the room. Zeno had withdrawn more into the centre, and saluted the appearance of Plautia with an obeisance of extreme deference. It partook of the profound humility offered to an oriental potentate, and had the dexterous Greek searched the world through he could not have found a more perfect incarnation of haughtiness than in the youthful beauty before him, who trod the earthen floor of the hovel in her deshabille, as if she were a Semiramis clad in splendour and stepping to her throne of state. She regarded him for a few moments with a gaze such as a sovereign might have fastened upon a trembling wretch waiting for judgment. Zeno, having recovered from his deep inclination, stood with his head slightly bent and his eyes cast down to the floor with an expression of respectful attention. He was of that race so notorious in the Imperial city for its matchless facility and address in framing its face for all occasions; and it cost him no more effort to play the lowly vassal to the imperiousness confronting him, than it did to assume the petty tyrant among the frightened scullions of his household. His dissimulation, at the same time, did not interfere with the indulgence of an amount of personal vanity before the eyes of a lovely woman. He posed his slender figure in its most graceful attitude, and turned his face in the best light for the display of its symmetrical beauty and soft complexion. ‘You are sent by Caesar to me?’ began Plautia. ‘I am, gracious lady; I am the steward of his household,’ replied Zeno, in his softest voice. ‘And a Greek?’ Zeno bowed. ‘Of Athens,’ said he. ‘You must be mistaken in coming here to me.’ ‘I was bidden to come to Tucca’s cottage and address myself to the noble Plautia, newly come from Rome,’ was the bland response. ‘Most strange! How could Caesar know my name and my presence here?’ ‘I know not, lady, nor seek to know.’ ‘I am a stranger to Tiberius in every way. There is no more about me and my business now, than there has ever been to concern him. What can he want with me?’ ‘What is in Caesar’s heart Caesar’s servants dare not seek to know. To hear is to obey. But the ruler of the world has a heart for every one of his subjects; why then should Plautia, one of the most beautiful, be surprised at receiving the Imperial notice?’