Cunning Cestus to put such a question to a young provincial girl. It was for nothing but the mischievous curiosity of watching the sparkle in her eye, and the deep heave of her bosom at the very mention of such a thing. ‘Will you go back with me for a time?’ said the voice of the tempter. ‘No one would take better care of you than I: no one knows the city and its ways better than I—every day for weeks could I show you new sights.’ But Neæra could only say no, and shake her head in a despairing way. ‘I would not be happy to leave my father.’ ‘Let him come too.’ ‘It would be useless to ask him.’ ‘For your sake he would come.’ ‘For the sake of a pleasure trip?—No! Besides he has been there, and not long since returned.’ ‘And was not that on your account? What he has done once can he not do again? You know right well that he is never so happy as when you are pleased. His own enjoyment would be as great as yours.’ ‘It is out of the question,’ said Neæra firmly, though her cheeks flushed; and Cestus, who had seated himself on a stool, regarded her with evident, though restrained enjoyment. ‘Yes, it is quite true he has been to Rome on your account and no other,’ he continued, ‘and it is just as true, in my mind, that he will go there again on your account.’ Neæra raised her eyes to his and the wondering expression was sufficient demand for explanation without speech. ‘There is no need for me to take you. You will go there by and by in better company, and your father and mother, mark my words, will follow to be near you.’ Her cheek gathered a faint colour again, but an expression of deep sadness stole over her face, and she turned her head aside. The Suburan pored keenly upon the perfect loveliness of her profile, which showed in singular relief under the white light streaming upon it from the open‐ fronted shop. He studied it intently, and, to judge from the expression of his countenance, with great satisfaction. Not altogether with the ordinary gratification which naturally arises from the contemplation of beauty, but, in this case, a particular satisfaction proceeding from the powerful recollections which her face inspired. A similar sweetness, a similar pure symmetry and nobility, was recalled to his mind, and he admired, therefore, with a double pleasure. ‘Have no fear, your father will follow,’ said Cestus assuringly. ‘One need not be an augur to foretell that.’ ‘Alas, I think it is only I myself that give him this trouble,’ replied Neæra, with a heavy sigh. ‘Not at all!’ responded Cestus, never telling a lie with more pleasure. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter, but it isn’t that. It will all come right—it isn’t sunshine every day. Wait till I’m gone—I only want to see one person before I go, and perhaps you will tell me how long I shall have to wait.’ ‘Who do you mean?’ said Neæra absently. ‘Why, the man who will, before long, take you to Rome—the Centurion.’