Contained in the rooms was a small library of books, and to these Plautia at last turned her attention, when everything else had yielded its full amusement. She lacked the fanciful and imaginative powers which are enslaved by books. She had no resources, no world within to draw upon, like the solitary dreamer or student, who usually finds his own company the most entertaining. Her temperament was practical and her habits active. The resources of the great city, with its variety and bustle, had never failed to provide occupation to fill her time; but here, cooped in the corner of a house, on an island, the situation was wholly different, and already loomed as a serious matter. She read for some time, and then was wearied. Her own thoughts had remained passive too long, and began to reassert themselves very actively to the subjection of her author. The book was finally tossed aside, and its reader betook herself to pacing ceaselessly and aimlessly through the rooms, with her hands behind her back and her eyes bent on the floor. She gave full rein to her thoughts, and they sought the deep‐worn rut of their former fierce torrent, as naturally as the quivering needle‐point seeks the pole. Her brows grew dark and heavy once more. Suddenly she shut herself up alone. * * * * * * * There was a brighter gleam in the air when, after a time, she came forth. The small windows, high up, seemed more radiant, and outside, in the peristyle, there was even hazy sunlight. The storm had broken. The place seemed to stifle her. Catching up a cloak she sought the garden. The heavy gale had dropped into a steady, brisk breeze, fresh, bracing, and salt. The low, hurrying pall of gray vapours had melted away, and, far overhead, the clouds were luminous. They were shredding and breaking fast into feathery masses. Here and there already peeped the deep blue of the heavens. The sea still tumbled its foamy billows far below, but, from the great elevation of the villa garden, the agitation was scarcely noticeable. It seemed like a huge plain thickly flecked with snow, across the surface of which moved gleaming halos of radiance shooting down from the sunny rifts overhead. Plautia, on reaching the door previously described as fixed in the high wall, turned to the palace attendants and bade them bring the means to open it. They were visibly struck with embarrassment, but a tall handsome girl, who seemed to have authority over the rest, was constrained to find an answer, as the brow of the lady began speedily to blacken over. She said she would be obliged to go to the steward, having no authority herself in the matter. Plautia bade her do so, and she hurried away accordingly. Presently she returned with the reply that the steward was absent in attendance on the Emperor, and that nothing could be done until his return. Plautia turned sharp on her heel, without a word, and continued her walk.