He kissed her lips, and looked calmly on the excitement which followed his extraordinary interruption into the inviolable presence of the Emperor. Confused exclamations and cries broke forth. A convulsive movement ran through the throng like the tossing of forest boughs in a sudden gust of wind. Each one stared with astonishment on the Pretorian garb, the splendid form, the dark, stern, handsome face, flushed and damp with extreme exertion and emotion. The name of Martialis flew from lip to lip. Under the wing and eye of their Imperial patron himself, the indignant expressions of his shocked creatures were many and loud, but, beyond these safe demonstrations of just resentment of the unparalleled audacity of the intruder, there seemed to be no disposition to proceed to a more forcible proof of their zeal. An armed, desperate man, who had more than held his own with the first gladiators and athletes of the capital, was not to be rashly interfered with. Thus the clatter of tongues and perturbation of gesture eddied and tossed within its own agitated circle for a few moments, without overflowing toward the tall person of the offender, who stood confronting them, motionless, yet watchful and resolute, with his left arm thrown round the waist of the young girl. ‘Yes, they are in no hurry to begin—they know it will cost them dear,’ muttered Martialis grimly, with vigilant eyes on those nearest him, and a meaning hitch of his belt which brought his sword hilt nigher to his hand. From him to Caesar all glances roved. Tiberius had recovered his attitude and composure from his first start of astonishment and alarm. On his countenance rested a dark, lowering look, which no one, who knew him, saw without vague uneasiness. Asca, whose instructions were without privilege to any one, was the most to be pitied. He shook with dread, and his visage, full of consternation, hovered between his Centurion and his Emperor. On the former he bent reproachful glances, whilst the aspect of the latter filled him with terror. ‘So please you, Caesar, it was no fault of mine,’ he broke out, after the first few moments of confusion were dying away. ‘The Centurion will bear me witness, that he broke past my guard ere it was possible to prevent him.’ ‘The man is right,’ said Martialis calmly; ‘he is in no way to blame. This maiden is my betrothed bride—I come to claim her. She has been dragged from her home by ruffians. I pray you, Caesar, of your clemency, to let me give her safe conduct back again.’ Zeno leant over his master and whispered in his ear. The frown did not quit the face of Tiberius, but he appeared to reflect. Martialis perceived the hesitation and took heart.