‘Preserve her, Prefect; I care little for myself if I am assured of her safety. Do this for me, I adjure you; for I have spared nothing in your service. Pray and entreat him, and if he be still pitiless, do as I did, and find the means of providing her with a secret weapon of freedom. She will bless you as I will—promise me, Prefect, in mercy to her—to us both! The gods only know what agony of mind is mine. The torture of thinking of the pure, sweet girl in the power of those wretches above us—to imagine her shrinking in their foul, pitiless hands—oh!’ The young man shook his clenched fists and then buried his face in his hands. His distress, and the poignant groan which closed his speech moved his commander’s heart, albeit not over sensitive in such matters. ‘My best efforts shall not be wanting,’ he replied. ‘Think better of it. It is early yet, but as soon as Caesar is stirring, I will put this matter right, depend upon it—why, I cannot do without thee.’ Martialis uttered his thanks, and, after some more questions in connection with his mission to Rome, the Prefect buckled the courier’s belt underneath his cloak and departed from the cell. The weary time lagged on until the prisoner once more rose from his recumbent position to greet his commander, who returned with a grave look on his dark handsome face. Martialis beheld it with a failing heart. ‘I have done what I could, and have gone as far as I could, with safety; but you have provoked him in no light fashion,’ said Sejanus, shaking his head. ‘And she?’ cried the young man. ‘Well, as to her, you may rest easy. She is no longer in the palace, but has been sent away to the household of Livia for safe keeping.’ ‘Thank heaven! And to you, thanks are all I am able to give for your good offices,’ cried Martialis. His voice choked—his lip trembled. The revulsion of feeling was too much for his overstrung nature to bear, and tears stopped his voice. ‘There is nothing due to me,’ said the Prefect; ‘the transfer was already accomplished; but, being where she is, she shall not fail of careful watching. The noble Livia, as you may have heard, becomes my bride ere long.’ ‘I knew it not, but wish you every joy,’ said Martialis, yet without warmth; for he could not help recalling to his thoughts the Prefect’s divorced wife Apicata, who had been frivolously put aside, no doubt to make way for his present betrothal. ‘It may be I have only a few hours to live, but the sting of death is gone since I know my Neæra is safe. Tell her, Prefect, that my last thoughts were of her and for her.’ ‘Humph, Caesar is ruffled without doubt, but he does not make away with my Pretorians so easily,’ said Sejanus, with a proud curl of his lip; ‘you may leave your last will and bequest over for a space yet.’ ‘It is all in your hands, Prefect,’ returned the other.