‘And does that testimony still incriminate the worthy nephew?’ ‘It does.’ ‘Ah!’ said Tiberius, with grim irony, ‘I am more and more interested. I will send for the aged Fabricius and his friends, and administer this matter myself. Where in the town is the old man to be found?’ ‘He is to be found, or to be heard of, at the villa of his friend Asinius, whom he proposed to visit.’ ‘I foresee an interesting scene—no time must be lost,’ said Tiberius, turning to the door. ‘And my betrothed, Caesar—is she well?’ said the lover. ‘For aught I know—they had my orders to tend her well. They would scarcely disobey.’ CHAPTER III. The following day had been fixed by Tiberius for the formal betrothal of his daughter‐in‐law Livia to the Prefect; and with the intention of dining and passing the night at the villa Neptune, so as to be in readiness for the ceremony, the Imperial lady set out thitherwards, from her own palace, attended by a numerous retinue. A special command had been received to include the unhappy Neæra among the latter. The past few days had wrought a change in her appearance. Her form had wasted, and her face was thin and wan with excess of mental affliction. Much as Martialis had suffered, she was even more overwhelmed at the agonising sight of her lover and protector torn away by the soldiers, to what, she concluded, would be an ignominious punishment, or perhaps death. After a sleepless night of horror, she was transferred to the dwelling of Livia, where she was well cared for. This important lady was verging toward middle age; was of somewhat masculine appearance, and as haughty and full of ambition as her intended husband. But, being duly acquainted with Neæra’s story, even her proud nature could not help unbending with pity. The girl’s beauty also impressed her, and she placed her in attendance on herself, and caused her to lay aside her poor homely garments for more suitable apparel. The Prefect, when he came, was curious to see her and bent admiring eyes on her. ‘It is no wonder Martialis should dare so much,’ he said gallantly, not to say grandiloquently, after his fashion before women. ‘He is the best of my Centurions—but have courage; I will put this matter straight. He is something to me as well as to you. They have penned him up, but I will have him at liberty ere long. He knows you are safe, so take heart.’