Plautia rose to her feet. Her cheeks were suffused with a sudden flood of crimson, and her bosom stirred her tunic with deeper and more rapid pulsations. A delicious tremor seemed to melt her natural stateliness of carriage. Her eyes, so full of haughtiness and will, encountering the calm gaze of the Pretorian, sank like a timid child’s, shaded beneath a deep sweeping fringe of eyelashes. A deadly sickness crept about the heart of Caius Martialis, for his senses, preternaturally sharpened, saw all. ‘Do you seek me?’ he demanded, scarcely able, or caring, to conceal the bitterness of his tones. The Centurion dropped his cloak from his shoulder and stepped forward, whilst, at the same time, Festus, the lawyer, glided from the room. The resemblance between the brothers was traceable in the mould of their features. But, whilst those of the soldier were scarcely so finely carved as were his elder brother’s, they were considerably more manly and decided. The expression of spirit and determination which was characteristic of his bronzed face and fearless glance, were less perceptible on the countenance of the civilian. The vigour and robustness of the younger eminently fitted him to press forward in the battle and strife of the world; whilst the characteristics of the elder were of a more delicate organisation, which seeks the calmer atmosphere and placid occupations of retirement and study. The personal appearance of the Centurion, which has already been alluded to, spoke for his habits. His commanding stature, rude health and strength and perfection of physical training were all at the service of the readiness and resource of mind which seemed to lie charactered in the glances of his eyes. On the other hand, the person of Caius was medium‐sized, and the signs of habitual ease, indulgence, luxury and pleasure, were only too plainly stamped on his face, to the deep injury of its native nobleness and delicacy. ‘Do you seek me?’ said the latter. ‘No—I seek the Prefect. Not at the camp, I was directed to follow him here. No porter in the lodge to tell me—no slave visible. I found a light here—if I have intruded I am grieved, but you paid no attention to my knock.’ ‘Sejanus has left some time ago—a long time.’ ‘Whither, then, Caius, do you know?’ ‘No—nor care—faith not I!’ was the careless and somewhat uncourteous answer. ‘You have travelled far?’ broke in Plautia’s voice; deeper, softer, and more melodious than hitherto. ‘I have, Plautia, and I trust the Prefect will not lead me much farther.’ ‘Whence have you come? You are fatigued—I see it in your face. You must, then, have ridden a prodigious distance; for your fame, as a horseman, has reached even me. You are a very centaur, so rumour tells me.’