The interior was fitted with shelves, on which was displayed a stock of pottery of a kind for which Surrentum was noted. It was not upon these, however, that the rapt eyes of the soldier rested, but upon the tall, lithe figure of a girl, who was busily engaged in taking the articles down and dusting them. Her back being toward him, he entered the shop with a stealthy step and stood behind her without her knowledge. Pausing, for a moment, to gaze upon the figure and the glossy coils of the luxuriant brown hair of the unconscious girl, he bent down and whispered in her ear the name ‘Neæra!’ She started violently, and the bowl, which she was wiping, fell from her fingers and shivered with a crash on the floor. ‘Oh, sir, is it you?’ she murmured. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes fell. ‘Yes, Neæra, it is I—but only for a few niggard moments. I am on my way back to Rome. ’Tis six weeks since I saw you, Neæra—you look pale! have you fared well?’ ‘Quite well,’ was the brief, constrained reply. ‘And your father and mother?’ ‘Both are well—they are within if you will be pleased to see them.’ She moved as if to go to the interior of the house, but he laid his hand gently on her arm and detained her. ‘In a moment, Neæra—do you wish to be rid of me?’ She gave a hasty, timid glance into the street, and he led her aside into a recess which was less overlooked. ‘You neither look at me nor speak, Neæra—are you displeased to see me? Would you rather have had the weary six weeks prolonged into twelve?’ She raised her head and looked at him with an appealing expression in her beautiful gray eyes, but, in a brief moment, her gaze fell once more. ‘Still you do not say whether I am welcome or not, Neæra?’ he persisted. ‘Spare me from an answer, I pray you,’ she replied, in an almost inaudible tone. His swarthy cheeks flushed with a yet deeper colour, and he drew himself up. ‘As you will,’ he returned; ‘but if your answer would be “Nay,” say it without hesitation or fear; for I would have the truth from your heart, even at the expense of a little courtesy.’ Her agitation increased, and her fingers worked nervously with the dusting cloth she held. Those fingers, though stained and roughened with toil, were slenderly and delicately formed. He took them in his own, and, in spite of her attempt to withdraw them, kept them in his grasp. ‘What has happened, Neæra?’ said he, looking into her downcast face. ‘Has anything that I have done angered you, or rather, that I have left undone, since I have been chained to duty in yonder island for six weeks? It is long indeed, but we must reflect that had the Prefect no business with Caesar then our meetings would be far seldomer. To Caesar and Prefect I owe the happy chance of seeing you, and on them for a while still depend future opportunities. But what is troubling you, Neæra? You are pale and worn—what has happened?’ ‘Nothing but reflection—ah, sir, have pity on me—it was better not to have returned at all.’