Two days later, the long tragedy was ended. The heroic sufferer had gained her point and had starved herself to death. Her tragic sorrows were over and her triumph had come. She had conquered the emperor. Chapter XXIII In the peristyle of a small house not far from the Porta Capena, a little woman sings a happy song as she tends and gathers her flowers. A fountain adds its liquid sound to her pleasing melody. It is near sundown, and the peristyle is bathed in soft light reflected from a clear blue sky. In a corner of the corridor that surrounds the peristyle, a bright-faced lad lies upon a couch. A hunchbacked girl with long arms and slanting but kind face hands him a cup of water and moves silently away. The little woman takes a tuft of mignonette and gives it to the happy-faced lad, saying, “That will refresh thee after thy tired and anxious day.” “Thou art too kind, my lady.” “Do thy limbs pain thee less, Aldo?” “Ay, my lady,” replies the lad, anxious to appear better and stronger than he really is. “Cruelly did they torture thee, my Aldo.” “Ay; they were brutal. But they learned not from me my master’s hiding-place.” “Brave and heroic lad, thy silence saved us all.” “How I long for the stables at the Circus!” cries Aldo. “The horses my master trained at Casinum are the finest beasts that ever appeared at Rome. He will win the race this day!” “Thinkest thou so? ’Tis the first race he has run since he fled from the city with thee.” “Ah, my lady, he was not idle at Casinum. No one can equal my master. The horses may become frightened, but he will be able to hold them.” “Would that I were less nervous! I cannot look at the Circus without becoming faint. The race must soon be over.” “Nay, my lady; we have not heard the sound of victory.” “Ah, Aldo, I fear thy master has lost.” “Have no fear, my lady; the cheers will come.” The little woman begins to walk nervously around the corridor. Will he win? Will he lose? These are the questions that torment her mind. He had left her at noonday, filled with cheering hopes. He had kissed her and had said: “Ah, little heart, this night we ought to be far richer. I have the winning horses, and everything is propitious. A fair portion of the prize I will bestow upon Hermes if he but guides mine arms!” As the moments pass by, the little woman tears a flower which she holds in her hand. She stops again by Aldo and says, “He has lost!” Suddenly a faint sound is heard, gradually increasing, until a violent cheer rends the air. “He has won! he has won!” screams the little woman. “Nana! he has won!” The good, faithful old Nana comes into the corridor and adds her enthusiasm to that of her mistress. “By Hermes! said I not so, my lady?” cries Aldo, with tears of joy running down his cheeks. “Ay, ay, my boy!” replies the little woman, hysterically. “Never do the other factions make such a noise when they win. ’Tis the Green! Oh that I could have helped my master to harness the horses!”