“Daughter!” he said, as he drew himself up again, “your dream betokens no good. A fatality is hovering over you and yours, which can only be averted by the direct intervention of the goddess. To this end it is needful that you should, for the next four weeks, bring an offering daily at the same hour as to-night. Gold, incense and roses are pleasing in the eyes of the divinity.” “I knew it, oh! I knew it,” groaned Cornelia. “Not for nothing has my heart been held in a cold and deathlike grasp! But, tell me, what is the meaning of the desert place, of the shining city, and of my lover’s appearance?” “All this I will tell you, when the month is out. Trust me, daughter, and do that which you are enjoined.” “Oh! I will do it!” cried Cornelia ecstatically, and she pressed the priest’s hand to her lips. “My pearls, my jewels--everything will I sacrifice joyfully, if only I may appease Fate. Ah! my lord, you could never, never guess how sad my soul is! Tell me only one thing, I entreat you, does the danger threaten me through my beloved Quintus?” The priest closed his eyes. “I dare not answer you,” he said with an effort. “My part is only to announce inevitable doom; when I am still permitted to hope that the favor of the all-gracious mother may yet prevail, silence is the first duty of my office.” “Well then, I must submit. Meanwhile--as a proof of my infinite gratitude--accept this trifling offering. Pray for me, Barbillus, intercede for me with the almighty goddess.” She gave him a costly brooch set with rubies, emeralds and chrysolites,[257] and as she stood--her eyes cast down in maidenly shyness--she did not see the flash of greed that sparkled under the Asiatic’s long fine lashes, giving place immediately to the lofty and dignified expression, that usually characterized him. “Thanks, my daughter,” he said graciously. “I will offer the gifts on the shrine of the goddess. And you too, my child, do not fail to entreat the immortals that all may yet be well.” He gave her his hand, and led her by a circuitous route back again to the anteroom, where Parmenio stood in a corner, as upright as a soldier on guard, while Chloe had gone to sleep in her comfortable seat. “Come,” said Cornelia, shaking her by the shoulder. Chloe started up. “You have been a long time,” she exclaimed. “It cannot be far short of midnight.” Just as the three were about to step out into the street again, a female form flew past them, and close behind, puffing and panting, ran a man, while farther away, where the streets crossed, they heard loud laughter.