They had now reached the southern end of the broad walk, where a brick wall was visible through a screen of shrubs; the patches of light, which the sun cast on the gravel through the leaves, were visibly aslant to the left, and the observation struck Aurelius to the heart; from the register afforded by this natural time-keeper, he perceived that the best of the day had slipped by unused. He was suddenly seized with a kind of panic: these rays of light symbolized his happiness. It was escaping him, vanishing fast--he must lose it, if he did not then and there find some spell to command and keep it. He stood still. “Listen!” he said with an effort. “I cannot help it.... Before I go, I must ask you a question. I almost feel as though I could foresee the answer.--It is all the same, I must speak. Only one thing I would beg beforehand: Do not laugh at my blind self-deceit. You know me--I am neither highly gifted nor of noble birth, but I have a faithful nature and a heart full of never-failing devotion--and you are the object of that devotion. Therefore I must ask: could you bear to make up your mind to be my wife? I ask no promise, Claudia, no binding vows--only a word to give me hope, a single word of comfort and encouragement. If you can, oh Claudia, speak it! If you cannot, at any rate I shall be free from the anguish of uncertainty.” Claudia had listened to him in rigid silence, but as he ended, she gave him her hand--looked up in his face--and smiled through her tears. Aurelius stood in speechless surprise; he tried to speak, but in vain. This transcendent happiness seemed to have paralyzed his powers. “You dear, foolish man,” said Claudia with glowing cheeks. “What have I done, that you should put a poor girl like me to the blush? I, who have looked up to you in all humility....” “Claudia!” cried the Batavian, trembling with rapture. “Am I not cheated by a dream? You--mine? I am delirious--raving.” “Nay, it is the truth. I am yours now and till death.” “Quintus, Claudia, Cornelia,” shouted a clear, girlish voice, “are you playing at hide-and-seek? or has some tricky god turned you all into trees? Come forth, Fauns[384] and Dryads![385] The couches are ready in the triclinium, and a banquet is prepared, that is worthy of Olympus.” Aurelius did not seem particularly interested in the information. How gladly would he have dreamed away the remainder of the day out here under the verdurous shade! But society asserts its rights, and love, particularly when it is a secret, must early learn to take patience. “Let us be prudent and say nothing of this,” said Claudia as they went in. “My father has certain schemes in his head, as perhaps you know--he has not spoken out about them as yet, but Lucilia told me she was sure of it, and Lucilia has eyes like a Pannonian lynx.[386] Sextus Furius, the senator--you know him--wants, they say, to make me his wife, and my father is not averse to it. We shall have a fight for it, dear Caius....”