“All promises for the best, my lord! The fair one is by no means the monster you imagine. It was only the sudden fright, that turned her brain that evening. I have found her quite reasonable, most reasonable; and if the sight of your majesty does not prove too much for her again, I venture to predict....” A smile ended the sentence. “You are a finished master in all affairs of gallantry,” said Caesar. “Ovid himself might take a lesson from you. But where is she, the lovely, aggravating Fury, who handled the lord of the universe with such rough defiance? Tell me now, Parthenius: Am I not infinitely kind? Is not my condescension far beyond everything you ever heard of? I might have snatched the fruit of the Hesperides by force, and I resign myself to wait till it drops into my lap, beguiled by all the arts of love. It is a stroke of genius, a refinement...! If it comes to the worst--of course--but you say you are sure.” “I am sure you have only to be yourself, to be certain of victory.” Cornelia overheard this dialogue, and she involuntarily made a gesture as if to throttle the hateful man, and she only resumed her indifferent air just in time, for at this moment the chamberlain raised the curtain, and in the next instant Domitian and Cornelia stood face to face. For some minutes the Emperor found no words. The presence of the noble girl, whom he now had so completely in his power, seemed to have deprived him of his presence of mind. He was deeply conscious, that this queenly Cornelia was no every-day quarry, and that few women in all Rome could compare with her for beauty. “To-day you will be my guest, fair Cornelia,” he said at last, taking a step towards her. “Your crime is wiped out--for our clemency is boundless. In return I ask but one thing: a happy smile and a few kindly glances from those divine eyes. Will you grant me these, Cornelia? It is your sovereign, who sues to you?” “My lord,” said Cornelia, “I will try.” “You are as gracious as Amathusia![104] Well, to-day Parthenius will share our meal--but to-morrow--to-morrow, say, beloved one--you will receive me alone?” “I will try,” repeated Cornelia, looking down. Parthenius threw a triumphant glance at Domitian, a glance that seemed to expect some acknowledgment of the superior skill, which had so quickly converted the coy maiden into a docile child. And Caesar vouchsafed him a hasty nod. Then he took Cornelia by the hand, and, with an air of repulsive gallantry, led her into the little triclinium, where the slaves had by this time made everything ready. Caesar took his place on the middle couch, with Parthenius on his left hand, and Cornelia on his right. As each couch was intended to accommodate three persons, this arrangement placed them at some distance apart; a respectful distance, which Domitian intended as a sort of atonement for his vehemence on the former occasion. They had no one to serve them but the two slave-girls, helped by Phaeton.