“What do you want?” he asked in surprise, seeing his daughter stand before him, pale, calm, and stately. “I have a confession to make to you, which has been on my lips ever since yesterday.” “Well?” said the high-priest, hardly attending. “Send away the servants.” “Child, I have no time now for any discussions; in twenty minutes....” “I will not detain you.” The Flamen signed to the slaves, who disappeared with an enquiring glance at the young girl’s unusually serious face and manner. “Now--what have you to say?” he asked, when they were alone. “Father,” said Claudia in a low, but resolute tone, “I cannot marry Sextus Furius.” “Folly!” “It is not folly--it is as I say.” “Indeed! and why not?” “Because I do not care for him.” “An excellent reason! Why, you hardly know him; try first to understand his worth.” “I solemnly assure you it is quite in vain. My heart is given away--I love Caius Aurelius Menapius.” “What!” cried the priest sternly. “A provincial, a man of no birth or family!” “He is a Roman knight.” “A knight--and who is not a knight now-a-days? A man is a knight, if he is anything but a laborer or a slave. Besides, is not his mother descended from some barbarian tribe?” “From the tribe, that could conquer Varus.” “So much the worse. It grieves me to have to tell you, that I will never submit to such a vagary.” “But let me ask you one thing: do you not esteem Caius Aurelius?” “You know I do. From the first I have thought most highly of him. But, by Jupiter! To regard him as my guest is one thing--as a suitor for my daughter’s hand is quite another!” “Father, if you part me from Caius Aurelius, I shall never be happy again. He has my promise.” Her tone, and, yet more, the sparkle in her eyes betrayed such settled determination, that the high-priest was staggered. The thought flashed upon him that, after all, not everything in the world could be calculated by the inexorable laws of logic; the possibility of Claudia’s choosing for herself he had never taken into consideration. And now this possibility--nay, actuality--stood before him so pressingly, in the form of a pair of tearful, suppliant eyes, that he at once lost his grasp of the situation. As for Claudia herself, her forced calmness was fast giving way before the storm of excitement, which shook every fibre of her slender frame. “Claudia, my darling,” stammered the Flamen, clasping his child in his arms, “you are trembling and tearful; but come, come, be reasonable. There, lay your head on my shoulder, and tell me, calmly and without tears, what is troubling your heart? I am your father, my child, and not a tyrant. Do you hear, my Claudia?” She looked up like a flower after a thunder-shower--a radiance of a grateful smile lighted up her features. “You are so good!” she said, tenderly. “Forgive me, if I cannot help causing you trouble.”