Their surroundings too, suggested an opening. A number of book-rolls, and among them the works of the elder Pliny, lay on the large ebony table. Cinna had for a long time been engaged in writing a work on natural history which, in many respects, went far beyond Pliny; this led Quintus to speak of the wide difference between the views held by the uncle and the niece. How surprised he was then to find Cornelia's whole nature entirely altered, as it seemed to him, when she shook her head and smiled bitterly over his passionate eloquence, and finally declared, shortly and drily, that she was cured once and forever of the follies of her childhood, and would take every precaution to avoid a relapse. Quintus was so astonished, that he dropped the subject. “We will discuss this some time, when we are less fatigued and in better spirits,” he said. “We both need rest; you are looking pale, Cornelia.” A deep sigh was heard from a corner of the room. It was Chloe filling up the brasier with a shovelful of charcoal broken small. “That may well be!” she murmured in a melancholy key. “What time is it?” Cornelia asked her, to stop her talking. “Half-way into the first vigil.” “My uncle is very late!” said Cornelia. “He was to return at sundown. Hark! I hear steps....” Parmenio come into the room announcing Caius Aurelius. “At this hour!” cried Cornelia in surprise. “He is in a great hurry,” said the slave. “He must speak to my lord, he said, even if you were gone to bed. I told him my master was gone to Aricia; at first he seemed much pleased to hear it, but then he grew anxious again. Now he begs to be admitted.” “How very strange! Well, tell him he is welcome.” Aurelius came in, evidently bewildered and agitated. He greeted Cornelia briefly, and asked whether Cinna was expected to return that evening. Cornelia’s reply made him thoughtful. Still, learning that Cinna, who was usually so punctual, was already nearly two hours behind time, his face beamed with inexplicable satisfaction. “He may perhaps be detained for several days,” he said emphatically. “Be that as it may, you will allow me to leave two lines for him. If he should happen to come in, give him the note instantly, everything depends upon it.” “You alarm me!” said Cornelia. “What is happening?” “Forgive me, dear mistress, if I can tell you nothing more....” He went to the table, hastily seized the first piece of paper that fell under his hand, and wrote as follows: “The Batavian to the noble Cornelius, greeting. Delay is danger. Remember Rodumna!” He folded up the leaf. “As soon as he arrives, before he has taken his cloak off--do you understand me, mistress? And if he should not return, tear the note into fragments, or throw it into the fire.” “If he should not return?--but what should prevent him?” “I only mean, if he should not return this night.” Quintus drew the excited visitor on one side. “What has happened?” he said.