The only person, who in this depressing atmosphere did not lose her good spirits was Lucilia. “Who knows how all this hangs together?” she said consolingly. “Has not Sextus Furius been arrested? He surely is the very incarnation of peaceful civic virtue. Some low informer has slandered him secretly, and it is the same, I make no doubt, with Aurelius. I can quite understand, that he should have no fancy to exchange his pretty villa for a residence in a state-prison. But his innocence may yet come to light.” “Nay,” said the Flamen, “only those who are conscious flee. The man, who knows that he is falsely accused, stays where he is to justify himself.” “I should think so indeed!” exclaimed Lucilia. “As if no innocent man had ever been condemned! I may say honestly, I should have done the same in his place. It is particularly unpleasant to watch a game, where one is oneself the stake played for. Only let us set to work at once to get at the bottom of the matter. If Aurelius were in truth a rebel, would not the chamberlain have mentioned him to you this morning, when he told you the names of those who had escaped and those who had been arrested?” “Parthenius was in a desperate hurry. He only mentioned the worst, the ringleaders. It may be indeed, that Aurelius has been led away....” “You see!” cried Lucilia, “and those who have been misled must be forgiven.” “Forgiven!” echoed Cornelia. “Those may accept forgiveness who choose!” “Oh, you, with your everlasting Roman pride! That was all very well under a Republic. For my part, sooner than wander about the world an outcast and in misery, I would admit what a fool I had been. You must progress as the times advance. The Empire is firmly established once and for all....” “You are wasting your breath, in trying to make a jest of what is grave earnest,” said the high-priest. “I have been greatly deceived in this Aurelius. I took him to be frank and trustworthy, a man of character....” “Father!” cried Claudia, trembling from head to foot, “I will not bear to hear you speak so of the man, whom I regard as the noblest and truest on earth.” “What, daughter? Even now, after his flight as a criminal?” “Even now.” Quintus and Cornelia looked inquiringly, first at the priest, and then at the girl. “Why should I conceal it?” cried Claudia. “You may hear me say it--and all the world may know it--I love him, he is mine now and forever!” “Poor child!” said her father, and Lucilia went up to her and led her out of the room. In the solitude of her own room the strength, that had kept her blood at boiling point, gave way entirely. She flung herself into her sister’s arms, and cried long and bitterly.