“I am thinking,” said she, in reply to his questioning, “I am thinking what _I_ would do with these troops, were they mine.” “And what _would_ you do with them, princess?” asked Titus with a smile. Instead of replying directly to this, Berenice put a question. “Is not your father Vespasian a skillful general?” “He hath no equal in the art of war; it is not I only who say this, but others.” “And he is liked by all the legions, near and far?” “Liked is but a feeble word to express his hold over them.” “But he is somewhat lacking in ambition?” “Ambition is apt to die with the sixtieth year.” “But his son Titus is ambitious, and being so, and having great influence over his father, should act as a spur to his mind.” “Princess,” said the puzzled Titus, “to what does all this tend?” “I am thinking,” said Berenice, watching him keenly from beneath the dark fringe of her half-closed eyelids, “I am thinking what a pity it is that the great Vespasian should be serving Cæsar, when he might be Cæsar himself. The present emperor Vitellius can show no hereditary title to the imperial throne; an ambitious general, he gained the purple by fighting for it. Why should Vespasian not do the like?” It was a startling suggestion, so startling as almost to deprive Titus of breath. He glanced at the charioteer, who stood by the horses’ heads--glanced in fear lest the man should have overhead Berenice’s treasonable remarks, despite the low tone in which they were spoken. “When Titus can call himself Cæsar’s son,” she whispered, “then will Berenice listen to his love--not till then. Go,” she added, with a little peremptory wave of her hand. “Ponder it well!” Left to herself, the princess, sinking back upon the silken cushions of her chariot, indulged in a pleasing reverie. “The idea is new, and it frightens him,” she murmured with a somewhat contemptuous smile. “But he will grow used to it. I have sown the seed in his mind, and it will grow and bear fruit.” Daringly original in all her ways, Berenice had often embarked upon some political enterprise which, pronounced by her more sober-minded brother Agrippa to be impracticable, had nevertheless met with brilliant success. Would she succeed in this, a more daring venture than any she had hitherto dreamed of? Why not? All things are possible to the brave, and why should not the brave Vespasian, the idol of the legions, prevail against the feeble-minded Vitellius, whose follies were daily alienating the loyalty of the nations? The chief obstacle in the way was honest old Vespasian himself; he might refuse to listen to the voice of the charmers, Berenice and Titus, charm they never so wisely. But, if otherwise, and if the enterprise succeeded, what glory would be hers!