“That cradle is at present in your mother’s house, and she is taking care of our little ones. Have patience, a little longer for that which I am striving after, for you, and for me, and not last, for our son, is so great, so stupendously great and difficult that it might well outweigh years of longing.” Verus spoke the last words in a low tone, but with a dignity which characterized him only in decisive moments, but his wife, even before he had done speaking, clasped his right-hand in both of hers and said in a low frightened voice: “You aim at the purple?” He nodded assent. “That is what it means then!” “What?” “Sabina and you--” “Not on that account only; she is hard and sharp to others, but to me she has shown nothing but kindness, ever since I was a boy.” “She hates me.” “Patience, Lucilla; patience! The day is coming when the daughter of Nigrinus, the wife of Caesar, and the former Empress--but I will not finish. I am, as you know, warmly attached to Sabina, and sincerely wish the Emperor a long life.” “And he will adopt.” “Hush!--he is thinking of it, and his wife wishes It.” “Is it likely to happen soon?” “Who can tell at this moment what Caesar may decide on in the very next hour. But probably his decision may be made on the thirtieth of December.” “Your birthday.” “He asked what day it was, and he is certainly casting my horoscope, for the night when my mother bore me--” “The stars then are to seal our fate?” “Not they alone. Hadrian must also be inclined to read them in my favor.” “How can I be of use to you?” “Show yourself what you really are in your intercourse with the Emperor” “I thank you for those words--and I beg you do not provoke me any more. If it might yet be something more than a mere post of honor to be the wife of Verus, I would not ask for the new dignity of becoming wife to Caesar.” “I will not go into the town to-day; I will stay with you. Now are you happy?” “Yes, yes,” cried she, and she raised her arm to throw it round her husband’s neck, but he held her aside and whispered: “That will do. The idyllic is out of place in the race for the purple.” CHAPTER VIII. Titianus had ordered his charioteer to drive at once to Lochias. The road led past the prefect’s palace, his residence on the Bruchiom, and he paused there; for the letter which lay hidden in the folds of his toga, contained news, which, within a few hours, might put him under the necessity of not returning home till the following morning. Without allowing himself to be detained by the officials, subalterns, or lictors, who were awaiting his return to make communications, or to receive his orders, he went straight through the ante-room and the large public rooms for men, to find his wife in the women’s apartments which looked upon the garden. He met her at the door of her room, for she had heard his step approaching and came out to receive him.