"How now!" she cried, and there was more genuine interest in her soft voice than she had previously shown. "What hath stirred thee against Classicus?" At that moment an indistinct shout of great volume, as of many men cheering behind walls, interrupted him. He turned his head quickly in the direction of the palace. "What passeth within?" he asked; "why will they not admit me?" "Nothing, nothing," she said hurriedly, "or at least only an important ceremony which none but Caesar can perform; Macro does not wish him to be interrupted. Go on with thy story!" "Flaccus hath sent a messenger to the emperor--a messenger that commands the favor of the little Prince Tiberius." "Who told thee?" she asked. "Well?" she inquired. He studied the look on her face and felt that it was strangely composed for the assumed eagerness in her voice. "The tribune refused him the tessera which he must have to approach the emperor's abode, and required that he produce the indorsement of some notable Roman before he return again. The messenger went away boasting that he would get it of the little Tiberius." "He will!" she assented, "for little Tiberius is not on the promontory to-day, and the sentries without dare not refuse the lad's signet!" Marsyas frowned and looked down: he was perplexed that she did not help. "Is there no way to shut him out of Misenum?" he asked. "Caesar's passport is as much a command as Caesar's denial--when the little Tiberius delivers it," she repeated. "But can I not reach Macro?" "No," she said decisively. "Macro's powers pale before the lad's." Was she at the end of her ingenuity, or her willingness, he asked himself. "He will get to the emperor, then, if he start?" His desperation grew under the lady's easy irony. "Unless thou or some other of Agrippa's friends disable him permanently with a bodkin, or a storm deliver him up to the Nereids." Marsyas' hands clenched: he moved as if to rise, but she slipped her hands through the bend of his elbow and let them retard him, more by their presence than by actual strength. "Is there something thou canst do?" he asked. She hesitated; something seemed to fill her eyes; her lids quivered and dropped; speech trembled on her lips, but the momentary impulse passed. After a little silence, she lifted her eyes, composed once more. "I told thee, once upon a time," she said, "of the world. I have counseled with thee for thine own good, and sometimes thou didst heed me, but on the greater number of occasions thou hast chosen for thyself. What hast thou won from thy long battle for the stern purposes which have engaged thee? What hast thou achieved in controlling this Herod, or in working against Saul of Tarsus? What?" He frowned and looked away. "Nothing," she answered, "save thou hast gathered perils around thee, forced thyself into sterner deeds, and there--" She laid a pink finger-tip between his eyes. "--there is a blight on thy comeliness."