seat of ivory mounted with gold, its crimson cushion glowing,
set far out in the room.

Before the throne stood Aurelius, his head bare, the long ringlets
of his hair and beard sweeping his shoulders and his bosom, one
foot a trifle advanced, the gold eagle embroidered on his sky-blue
buskin showing beneath the crimson silk robes, lavishly embroidered
with a complicated pattern of winding vines, bright blue and green,
edged with gold, which the etiquette of the time imposed upon even
a philosophically austere Emperor; on his right Brinnaria, erect
and tense in her white official habit, her square white headdress
all but hiding her coronet of dark braids, her veil pushed back
from her flushed face; the tassels and ribbons of her head-band,
her great pearl necklace, the big pearl brooch that fastened the
folds of her headdress where they crossed on her breast, and the
bunch of fresh white flowers which it clasped, rising and falling
with the heaving of her bosom; facing her, splendid in the gilded
armor and scarlet cloak of a commander of irregular cavalry, Almo.

"You know why I have sent for you," Aurelius reminded him.
"Speak out."

Like a school-boy repeating a lesson by rote, Alma spoke.

"Brinnaria," he said, "the Emperor has remonstrated with
me on my recent folly. I am sincerely ashamed of myself and I
wish to apologize to you for my lack of self-control and for my
lack of consideration for you. I leave Rome before sunset and
shall not return until I may return without danger to you."