over his face. Cornelia had dropped down upon a chair, buried her
pretty face in her hands, and was sobbing as if her heart would break.
It was a moment Drusus would not soon forget. The whole scene in the
atrium was stamped upon his memory; the drops of the fountain seemed
frozen in mid-air; the rioting satyr on the fresco appeared to be
struggling against the limitations of paint and plaster to complete
his bound; he saw Cornelia lift her head and begin to address him, but
what she said was drowned by the buzzing and swirl which unsteadied
the young man's entire faculties. Drusus felt himself turning hot and
cold, and in semi-faintness he caught at a pillar, and leaned upon it.
He felt numbed mentally and physically. Then, by a mental reaction,
his strong, well-balanced nature reasserted itself. His head cleared,
his muscles relaxed their feverish tension, he straightened himself
and met the cool leer of Lentulus with a glance stern and high; such a
glance as many a Livian before him had darted on foe in Senate or
field of battle.

"Lucius Cornelius," said he, his voice perfectly under command, "do
you propose to defy law and right and refuse me the hand of your
niece, unless I do your will?"

Lentulus thought that in this unimpassioned speech he detected the
premonitions of a capitulation on the part of Drusus, and with a voice
of ill-timed persuasion, replied, "Be reasonable, Drusus; you have
everything to gain and nothing to lose by not thwarting my wishes."

"Your wishes!" retorted Drusus, with a menacing step forward. "Your
wishes! You are consul-designate. You have the Senate, you have your
tool, Pompeius, you have the gangs of gladiators and street ruffians
and all the machinery of your political clubs to invoke to defy the