It was no time for delay and affectionate leave-taking. The young man
threw his arms around Cornelia, kissed her once, twice, and then
bounded into the thicket. A moment later several of the servants came
splashing over the little stream, and found Cornelia alone beside the
great cypress, pale and trembling and sobbing. Drusus caught one last
sight of her, surrounded by the torches of the pursuers. Then he
struck off into the grove, and thanks to his perfect local knowledge
easily avoided meeting Lentulus or his slaves. Lentulus he would
gladly have confronted alone. What would have followed, the athletic
young man could only surmise grimly; but he was unarmed, and for
Cornelia's sake he must take no risks.

Close to the confines of his own land he met the Mamerci, father and
son, and several slaves and freedmen, all armed and anxious to know
whether the din that had been raised over at the Lentulan villa
betokened any danger to their young master.

Drusus satisfied them that he had suffered no injury. The personal
peril through which he had passed brought a reaction of excitement
which raised his spirits, and he went to bed in a mood at least
tolerably cheerful. If he could not enjoy his love, he had at least
something else to live for--vengeance; and he told himself that he had
a whole mature lifetime left in which to make Lentulus repent of his
folly and tyrannical cruelty. He awoke late the next morn in a calm
frame of mind, and was able to receive with outward equanimity the
news that early in the morning Lentulus had taken his sister-in-law
and niece, and a large part of his household, back to Rome. This was
only to have been expected, and Drusus listened to the information
without useless comment.