Agias had darted out of the tavern, and was lost in the hurly-burly of
the cattle-market.

How Agias had forced his way into Cornelia's presence we have related.
The young Greek had stated his unpleasant intelligence as
diplomatically and guardedly as possible; but Cornelia had borne this
shock--following so soon upon one sufficiently cruel--grievously
enough. After all, she was only a girl--perhaps more mature for her
years than the average maiden of her age of to-day, but almost
friendless, hopeless, and beset with many trials. And this new one was
almost more than she could bear. We have said that to her suicide had
but just before appeared a refuge to be desired; but to have Quintus
die, to have him taken out of that life that ought to be so fair for
him, no matter how darksome it was for her; to have him never realize
her ambition that he become a statesman, warrior, philosopher, in
short her ideal hero--this was unbearable! This phase of the question
was so overpowering that she forgot to feel rage against Ahenobarbus
and his wily ally. Cornelia threw herself down upon the floor, and
cried to Agias to slay her quickly. She did not care to live; she
could endure no more.

Agias here manifested exquisite tact. Instead of attempting any
ordinary means of expostulation, he pleaded with her not to give way
to despair; that Drusus was not yet at the mercy of his enemies; that
she, if she would, could do an infinite deal to assist him.

"I save Quintus?" questioned Cornelia, with white, quivering lips.

"You can do much, my lady," replied Agias, kindly taking her by the
hand, and with gentle pressure forcing her to sit on the divan. "You