at the Capitoline, where the toil and art of earth had wrought to show
the splendor of heaven. Its beautiful, barbaric temples were glowing
in the sunlight.

"Life would be too serious if there were no dissimulation." She looked
up at him as she spoke, and he saw a little quiver in her curved lips.

"That bow of your lips--I should think it fashioned by Praxiteles--and
it is for the arrows of truth."

"But a girl--she must deceive a little."

They were now among the vines.

"I do not understand you."

"Stupid fellow!" said she, in a whisper, as she turned, looking up at
him. "Son of Varo, lovers are not ever to be trusted. Shall I tell
you a story? One day I was in the Via Sacra and a young man caught and
held me for a moment and tried to touch my lips--that boy, Antipater, a
good-looking wretch!"

She gave her shoulders a little shrug and drew her robe closer. "He
had come out of the Basilica Julia, and I am sure he had been
over-drinking. I cried 'Help!' and quickly a man came and stood
between us; and oh! young sir, as I live, it was our great father
Augustus, and Antipater knelt before him.

"'Young man,' said the father--and his eyes shone--'rise and look
yonder. Do you see the citadel? Under its marble floor there is a