Crucified, of whom Ursus spoke with such tenderness. But now the moment
had come. Lygia felt almost happy, and began to speak of her happiness
to Acte, who could not understand her, however. To leave everything,--
to leave house, wealth, the city, gardens, temples, porticos, everything
that is beautiful; leave a sunny land and people near to one--and for
what purpose? To hide from the love of a young and stately knight. In
Acte's head these things could not find place. At times she felt that
Lygia's action was right, that there must be some immense mysterious
happiness in it; but she could not give a clear account to herself of
the matter, especially since an adventure was before Lygia which might
have an evil ending,--an adventure in which she might lose her life
simply. Acte was timid by nature, and she thought with dread of what
the coming evening might bring. But she was loath to mention her fears
to Lygia; meanwhile, as the day was clear and the sun looked into the
atrium, she began to persuade her to take the rest needed after a night
without sleep. Lygia did not refuse; and both went to the cubiculum,
which was spacious and furnished with luxury because of Acte's former
relations with Cæsar. There they lay down side by side, but in spite of
her weariness Acte could not sleep. For a long time she had been sad
and unhappy, but now she was seized by a certain uneasiness which she
had never felt before. So far life had seemed to her simply grievous
and deprived of a morrow; now all at once it seemed to her dishonorable.

Increasing chaos rose in her head. Again the door to light began to
open and close. But in the moment when it opened, that light so dazzled
her that she could see nothing distinctly. She divined, merely, that in
that light there was happiness of some kind, happiness beyond measure,
in presence of which every other was nothing, to such a degree that if
Cæsar, for example, were to set aside Poppæa, and love her, Acte, again,
it would be vanity. Suddenly the thought came to her that that Cæsar