"Aulus does not know where she is," answered Vinicius.

"Art thou sure of that?"

"I saw Pomponia. She too is looking for her."

"She could not leave the city yesterday, for the gates are closed at
night. Two of my people are watching at each gate. One is to follow
Lygia and the giant, the other to return at once and inform me. If she
is in the city, we shall find her, for that Lygian is easily recognized,
even by his stature and his shoulders. Thou art lucky that it was not
Cæsar who took her, and I can assure thee that he did not, for there are
no secrets from me on the Palatine."

But Vinicius burst forth in sorrow still more than in anger, and in a
voice broken by emotion told Petronius what he had heard from Acte, and
what new dangers were threatening Lygia,--dangers so dreadful that
because of them there would be need to hide her from Poppæa most
carefully, in case they discovered her. Then he reproached Petroruus
bitterly for his counsel. Had it not been for him, everything would
have gone differently. Lygia would have been at the house of Aulus, and
he, Vinicius, might have seen her every day, and he would have been
happier at that moment than Cæsar. And carried away as he went on with
his narrative, he yielded more and more to emotion, till at last tears
of sorrow and rage began to fall from his eyes.

Petronius, who had not even thought that the young man could love and
desire to such a degree, when he saw the tears of despair said to
himself, with a certain astonishment,--"O mighty Lady of Cyprus, thou
alone art ruler of gods and men!"