Meanwhile Pomponia, when she had conducted Lygia to the cubiculum, began
to comfort, console, and encourage her, uttering words meanwhile which
sounded strangely in that house, where near them in an adjoining chamber
the lararium remained yet, and where the hearth was on which Aulus
Plautius, faithful to ancient usage, made offerings to the household
divinities. Now the hour of trial had come. On a time Virginius had
pierced the bosom of his own daughter to save her from the hands of
Appius; still earlier Lucretia had redeemed her shame with her life.
The house of Cæsar is a den of infamy, of evil, of crime. But we,
Lygia, know why we have not the right to raise hands on ourselves! Yes!
The law under which we both live is another, a greater, a holier, but it
gives permission to defend oneself from evil and shame even should it
happen to pay for that defence with life and torment. Whoso goes forth
pure from the dwelling of corruption has the greater merit thereby. The
earth is that dwelling; but fortunately life is one twinkle of the eye,
and resurrection is only from the grave; beyond that not Nero, but Mercy
bears rule, and there instead of pain is delight, there instead of tears
is rejoicing.

Next she began to speak of herself. Yes! she was calm; but in her
breast there was no lack of painful wounds. For example, Aulus was a
cataract on her eye; the fountain of light had not flowed to him yet.
Neither was it permitted her to rear her son in Truth. When she thought,
therefore, that it might be thus to the end of her life, and that for
them a moment of separation might come which would be a hundred times
more grievous and terrible than that temporary one over which they were
both suffering then, she could not so much as understand how she might
be happy even in heaven without them. And she had wept many nights
through already, she had passed many nights in prayer, imploring grace
and mercy. But she offered her suffering to God, and waited and