"No! And he was not wicked. He thought himself good at that time, and
he wished to be good. I know that best. All his change came later,
when he ceased to love. Others made him what he is--yes, others--and
Poppæa."

Here her eyelids filled with tears. Lygia followed her for some time
with her blue eyes, and asked at last,--"Art thou sorry for him, Acre?"

"I am sorry for him!" answered the Grecian, with a low voice. And again
she began to walk, her hands clinched as if in pain, and her face
without hope.

"Dost thou love him yet, Acte?" asked Lygia, timidly.

"I love him."

And after a while she added,--"No one loves him but me."

Silence followed, during which Acte strove to recover her calmness,
disturbed by memories; and when at length her face resumed its usual
look of calm sorrow, she said,--

"Let us speak of thee, Lygia. Do not even think of opposing Cæsar; that
would be madness. And be calm. I know this house well, and I judge
that on Cæsar's part nothing threatens thee. If Nero had given command
to take thee away for himself, he would not have brought thee to the
Palatine. Here Poppæa rules; and Nero, since she bore him a daughter,
is more than ever under her influence. No, Nero gave command, it is
true, that thou shouldst be at the feast, but he has not seen thee yet;
he has not inquired about thee, hence he does not care about thee.