serious matter while she seemed to make a joke of it, as she did of every
thing, and so desecrated it in his eyes. After she had been sitting an
hour on the bench, studying in her own way, she rolled up the book and
stood up to refresh herself a little. Feeling sure that no one could see
her, she stretched herself in all her limbs and then stepped up to the
gap in the shrubbery in order to see who a man in boots might be who was
pacing up and down in the broad path beyond.

It was the praetor--and yet it was not! Verus, under this aspect at any
rate, she had never seen till now. Where was the smile that was wont to
twinkle in his merry eye like the sparkle of a diamond and to play
saucily about his lips--where the unwrinkled serenity of his brow and the
defiantly audacious demeanor of his whole handsome person? He was slowly
striding up and down with a gloomy fire in his eye, a deeply-lined brow,
and his head sunk on his breast: and yet it was not bowed with sorrow.
If so, could he have snapped his fingers in the air as he did just as he
passed in front of Balbilla, as much as to say: "Come what may! to-day I
live and laugh the future in the face!"

But this vestige of his old reckless audacity did not last longer than
the time it took to part his fingers again, and the next time Verus
passed Balbilla he looked, if possible, more gloomy than before.
Something very unpleasant must have arisen to spoil the good humor of her
friend's husband; and the poetess was sincerely sorry; for, though she
herself had daily to suffer under the praetor's impertinence, she always
forgave it for the sake of the graceful form in which he knew how to
clothe his incivilities.

Balbilla longed to see Verus content once more, and she therefore came
forth from her hiding place. As soon as he saw her he altered the