The senator's brow grew dark at the last words, and he said, not without
some excitement, "Everything that the heathen do is not to be condemned.
Polykarp must be kept busy, constantly and earnestly occupied, for he has
set his eyes where they should not be set. Sirona is the wife of
another, and even in sport no man should try to win his neighbor's wife.
Do you think, the Gaulish woman is capable of forgetting her duty?"

Dorothea hesitated, and after some reflection answered, "She is a
beautiful and vain child--a perfect child; I mean in nature, and not in
years, although she certainly might be the grandchild of her strange
husband, for whom she feels neither love nor respect, nor, indeed,
anything but utter aversion. I know not what, but something frightful
must have come between them even in Rome, and I have given up all
attempts to guide her heart back to him. In everything else she is soft
and yielding, and often, when she is playing with the children, I cannot
imagine where she finds her reckless gaiety. I wish she were a
Christian, for she is very dear to me, why should I deny it? It is
impossible to be sad when she is by, and she is devoted to me, and dreads
my blame, and is always striving to win my approbation. Certainly she
tries to please every one, even the children; but, so far as I can see,
not more Polykarp than any one else, although he is such a fine young
man. No, certainly not."

"And yet the boy gazes at her," said Petrus, "and Phoebicius has noticed
it; he met me yesterday when I came home, and, in his sour, polite
manner, requested me to advise my son, when he wished to offer a rose,
not to throw it into his window, as he was not fond of flowers, and
preferred to gather them himself for his wife."

The senator's wife turned pale, and then exclaimed shortly and