They drew their veils closely, but a murmur of admiration arose as
Hermione's veil slipped aside and revealed cheeks of cream and rose,
eyes inherited from some northern hero, of deep violet blue, and hair,
arranged in ringlets, in the style of the age, of a red-brown tint.

Hastily, the two ladies passed into the dark corridors of the court,
and were soon admitted to the private office of Aurelius Lucanus. Two
attendants, who had walked behind the chair all the way from the Villa
to guard their mistress and her daughter, waited in the ante-chamber
with Alyrus, whose duty it was to remain here until the lawyer's day
of work was over.

The Roman welcomed Octavia with much ceremony. He bowed to Hermione,
who threw back her veil and greeted Martius as an old friend.

While her mother explained the matter of business to her trusted
lawyer, Hermione and Martius withdrew to the other side of the room
and sat down side by side on an ivory and ebony bench in the window.
High above them was Caesar's Palace, white and glistening in the
September sunshine. Sweet scents from the imperial gardens came to
them, but sweeter yet, in its innocence and freshness was the face of
the young girl.

"Thou hast been long absent, Martius?" she said, while she twirled in
her fingers a tea-rose, large and fragrant.

"Half a year, Hermione."

"And hast never wanted to see Rome? Was it so lovely in those far-off