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Alyrus, wild with gratified hatred, his face as evil as that of a demon, leaned far over that he might lose nothing of the pitiful drama about to be enacted in the arena. The Christians came forward slowly, the women clinging together in their physical weakness, though their souls were strong in the strength of their faith. There was Octavia, leading Hermione and Virgilia.
Neither Aurelius nor Claudia intended to be cruel to Virgilia. It was the custom of the times and her mother, at least, was thoroughly frightened over the fact that Virgilia had been led away by strange doctrines, taught by what she considered a very low class of persons. She actually believed that this disposal of the daughter whom she truly loved, would be in the end for her happiness.
He and Alexis had only a half hour before been brought through the underground passage-way to the cells where the Christians were waiting. He and Virgilia met here, on the sanded arena, where thousands of persons were gazing at them. Martius stepped to his sister's side, and put his arm around her. He stretched out his hand to clasp that of Hermione.
The darkness settled down over Rome and still Virgilia dreamed on, but the dreams were not prophetic; in the visions which she had there were no forebodings of that which was to come. Alyrus crept out of the rear door of the house about sundown, while Virgilia, her head pillowed on a cushion of soft down, was dreaming of things past.
And Lidia cooked for them in a small stone cottage, singing as she worked. Martius and Marcus, grown to be men, worked also, and when the labors of the day were over, sat on the terrace in the moonlight, while Hermione and Virgilia talked with them, and Claudia and Octavia smiled at their happiness.
"Dear me," said Preciosa; "don't tell me I'm bashful." "Did his sketches amount to anything?" asked Virgilia, herself reaching for the biscuits. "Well, there were plenty of them. By a quarter to eight they had covered all the tables and chairs and about two-thirds of the floor. There was every evidence of that young man's being after us a regular siege.
The general effect was brilliant enough, yet Yes, surely they were too loquacious, too demonstrative; they were talking against time, they were working under cover, they were kicking up a dust. And, yes both Daff and Virgilia, in the midst of this gay chatter, shot certain furtive, sidelong glances whither so many had been sent before. The group in the doorway showed signs of breaking up.
Then Virgilia took Preciosa up into the bay-window on the landing and set her to sipping her coffee and delicately indicated to her the price she was to pay. She spoke of Mr. Dill's recognised primacy among the city's painters, and of the exertions by which he had won his place.
"Certainly not," said Elizabeth promptly, and put the matter out of her mind for once and for all. After Morrell had imposed himself upon the men he turned his attention to the women. Virgilia had always impressed him as a trifle meagre and acidulous, and Elizabeth Gibbons had never impressed him at all; but he instantly caught at the flamboyant and high-charged beauty of little Preciosa McNulty.
Yet she showed evidences of effort, of self-consciousness, of serious intention; now and then the arriere pensee disclosed its puckered front. This, and nothing but this, could excuse Virgilia to-day. For she was too old to giggle, far too learned, much too sober-minded.
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