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Updated: May 1, 2025
"No, delectissima," replied her nephew, "to do that we are all too weak; except it be true, as Aratus the poet has said, 'that we men are also the offspring of gods, in which case Heaven itself must stoop to give us aid." But Cornelia's eyes had wandered down into the foam, still gleaming as snow in the failing light.
The injunction was needed, for several other serving-women were in the room, and Cornelia more than suspected that they were ready to spy on her to prevent unauthorized correspondence with Drusus. When she was dressed, and could walk alone on the terrace overlooking the sea, she unrolled the papyrus and read: "Delectissima, I have come from Rome to Puteoli. I cannot live longer without seeing you.
"My dearest, delectissima," said Quintus, earnestly, "I could not honourably take your hand in marriage, if I had not done that which my conscience, if not my reason, tells me is the only right thing to do.
My uncle may scold, may storm. I shan't care for all his anger, for you must be right." "Ah! delectissima," cried Drusus, feeling at the moment as if he were capable of refuting senates and confounding kings, "we will not look at too gloomy a side of the picture. Pompeius and Cæsar will be reconciled. Your uncle's party will see that it is best to allow the proconsul an election as promised.
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