Demetrius had no intention of leaving Rome for a few days.  Under existing circumstances the chances of his arrest were not worth considering.  His cousin was eager to show him all the sights; and the freebooter was glad of a little relaxation from his roving life, glad to forget for an instant that his country was his squadron, his rights at law were his cutlass.  Moreover, he had taken a vast liking to Agias; deeply dipped in blood himself, he dared not desire his cousin to join him in his career of violence—­yet he could not part with the bright, genial lad so hastily.  Agias needed no entreaties, therefore, to induce his cousin to enjoy his hospitality.

III

Fabia the Vestal was in direful perplexity.  Her heart had gone with Drusus in his flight to Ravenna; she had wished herself beside him, to be a man, able to fight a man’s battles and win a man’s glory.  For the first time in her life the quiet routine of the Temple service brought her no contentment; for the first time she felt herself bound to a career that could not satisfy.  She was restless and moody.  The younger Vestals, whose attendance on the sacred fire and care of the Temple she oversaw, wondered at her exacting petulance.  Little Livia brought her aunt to her senses, by asking why she, Fabia, did not love her any more.  The lady summoned all her strength of character, and resumed her outward placidity.  She knew that Drusus was safe with Caesar, and exposed only to the ordinary chances of war.  She became more at ease as each successive messenger came into the city, bearing the tidings of the Gallic proconsul’s advance.  Too innocent herself of the political turmoils of the day to decide upon the merits of the parties, her hopes and wishes had gone with those of her nephew; so pure and unquestioning was her belief that he would espouse only the right.  And when the great panic came; when trembling consulars and pallid magistrates rushed to the Temple of Vesta to proffer their last hurried vows, before speeding away to Capua, their refuge; Fabia stood all day beside the altar, stately, gracious, yet awe-inspiring, the fitting personification of the benignant Hearth Goddess, who was above the petty passions of mortals and granted to each an impartial favour.

Yet Fabia was sorely distressed, and that too on the very day of the great exodus of the Senate.  She had heard for some time past rumours of the depredations of a certain band of robbers upon the Sabine and AEquian country.  It was said that a gang of bandits, headed by a gigantic Gaul, had plundered some farms near Carsioli and infested the mountain regions round about.  Fabia had connected this gang and its chieftain with Dumnorix and the remnant of his gladiators, who escaped after their disastrous affray at Praeneste.  As for Publius Gabinius, who had on one occasion given her such distress, nothing had been heard or seen of him since the Praeneste affair.  It was generally believed, however, that he was still with Dumnorix.  And a few days before the panic in the city, Fabia had received a letter.  A strange slave had left it at the Atrium Vestae, and had gone away without explanations.  It ran thus:—­