“You do well to say so, my dear Lucius; for all men know that your life is as morally severe as your good friend Cato’s.”

Lentulus was silent for a moment, and bit his lip; then recommenced:—­

“What I meant to say was this.  Quintus Drusus and I are enemies; and I will not give him my niece in marriage.  If we were friends, I would not be able to pay the dowry.  You can complain if you please; but you can’t alter my inclinations or my inability to carry out the marriage agreement.”

Though Claudia in many respects was an empty woman of the world, she had in a way a desire to promote her daughter’s happiness, and, as has been said, she had been extremely fond of Drusus.  So she replied diplomatically that Quintus was probably willing to wait a reasonable time for the dowry; and that even if he had held communication with the Caesarians, he was little more than a boy and could be shaken out of any unfortunate political opinions.

“I will be reasonable,” said Lentulus, after pacing up and down for a few minutes.  “I was told of his folly by Caius Calvus.[78] Calvus is as a rule accurate in his information.  He said he met Drusus in company with Balbus and Curio.  But there may have been some mistake.  And the lad, as you declare, may be willing to cut loose from a bad course.  If he really cares for Cornelia, he will be moderate in his demands for the dowry.  Your suggestion is worth taking, Claudia.  Let us send for him, and let him know the only terms on which he can have my niece.”

  [78] A distinguished poet and orator—­a friend of Catullus.

Lentulus clapped his hands, and a serving-boy came in for orders.

“Go to the villa of Quintus Drusus,” commanded the master, “and tell him that I would see him at once on business of weight.”

Claudia arose, and let her maids throw over her a long white stola,[79] with deep flounces and an elaborate embroidery of sea-nymphs and marine monsters.  Lentulus went out into the atrium and walked up and down, biting his nails, and trying to think out the arguments by which he would confute the political heresies of Drusus.  Lentulus was too good a politician not to know that the young man would be a valuable catch for the party that secured him; and the consul-elect was determined, not so much to spare breaking the heart of his niece, but to rob the enemy of a valuable adherent.  Cornelia had gone back to her book; but when she saw the boy go down the path, evidently on an errand to the villa of the Drusi, she rolled up the volume, and went into the atrium.

  [79] A long tunic worn by Roman ladies.

“You have sent after Quintus, uncle?” she asked.

“I have,” was the reply; “I expect him shortly.”

“What is the matter?” continued Cornelia, growing apprehensive.

“I wish to make the arrangements for your wedding,” replied Lentulus, continuing his pacing to and fro.