Lentulus seemed considerably relieved.  Claudia broke out with loud ejaculations to the effect that Drusus, she always knew, was a generous, affectionate fellow, and she loved him dearly.  Cornelia, however, looked disturbed, and presently exclaimed:—­

“It isn’t right, Quintus, that I should come into your house with not a sesterce in my own name, as if you had married some low farmer’s daughter.”

“Phy! pish!” replied Drusus.  “You always scold the Greeks, my good mistress, and yet, like them, you hold that a marriage between people of unequal means is unhappy.  A penny for your scruples!  I have more money to-day than I know what to do with.  Besides, if it will make you happier, your uncle can doubtless pay over the dowry before a great while.”

“It’s certainly very kind of you, Quintus,” said Lentulus (who had quite made up his mind that if the young man could wait for what was a very tidy fortune, through sheer affection for Cornelia, he would be pliable enough in the political matter), “not to press me in this affair.  Rest assured, neither you nor my niece will be the losers in the end.  But there’s one other thing I would like to ask you about.  From what Calvus told me in Rome, Curio and certain other still worse Populares[81] were trying to induce you to join their abominable faction.  I trust you gave those men no encouragement?”

  [81] The party in opposition, since the time of Tiberius Gracchus,
  to the Senate party—­Optimates; at this time the Populares were
  practically all Caesarians.

Drusus was evidently confused.  He was wishing strongly that Cornelia was away, and he could talk to her uncle with less constraint.  He felt that he was treading on very dangerous ground.

“It is true,” said he, trying painfully to answer as if the words cost him no thought.  “Antonius had met many of my father’s old comrades in Gaul, and they had sent a number of kind messages to me.  Then, too, Balbus invited me to a dinner-party and there I met Curio, and a very pleasant time we had.  I cannot recall that they made any special efforts to enlist me as a partisan.”

In this last, Drusus spoke truly; for he had already thrown in his lot with the Caesarian cause.  But Lentulus knew enough of the case to realize that he was receiving not the whole truth but only a half; and being a man of a sharp temper that was under very imperfect control, threw diplomacy to the winds, and replied vehemently:  “Don’t attempt to cover up your folly!  I know how you have put yourself in the power of those conspirators.  Are you planning to turn out another Catilina?”

“My dear sir,” expostulated Drusus, doing his best to retain his outward calm, “I cannot understand of what fault I have become guilty.  Is it wrong in Rome to accept a kindly invitation from an old family friend to a dinner?  Am I responsible for the persons the host summoned to meet me there?”