“I hardly think that you will find my dear friend Quintus Drusus’s aunt, for so I understand she is,” said Ahenobarbus, “very likely to reciprocate your devotion.”

“And why not?” reiterated Gabinius, in a vexed tone.

“My dear fellow,” answered Lucius, “I won’t argue with you.  There are plenty of women in Rome quite as handsome as Fabia, and much younger, who will smile on you.  Don’t meddle in a business that is too dangerous to be profitable.”

But Gabinius had been wrought up to a pitch of amorous excitement, from which Ahenobarbus was the last one to move him.  For days he had haunted the footsteps of the Vestal; had contrived to thrust himself as near to her in the theatre and circus as possible; had bribed one of the Temple servants to steal for him a small panel painting of Fabia; had, in fact, poured over his last romance all the ardour and passion of an intense, violent, uncontrolled nature.  Gabinius was not the kind of a man either to analyze his motives, or express himself in the sobbing lyrics of a Catullus.  He was thrilled with a fierce passion, and knew it, and it only.  Therefore he merely replied to Lucius Ahenobarbus:—­

“I can’t help myself.  What does Terence say about a like case?  ’This indeed can, to some degree, be endured; night, passion, liquor, young blood, urged him on; it’s only human nature.’"[106]

  [106] Terence, “Adelphoe,” 467 and 471.

And all the afternoon, while the chariots ran, and wager on wager marked the excitement of the cloud of spectators, Gabinius had only eyes for one object, Fabia, who, perfectly unconscious of his state of fascination, sat with flushed cheeks and bright, eager eyes, watching the fortunes of the races, or turned now and then to speak a few words to little Livia, who was at her side.  When the games were over, Gabinius struggled through the crowd after the Vestal, and kept near to her until she had reached her litter and the eight red-liveried Cappadocian porters bore her away.  Gabinius continued to gaze after her until Fabia drew the leather curtains of her conveyance and was hid from sight.

“Perpol!" reflected Gabinius.  “How utterly enslaved I am!”

* * * * *

The following morning Fabia received a letter in a strange hand, asking her to come to a villa outside the Porta Capena, and receive a will from one Titus Denter, who lay dying.  The receiving and safe-keeping of wills was a regular duty of Vestals, and Fabia at once summoned her litter, and started out of the city, along the Via Appia, until, far out in the suburbs where the houses were wide apart, she was set down before the country-house indicated.  A stupid-appearing slave-boy received her at the gateway.  The villa was old, small, and in very indifferent repair.  The slave could not seem to explain whether it had been occupied of late, but hastened to declare that his master lay nigh to death.  There was no porter