old sunny gayety of her nature.  The architect thought he comprehended the characteristic change in her sentiments, and would not allude to the cause of the violent but transient fever under which she had suffered.  “What did you discuss with Caesar to-day?” asked Balbilla of her friend.  Pontius looked down at the ground and considered whether he could venture to utter the name of Antinous before the poetess.  Balbilla observed his hesitation and said: 

“Speak on; I can hear anything.  That folly is past and over.”

“Caesar is at work at the plans for a new town to be built and called Antinoe, and a sketch for a monument to his ill-fated favorite,” said Pontius.  “He will not accept any help, but I have to teach him to discriminate what is possible from what is impossible.”

“Ah! he is always gazing at the stars and you look steadily at the road on which you are walking.”

“An architect can make no use of anything that is unsteady or that has no firm foundation.”

“That is a hard saying, Pontius.  It is true that during the last few weeks I have behaved like a fool.”

“I only wish that every tottering structure could recover its balance as quickly and as certainly as you!  Antinous was a demigod for beauty, and a good faithful fellow besides.”

“Do not speak of him any more,” exclaimed Balbilla shuddering.  “He looked dreadful.  Can you forgive me for my conduct?”

“I never was angry with you.”

“But I lost your esteem.”

“No, Balbilla.  Beauty, which is dear to us all, and which the Muse has kissed, attracted your easily moved poet’s soul and it fluttered off at random.  Let it fly!  My friend’s true womanly nature was never carried away by it.  She stands on a rock, that I am sure of.”

“How good and kind in you to say so—­too good, too kind! for I am a feeble creature, turned by every breeze that blows, a vain little fool who does not know one hour what she may do the next, a spoilt child that likes best to do the thing it ought to leave undone, a weak girl who finds a pleasure in doing battle with men.  For all in all—­”

“For all in all a darling of the gods who to-day can climb the rocks with a firm step and to-morrow lies dreaming in the sunshine among flowers—­ for all in all a nature that has no equal and which lacks nothing, nothing whatever that constitutes a true woman excepting—­”

“I know what I lack,” cried Balbilla.  “A strong man on whom I can depend, whose warnings I can respect.  You, you are that man; you and none other, for as soon as I feel you by my side I find it difficult to do what I know to be wrong.  Here I am, Pontius!  Will you have me with all my moods, with all my faults and weaknesses?”

“Balbilla!” cried the architect, beside himself with heartfelt agitation and surprise, and he pressed her hand long and fervently to-his lips.

“You will?  You will take me?  You will never leave me, you will warn, support me and protect me?”