Fabricius got into his curtained litter, and the youth, who was the bearer of the summons, led the way across the Tiber to a tavern under Mount Aventine, in the heart of the wharves and warehouses, of the teeming haunts of sailors, and the thousands whose livelihood depended on the ships and commerce which crowded the quays of the busy river.

Here, in an upper room, the old man was brought into the presence of one whom he did not recognise; but when the stranger removed a peruke, and reared himself upright, as Martialis, he hastened to embrace him with a glad cry.

It will be needless to recount what passed between them during the two hours they remained together; or to portray the emotion of Fabricius, already much tried. He perceived that the narrative of the Centurion was substantially the same as that he had heard from Cestus, so far as regarded NeÆra; and when he had exhausted his fond ingenuity of inquiry, he put his hand into his bosom and solemnly drew out an article, which he placed in the hand of his companion. It was an intaglio on cornelian, the likeness of a woman’s face, graved with an exquisite art unapproached in modern times. When Martialis saw it he started in surprise.

‘Is there a resemblance?—you start!’ cried Fabricius breathlessly.

‘So great, that I seem to trace NeÆra herself in the face,’ replied the young man; ‘and yet it cannot be herself—who, then?’

Fabricius was so overcome with extreme joy that he could not reply for some moments. At last, in tremulous tones, he [pg 397]said, ‘It is her mother’s picture—done before her marriage—not long before. If she be like this, then I shall know the child, and so get my own again. O boy, what a strange working of the gods is here! That I should lose my little maid, and, after long years, you, the son of my old friend, should love her all unknowingly.’

‘Nay, Fabricius, there is nothing strange in my loving her,’ returned Martialis; ‘it was only wonderful that I should have met her, of all women—having seen her and spoken to her, the rest followed infallibly.’

The old man smiled, and rose to go.

‘It grows late—to-morrow I will start for Surrentum. I cannot travel as rapidly as yourself, my Lucius, and, by the time you reach Capreae, I shall have done no more than to have arrived at my journey’s end, though with two days’ start.’

‘Farewell! Let not Cestus nor any one know of my presence,’ said the Centurion.

Fabricius went away home, and on the morrow, though later than he had given orders for, he set out on the southern road, with Cestus, Natta, and a retinue of slaves.

Martialis, at the end of the second tedious day, went to receive the answer to Caesar’s epistle, and, after securing it carefully, set out also on his return.

On the second morning following this, about dawn, Zeno entered his cell in the villa Neptune, and found him lying fast asleep on his bed. He went away at once and reported the same to the Emperor, who himself proceeded with little delay to visit the returned prisoner.

When he entered, the latter was still asleep, and received a shake on the shoulder from the Imperial hand.

‘So, you have returned,’ said Tiberius, as Martialis leapt to his feet and saluted; ‘the letter.’

Martialis ripped the cloth of his inner garment and took out the despatch. Caesar stepped aside and broke the seal, and ran his eye briefly over the contents.

‘Good!’ he said, with a brightened eye, as he rolled up the paper; ‘have you succeeded in keeping yourself unrecognised?’

‘Perfectly well, Caesar, for anything I know to the contrary,’ replied Martialis. ‘I entered and came away from the city [pg 398]at nightfall, and lodged near the Porta Navalis, where there was small chance of recognition—especially in my disguise.’

‘A savoury part to be lodged in, and, as you say, not often liable to the visits of your comrades from the opposite side of the city. You have carried out my commission perfectly well—what of your own business?’

‘So please you, Caesar, there is little doubt as to the identity of my betrothed. It can be satisfactorily proved that she is the grandchild of Fabricius, stolen from him when she was but a child.’

‘So much the better for you in every way—how do you propose to prove it?’

‘As soon as you wish. Fabricius has left Rome, and should be in Surrentum ere now, with those who can give testimony.’

‘And does that testimony still incriminate the worthy nephew?’

‘It does.’

‘Ah!’ said Tiberius, with grim irony, ‘I am more and more interested. I will send for the aged Fabricius and his friends, and administer this matter myself. Where in the town is the old man to be found?’

‘He is to be found, or to be heard of, at the villa of his friend Asinius, whom he proposed to visit.’

‘I foresee an interesting scene—no time must be lost,’ said Tiberius, turning to the door.

‘And my betrothed, Caesar—is she well?’ said the lover.

‘For aught I know—they had my orders to tend her well. They would scarcely disobey.’