I had none in Rome to ask mercy of but you; so I set forth hastily, ere my weakness should overpower me, remembering that I had inherited much misery at your hands, but hoping that you might pity me for what I had suffered when you saw me again.

I came wearily through the garden; it was long before I found my way hither; will you send me back as helpless as I came?
You first taught me to disobey my father in giving me the lute; will you refuse to aid me in succouring him now?
He is all that I have left in the world! Have mercy upon him!--have mercy upon me!' Again she looked up in Vetranio's face.

His trembling lips moved, but still no sound came from them.

The expression of confusion and awe yet prevailed over his features as he pointed slowly towards the upper end of the banqueting-table.

To her this simple action was eloquent beyond all power of speech; she turned her feeble steps instantly in the direction he had indicated.
He watched her, by the light of the single lamp that still burnt, passing--strong in the shielding inspiration of her good purpose--amid the bodies of his suicide companions without pausing on her way.
Having gained the upper end of the room, she took from the table a flask of wine, and from the wooden stand behind it the bowl of offal disdained by the guests at the fatal banquet, returning immediately to the spot where Vetranio still stood.