Only her wet cheeks showed what a flood of tears she had shed, as, almost beside herself with anger, she exclaimed: "Let my hand go! Shame on the man who insults a defenseless girl! You swear! Then I, too, may take an oath, and, by the head of my mother, you shall never see me again excepting as a corpse, if you ever attempt violence! You are Caesar--you are the stronger.

Who ever doubted it?
But you will never compel me to a vile action, not if you could inflict a thousand deaths on me instead of one!" Caracalla, without a word, had released her hand and was staring at her in amazement.
A woman, and so gentle a woman, defying him as no man would have dared to do! She stood before him, her hand raised, her bosom heaving; a flame of anger sparkled in her eyes through their tears, and he had never before thought her so fair.

What majesty there was in this girl, whose simple grace had made him more than once address her as "child"! She was like a queen, an empress; perhaps she might become one.

The idea struck him for the first time.

And that little hand which now fell--what soothing power it had, how much he owed to it! How fervently he had wished but just now to be understood by her, and to be thought better of by her than by the rest! And this wish still possessed him.