And his answer was painfully lacking in the ascendant volubility which would have befitted the occasion.
"Forgive me; pardon; it was of course necessary to resort to some subterfuge in order--in order to prevent your attendants from becoming suspicious." Fabia cast a glance behind her, and saw that before the two doors leading to the atrium her conductor and another tall slave had placed themselves; but she replied in a tone a little more lofty, if possible, than before:-- "I cannot well, sir, understand you.

Are you a friend of Titus Denter, who is sick?
I do not see that any subterfuge is necessary when I am to receive the deposit of a will from a dying man.

It is a recognized duty of my office." Gabinius was still more at a loss.
"You should certainly understand, lady," he began, cursing himself for having to resort to circumlocutions, "that this is my own villa, and I have not the pleasure of knowing Titus Denter.

I sent the letter because--" "Because, my worthy sir," interrupted Fabia, not however raising her voice in the least, "you are weary of Greek flute-players for sweethearts or such Roman young ladies as admire either the ointments or the pimples of your face, and consequently seek a little diversion by laying snares for a sacred Vestal." Gabinius at last found free use for his tongue.
"Oh, lady; Lady Fabia," he cried, stretching out his arms and taking a step nearer, "don't misjudge me so cruelly! I will forsake anything, everything, for you! I have nothing to dream of day or night but your face.

You have served your thirty years in the Temple, and can quit its service.