Cornelia was never out of sight of some person whom she knew was devoted to Lentulus, or rather to Phaon and his patron.

She received no letters save those from her mother, uncle, or Ahenobarbus; she saw no visitors; she was not allowed to go outside of the walls of the villa, nor indeed upon any of its terraces where she would be exposed to sight from without, whether by land or sea.

At every step, at every motion, she was confronted with the barriers built around her, and by the consciousness that, so long as she persisted in her present attitude, her durance was likely to continue unrelaxed.
Cornelia was thirsty for the news from the world without.

Her keepers were dumb to the most harmless inquiry.

Her mother wrote more of the latest fashions than of the progress of events in the Senate and in the field; besides, Claudia--as Cornelia knew very well--never took her political notions from any one except her brother-in-law, and Cornelia noted her mother's rambling observations accordingly.
Lentulus studiously refrained from adverting to politics in letters to his niece.