She had ceased hoping for a letter from her mother; even a taunting missive from Ahenobarbus would have been a diversion.

She was so closely guarded that she found herself praying that Drusus would not try to steal a second interview, for the attempt might end in his murder.
Only one stray crumb of comfort at last did she obtain, and it was Artemisia who brought it to her.

The girl had been allowed by Phaon to walk outside the grounds of the villa for a little way, and her pretty face had won the good graces of one or two slave-boys in an adjoining seaside house.

Artemisia came back full of news which they had imparted: the consuls had fled from Rome; Pompeius was retreating before Caesar; the latest rumour had it that Domitius was shut up in Corfinium and likely to come off hardly.
The words were precious as rubies to Cornelia.

She went all that day and the next with her head in the air.