Perhaps with a lover's subtle omniscience she imagined that it was Drusus who had some part in bringing Domitius to bay.

She pictured the hour when he--with a legion no doubt at his back--would come to Baiae, not a stealthy, forbidden lover, but a conqueror, splendid in the triumph of his arms; would enter the villa with a strong hand, and lead her forth in the eyes of all the world--his wife! and then back to Praeneste, to Rome--happy as the Immortals on Olympus; and what came after, Cornelia neither thought nor cared.
On those days the sea was lovely, the sunlight fair, and all the circling sea-gulls as they hovered over the waves cried shrilly one to the other; "How good is all the world!" And then, just as Cornelia was beginning to count the hours,--to wonder whether it would be one day or ten before Drusus would be sufficiently at liberty to ride over hill and dale to Baiae,--Phaon thrust himself upon her.
"Your ladyship," was his curt statement, "will have all things prepared in readiness to take ship for Greece, to-morrow morning." "For Greece!" was the agonized exclamation.
"Certainly; it is useless to conceal matters from your ladyship now.
Caesar has swept all Italy.

Corfinium may fall at any time.

His excellency the consul Lentulus is now at Brundusium.

He orders me to put you on board a vessel that has just finished her lading for the Piraeus." This then was the end of all those glittering day-dreams! Caesar's victories only would transfer Cornelia to a more secure bondage.