Cornelia came to the dais, and there gave the slightest inclination of her head--the greeting of a mistress to slaves--to the group of courtiers.

She advanced straight toward the royal chair and stretched forth her hand.
"I am your debtor, O queen, for a kindness that I may not soon, I fear, repay--unless you come to Rome." She spoke as a superior addressing an inferior who had rendered some slight service.

The queen rose from her seat and took the proffered hand without the least hesitation.
"And I will ask for none other reward than that you do honour to my entertainment." The voice was wonderfully soft, modulated, and ringing; like an instrument of many strings.

Every syllable blended into the next in perfect harmony; to hear a few words was like listening unto music.
Cornelia knew later, when she was older and had thought more, that the queen had instantly caught the defiant mood of her guest, and thereupon left nothing unspared to conciliate it.

At that moment, however, she attempted no such analysis of motive.