But Drusus did not gaze at the nymph.

Close beside the image, half lying, half sitting, in an abandon only to be produced by a belief that she was quite alone, rested a young woman.

It was Cornelia.
Drusus had made no disturbance, and the object on which he fastened his eyes had not been in the least stirred out of a rather deep reverie.

He stood for a while half bashful, half contemplative.
Cornelia had taken off her shoes and let her little white feet trail down into the water.

She wore only her white tunic, and had pushed it back so that her arms were almost bare.