Lentulus called out in a surly tone to know where his niece was, and the latter was fain to present herself.

It could not be said that the meeting between Cornelia and her uncle was extremely affectionate.

The interchange of kisses was painfully formal, and then Lentulus demanded somewhat abruptly:-- "How have you been spending your time?
With that young ne'er-do-weel son of Sextus Drusus ?" "Quintus was here this morning," said Cornelia, feeling a little reproachful at the manner in which her uncle had spoken of her lover.
"Just back from Rome, I presume ?" said Lentulus, icily, "and he must fly over to the cote of his little dove and see that she hasn't flitted away?
He'd better have a care in his doings.

He'll have something more serious on hand than lovemaking before long." "I don't understand you, uncle," said Cornelia, turning rather red; "Quintus has never done anything for which he has cause to fear." "Oh, he hasn't, eh ?" retorted Lentulus.

"_Mehercle!_ what donkeys you women are! You may go, I want to see your mother." "She is in her own room," said Cornelia, turning her back; "I wish you would not speak to me in that way again." Lentulus wandered through the mazes of courts, colonnades, and the magnificently decorated and finished rooms of the villa, until he came to the chamber of Claudia, his sister-in-law.