Her name would become a laughing-stock and a hissing, to be put on a par with Clodia's or that of any other frivolous woman, unless she not merely gave up the man she loved, but also threw herself into the arms of the man she utterly hated.

The craving for any respite was intense.

She was young; but for the moment, at least, life had lost every glamour.

If death was an endless sleep, why not welcome it as a blessed release?
The idea of suicide had a grasp on the ancient world which it is hard at first to estimate.

A healthy reaction might have stirred Cornelia out of her despair, but at that instant the impulse needed to make her commit an irrevocable deed must have been very slight.