"Is it indeed blest ?" "So said the woman who gave it me." "Now I shall toss it," said she, taking the coin.
"Ah! you would know if I love you," he answered.
The coin leaped high and fell and rolled along the marble walk.

Both followed eagerly, he leading, and, as it stopped, he quickly covered the bit of metal with his hand.
"Let me see!" said she, her hand upon his wrist.
"Do not look." "Let me see it!" she insisted.
"Sweet sister of Appius, I beg of you, here on my knees, do not look at the coin! I will give you the white steeds from Cappadocia, but do not look." "Let me see it, I say, son of Varro!" She was tugging at his wrist, and now, indeed, there was a pretty pleading in her voice.

The words were to him as pearls strung on a silken thread.
"Wait a little." "I shall not wait." "Sweet flower of Rome," said he, looking into her eyes, "I know that you are mine now! Your voice--it is like the love-call of the robin!" "Stubborn boy! Do you think I care for you ?" She stopped and looked into his eyes.
"Else why should you wish to see the coin ?" said he.

"But, look! Upon my soul it is false!" A little silence followed.
"'Tis false!" he repeated.

"I swear the coin lies, for I do love you, dearly." "It does not lie," she whispered.
He put his arm about her.
"And I know," he answered, "why you think it cannot lie.