"Jerusalem is half-way to Hades." The Roman matron turned, and put her arm around the waist of the girl and drew her close.

A young man rose from his chair and approached them.

He was Vergilius, son of Varro, and of equestrian knighthood.
His full name was Quintus Vergilius Varro, but all knew the youth by his nomen.

Tall and erect, with curly blond locks and blue eyes and lips delicately curved, there was in that hall no ancestral mask or statue so nobly favored.

He had been taught by an old philosopher to value truth as the better part of honor--a view not common then, but therein was a new light, spreading mysteriously.
"Dear Lady Lucia," said he, "I cannot amuse you with idle words.