Do they hate me because I shall give Cæsar a genuine heir? Do they prefer the offspring of Octavia and some Egyptian flute-player? Be a man, Nero! It only needs the smallest display of resolution to suppress these disorders. But if you show yourself timid and incapable, the rebellion may become formidable. If the people despair of making you Octavia's husband, they may make Octavia another's wife.'

The daring and indomitable purpose of the woman succeeded. She goaded his timidity; she fired his rage. He sent for Tigellinus, determined at last to stop short at nothing. With Tigellinus he needed no concealment.

'Præfect,' he said, 'Octavia must at all costs be got rid of.' 'Locusta is here,' said Tigellinus, with alacrity.

'No, no,' said Nero, stamping on the ground; 'I will not have the scene of Britannicus acted over again. I am haunted by too many ghosts already.'

'Devise something,' he said, impatiently, while Tigellinus mused. Poppæa, suggest something to this fool.'

A charge must be made against her,' said Poppaa, eager if possible to shame as well as to kill.

The last charge broke down.'

Nonsense!' answered Poppaa. Say that you have positive evidence that she has made away with her own unborn child.'

'No one will believe it. And, besides, I have just divorced her on the charge of barrenness.'

'Say it all the same, Nero.

must be induced to confess.'

Some person of importance

'Who would be so infamous?' said Nero.

After all, Poppæa, you know she is innocent ten times more innocent than you.'

'Call me some infamous name at once,' said Poppæa, bursting into passion. And is it for you to taunt me? Was it not for love of you that I became faithless to my Otho? No,' she cried, as Nero approached her; 'keep away from me! I will return to the wronged Otho. He loved me. He will take me back.' And she rushed towards the door.

'Poppæa,' pleaded Nero, hasting to intercept her flight, 'forgive me. You see how miserable I am. I have no one

to love me but you.'

And who could help loving you?' she continued, weeping

crocodile tears in floods. Who could resist those golden locks, that lovely countenance, that divine voice?

Her cajolery won the day. Nero played with her hand, and turned an inquiring look on the Prætorian Præfect.

'I have it,' said Tigellinus. Send for Anicetus.'

Nero winced at the name. Anicetus was still admiral of the fleet at Misenum; but, since his share in the murder of Agrippina, Nero could never see him without recalling the image of his mother's blood-stained corpse. He had practically banished Anicetus from Court, and when the sunshine of court favour was withdrawn from him, the wretch had sunk into contempt. But now his unscrupulosity was once more needed for a crime which was, if possible, still blacker. He had murdered Nero's mother by violence; he was to murder Nero's wife by calumny. He was offered a vast reward, and a purely nominal punishment, if he would confess and make it public that Octavia had treasonably tampered with him, to seduce the allegiance of the imperial sailors at Misenum, and that, in furtherance of her object, she had not stopped short of offering him her hand.

The infamous tale was published; and since Nero proclaimed his conviction of its truth, the world was compelled to profess belief in it also, although every man and woman in Rome knew it to be a lie. An edict was published proclaiming Octavia's guilt, and she was banished to the dreary islet of Pandataria.

CHAPTER XLVI

THE DEATH OF OCTAVIA

'O gioia! O ineffabile allegrezza!
O vita intera d' amore e di pace!
O senza brama sicura ricchezza!'

DANTE, Paradiso, xxvii. 7-9.

IN one sense all the people of Rome were the friends of Octavia; in another she was nearly friendless. For the multitudes of every rank were degraded by selfishness and cowed by terror. So long as they were personally untouched by the orgies and crimes of the Emperor, and so long as he was supported by the swords of the Prætorians, they neither wished nor dared to interfere. Rome lay helpless under the bonds of the tyranny which her own vices had riveted. Nero might indeed be murdered, but in what respect would the Empire be better off? There was no Cæsar left. If Nero died, there seemed to be no prospect for Rome except the horrors of civil war with all its attendant pillage, massacre, and crime. It seemed better to endure Nero's infamies than to see the

Empire torn to pieces. After all, were not many of the senators, of the generals, of the aristocracy, capable of becoming as licentious and as cruel as he was, and would not their elevation make their vices loom as monstrous as his ?

They rejoiced, therefore, that the popular tumult had been so speedily repressed, and they steeped their consciences in immoral acquiescence. The bad plunged themselves yet more shamelessly into vice, and manoeuvred to make their vices known as a passport to imperial favour. As for the better Romans, they tried to bury themselves in such obscurity as would shelter them from notice; or they sought solace in the refined egotism of the Epicureans; or inured themselves to the chances of death and ruin by assuming the haughty selfdependence of the later Stoics. Pætus Thrasea and his friends took refuge in the belief that it would be an absurdity to

attempt the impossible. The heart of Seneca was torn with misgivings; but was not he himself in peril? What could he do? He had never spoken out against any one of Nero's crimes, or lifted a finger to prevent them. Lucan longed to overwhelm the Emperor with invective; but he could only brood in silence over his wrongs, and gloomily await the day of vengeance.

From none of these did Octavia receive any help. If they compassionated her misery, no murmur of pity reached her ears. But from those who were now her fellow-Christians she received both help and consolation. Pomponia, whose gentle influence moved fearlessly with halcyon wings over the turbid abyss of crime, exerted herself to add comfort to the dreary retreat of the Empress in the volcanic isle. With her strong good sense she made arrangements for Octavia's comfort. She obtained the leave of her husband, Aulus Plautius, to despatch some of her slaves to Pandataria the very day that the decree of Octavia's banishment was published, with directions to secure for her as fitting a home as was possible, and to take with them such things as might conduce to her well-being. In this she was secretly aided by Acte. The beautiful and generous girl sought an interview with Octavia before she left Campania, fell at her knees, and begged the daughter of Claudius to pardon the wrong which in earlier days her beauty had inflicted. I was but a slave once,' she said; ' nor did I know the truths which have since been taught me. I have forsaken the past. Empress, you will forgive me, and accept such little services as I can render?'

Rise, Acte!' said Octavia, with tender dignity. 'I know that thy heart was innocent, and that no wiles of thine were spread to catch Nero's love. I forgive thee. Who am I, in my misery, that I should condemn thee?'

She raised the weeping girl from the ground, and gently kissed her. 'Do not weep any more,' she said. Acte, it has been told me that thou art a Christian. Nay, start not, and see how much I trust thee. I am a Christian, too.'

Acte was almost speechless with surprise; but Octavia continued: Yes; thou seest that I put my life in thy hands; but are we not sisters now? I used to talk with my brother Britannicus about this new faith, and often with Pomponia,

and now I have seen Lucas of Antioch, and from him I have heard of Jesus. Lucas has lent me the letters of Paulus of Tarsus. He has written that "not many rich, not many noble, not many mighty are called;" but though I am noble, I am poor, and weak, and unhappy except for that consolation which He who died for us sends to the sorrowful.'

'God be praised,' said Acte, that thou hast found that peace.'

'Yes,' answered the Empress; 'peace I can truly say in the midst of shame, and slander, and tumult. My life will be short; but for us, Acte, the islands of the blest, of which the poets sang, are neither dreams nor fables. Farewell.'

Farewell, Empress,' said Acte. Day and night will our brethren lift up holy hands for thee, and many a purer prayer than mine will rise for thee like incense.'

As Acte left the villa she passed Onesimus. She had long been ignorant of his fate, and shame prevented him from speaking to her. He recognised her at a glance, but she did not penetrate the disguise which changed him into a fairhaired slave, and he shrank back from her presence. He regretted when it was too late that he had not revealed himself to her, for even now she might possibly have retarded the tragedies which were to ensue. Alas! when once men have shown themselves unfaithful, how often do their best impulses come too late!

But he devoted himself heart and soul to the service of the young Empress. She had been permitted to take with her into exile one or two only of her hundreds of slaves. She had chosen Tryphæna to be one of these, though the poor girl, after her cruel torments, was still barely able to stand. She had also chosen Onesimus, by the advice of Pomponia, though she did not yet know that he had been brought under Christian influence.

Nor was he the only disguised Christian in that small and saddened household. The position of Hermas since his rescue from the house of Pedanius had been very perilous. If he were recognised, the fact of his having escaped might be fatal to others besides himself. The Christians were mostly too poor to introduce a stranger into their households. They would have been willing to share with each other the last