Читать книгу No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal онлайн

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Claudius conducted her to the chariot with an easy grace which he inherited from his mother.

He had been quick to notice the cloud which he had called up on the lady’s face, and Junia’s laugh reached his ear, as, turning to some young associates with whom she was popular, he heard her repeating the news of the day to them.

“I crave pardon if I have seemed to fail in respect, lady,” he said. “I must ask leave to visit Casca before sunset.”

Cæcilia bowed, and smiled graciously.

“We shall see you at supper-time,” she said. “My husband has bidden the Greek dancing-girls to perform before us, and one of them plays the lute with uncommon skill. This will afford amusement for you and Casca.”

Claudius thought truly that Casca was in no mood for dancing-girls and music, but scarcely expected to find him in the state of melancholy prostration in his chamber, which at first seemed almost like despair.

Claudius had a warm heart, and was sincerely attached to his friend.

He took his accustomed place opposite him, and rallied him on his sad looks.