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

52 страница из 55

“Hist! good Casca, be not too free with thy tongue, or it may bring trouble. Keep thy thoughts to thyself; even now I fancy I see the curtain moving. But I must away; I have to practise in the course, and I have to attend my father to a trial of strength in the circus, where he is to bestow a prize on the swiftest runner and strongest arm in throwing the quoit. Vale! good Casca, and pluck up thy courage.” Claudius sprang lightly from the couch, swept the curtain aside, and disappeared.

In the gallery, which I have before described, at the top of the villa, he found Hyacintha. She was looking out over the country, as she had looked with Ebba two days before. When Claudius stood by her side she raised her pure, sweet eyes to his, and said, “I have been here whilst thou hast been talking to Casca. I wanted to speak to you, so I waited here. I am only a child, and I scarcely know which way I should turn to find the good and forsake the evil, but this I know, Ebba was good—faithful and good—and I dread lest she should be cruelly killed. Claudius,” the child continued, pleading with her eyes as with her voice, “Claudius, will you try to save her if by any means she falls in your way? If the Christians are found out she will be found with them. Do your utmost to save her life, my noble, good Ebba.”