"Never," Caenis told him softly. The dim lamplight wavered on that wonderfully jovial face, so the shadow of his nose hooked in a mad slant over one cheek, while the outline of his chin lapped wildly down into the hollow of his throat.

"Never? Oh, I think in many ways you always were. . . ." She felt like a flattered queen. He said, shining with joy for her, "You look as if your heart could burst with pride. You should have told me you had been made up—I suppose you know I've followed you about all day. I won't tell you the things I was starting to imagine when I saw how you were queening it. Fortunately the Saepta Julia shuts up shop quite late."

The Saepta Julia was the market for jewelry and antiques; Caenis reckoned it was not one of Vespasian's customary haunts. "I thought the Saepta was where a gentleman goes when he wants to waste a great deal of money."

"Spend a lot, anyway," remarked Vespasian lightly. "There you are. With my congratulations. Don't get excited; you can't eat it." Withdrawing his right hand from the fold of his toga, he dropped a small but heavy package into her lap. It was tied with the kind of sleek ribbon that stated that the contents had been purchased at hideous cost.

Deeply troubled, Caenis shook her head. "My word, this does look like a bribe, senator!"

"Sadly for me, I know you can't be bought. Go on."

"What is it?" She was as stubborn as ever.

"New shackles." He waited for her to look. It was a good gold bangle, in strikingly elegant taste, and of first-quality gold. "Since you like to sit in the dark," he said, "I shall have to tell you I had your name engraved inside—so you can't pawn it, and neither can you take it back. Your name, and also," he added bravely, "mine."

There was a very slight pause.

"It's lovely. . . . You can't afford it," she protested. "You know you can't."