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him—never felt wholly at ease in his presence.

    Part of this unease was due to the man himself, for Antonius Caius was not the most outgoing personality in the world; but more of the unease stemmed from the fact that Caius always felt an estimation on the part of his uncle of the difference between what the nephew actually was and what Antonius Caius would like the young Roman to measure up to. Caius suspected that the legend of the virtuous and austere Roman youth, dedicated to civic duty, a brave soldier first moving through the steps of officer advancement, marrying some upright Roman maiden, rearing a family like the Gracchi, serving the state unselfishly and well, moving from post to post, becoming consul finally, revered and honored by the plain and simple folk as well as the people of title and wealth, moral and upright throughout, was never less of a reality than now; and Caius himself knew of no such young Romans. The young men who surrounded Caius in the social life of Rome were interested in a number of things; some of them were dedicated to the conquest of astronomical numbers of young ladies; others caught the disease of money at a tender age and were already, in their twenties, engaged in a number of illegal commercial enterprises; still others learned the trade of ward heeling, plodding doggedly through the dirty routine of day to day work in the wards, buying and selling votes, bribing, fixing, conniving, learning from the bottom up the trade their fathers practiced so ably; still others made careers of food, becoming discerning gourmets; and a very few went into the army which, as a career for a young gentleman, was becoming less and less popular. So Caius, who as a member of that largest group of all—which dedicated itself to the dull task of passing days as idly and as pleasantly as possible—considered himself to be a harmless if not indispensable citizen of the great republic, resented the unspoken accusation which Antonius, his uncle, so frequently expressed. To Caius, live and let live summed up a civilized and workable philosophy.

    He thought of this as they entered the vast expanse of formal garden and lawn which surrounded the villa itself. The extensive barns, corrals and slave quarters which constituted the industrial base of the plantation, were separate from the living quarters, and no hint of them, no hint of ugliness or struggle was allowed to intrude upon the classic serenity of the house. The villa itself, an enormous square house built around a central court and pool, stood on top of a slight elevation. Whitewashed, roofed with weathered red tile, it was not unlovely in itself, and the hardness of its plain lines was relieved by the tasteful arrangement of tall cedars and poplars all around it. The grounds were landscaped in what was known as the Ionian style, with many flowering shrubs trained to grow into unusual shapes, smooth lawns, summer houses of colored marble, alabaster basins for tropical fish, and numerous pieces of traditional lawn statuary, nymphs and pans and fawns and cherubs. Antonius Caius had a standing purchase offer at the highest price in the Roman markets where skilled Greek sculptors and landscapers were sold; he never stinted on this—although it was said that he had no taste himself and merely followed the advice of his wife, Julia. Caius believed this, for he was not without taste himself and he saw no trace of it in his uncle. While there were many other villas more splendid than the Villa Salaria, some like the palaces of oriental potentates, Caius could think of none in better taste or lovelier in setting. Claudia agreed with him. As they came through the gates and onto the brick road that approached the house, Claudia gasped with surprise, and said to Helena,

    “It’s like nothing I ever dreamed of! It’s like something out of the Greek myths.”

    “It’s a very pleasant place,” Helena agreed.

    The two young daughters of Antonius Caius saw them