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240 DARKNESS AND DAWN
she had passed. She lay on her couch an object for even her
enemies to pity. The strong, imperial, ambitious princess
was utterly broken down in her only the weeping, brokenhearted
woman remained. In spite of her apparent victory,
her life, and all its aims, and all it held dear, lay in ruins
around her. Even hope was gone. What remained for her
but remorse, and anguish, and the cup of humiliation, and the
agonising recollection of a brilliant past which she had herself
destroyed ? There were no loyal friends around her. No
children's faces smiled upon her. There was no brother, or
to comfort her. Those to whom she had
sister, or daughter
been a benefactress either felt no gratitude, or did not dare to
show it, or deemed that she had forfeited it
by crimes. Homeless,
desolate, unloved, left like a stranded wreck by the ebbing
tide upon a naked shore, she lay there weeping like a
child. Oh ! that she had been innocent, like her own mother
like one or two whom she had known; but, alas! she
could only look back upon a life of guilt, flecked here and
there with blood which nothing could wash out. And now
the Retribution which she had doubted and defied the
Retribution which had been stealing with silent footstep behind
her had broken upon her crowned with fire, and had
smitten her into the dust with a blow from which she never
could uprise.
And while her head burned and throbbed, and her veins
seemed to be full of liquid flame, and ghosts of those who had
perished by her machinations glimmered upon her haunted
imagination in the deepening gloom, her lady in waiting, Acerronia,
came to announce a visitor.
'
Did I not say that I would see no one else to-day ? '
said Agrippina, wearily.
'
I am worn out, and fain would
sleep.'
'
It is
Pomponia Grsecina. She told the janitor that though
you might not see others who belong to the Court, perhaps you
would see her.'
Yes ; I will see her. She is not like the rest of them.
'
She is sincere, and her presence is like balm.'
Pomponia entered, and could scarcely believe that the
lady who lay there, with her dress disregarded, her face
haggard and stricken, her eyes dim, her cheeks stained
with tears, her hair dishevelled, and, as Pomponia thought,