Nemestronia, at eighty-odd, was as dainty and charming an old lady as the sun ever shone on.

And as lovable as any woman alive.

I loved her dearly, as all Rome loved her dearly, and I ranked myself high among her countless honorary grandsons, for her motherly ways made her seem an honorary grandmother to all young noblemen whom she favored.
After a heart-warming chat she said: "I must go now, by Galen's orders.

Before I go I want to ask you whether you are coming here tomorrow ?" "Certainly!" I cried, looking about me with delight.

"Could there, can there, be in Rome a more Elysian spot in which to feel health being restored to one ?" She beamed at me.
"Be sure to be here," she said.