The time was drifting on.

Before many days Lentulus Crus and Caius Clodius Marcellus would be consuls, and the anti-Caesarians would be ready to work their great opponent's undoing, or be themselves forever undone.

Where was Drusus?
What was he doing?
What part would he play in the struggle, perhaps of arms, about to begin?
O for one sight of him, for one word! And the hunger in Cornelia's breast grew and grew.
[133] _Latrunculi_.
Many are our wishes.

Some flit through our hearts like birds darting under the foliage of trees, then out again, lost in the sunshine; others linger awhile and we nestle them in our bosoms until we forget that they are there, and the noble desire, the craving for something dear, for something that bears for us as it were a divine image, is gone--we are the poorer that we no longer wish to wish it.

But some things there are--some things too high or too deep for speech, too secret for really conscious thought, too holy to call from the innermost shrines of the heart; and there they linger and hover, demanding to be satisfied, and until they are satisfied there is void and dreariness within, be the sunshine never so bright without.