“I was but pointing out to thee we were not Olympians to command the clouds, nor, alas! of those who found the tribute-money miraculously stored in the mouths of fishes. What thou commandest must certainly be done. But what can then be done with the captives we shall have to see.” They returned together to the atrium, and Fabricius, addressing Baithene, said gravely— “My son writes that thou art a prince in thine own land. I fear we have too many princes here already to have much room for more.” “I am no prince now,” said Baithene, raising his frank, fearless eyes to Fabricius, “at least I have no kingdom and no subjects; and what we call a kingdom in our country would perhaps seem but a wilderness to thee.” There was no complaining in his tone, simply the acknowledgment of an unpleasant fact; and no defiance in his look, only a kind of princely sense that nothing could rob him of his birthright, or change what he was in himself, or prevent his conquering circumstances by making the best of them. The old Roman patrician was touched, he felt he had met an equal; but all he said was— “Thy dog, at all events, seems a prince of dogs.” And Bran acknowledged the compliment by an acquiescent wag of his tail. Then turning to Miriam, Fabricius said—“I would see thy husband.” “I will fetch him at once,” she replied. And without another word she went and brought in Eleazar, who was still keeping guard outside the gate. Fabricius took the old man to his private room, and as a matter of course there was some bargaining between them. The Roman noble pleaded with much truth the badness of the times; the Jewish merchant pleaded with much plausibility the poverty of his race, and his own especial losses on this purchase. But the arrangement was soon concluded; and Eleazar and Miriam returned alone to the tall houses beyond the Tiber, leaving Ethne, Baithene, and the dog in the palace on the Aventine. As Miriam went, she bowed with an Oriental gesture, and kissed the hand of Damaris. “Your Christ is good,” she murmured with a quivering voice, “and so are some of His Christians.” “Our Christ is yours!” said Damaris, in a low voice. Miriam made no reply for a moment, and then with passionate intensity she said— “Pray to your God and ours, that if your Christ is ours we may know it in time, I and my husband, and our captive child whom we have lost.” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII. SUNSET MEETING DAWN. When Eleazar and Miriam had left, Fabricius took Baithene and the dog into quarters of their own; whilst Damaris led Ethne within into her own rooms. “My child,” she said, “you have been used to be served by others, not to serve. The change must have been hard.” “The service of our own people was always willing,” replied Ethne, the colour deepening on her fair cheek. “And I have tried to make my service willing; and then it is not hard.”