Although the intervention of the vestal and the kindly ruse of Pudens had saved the life of Onesimus, his condition was far from enviable. He was once more--now for the third time in his life--in overwhelming disgrace. It is true that all the legal customs were observed, in a house controlled by that respect for archæology which the fashion had been set by Augustus. The chains were taken off his limbs and flung out of the court through the impluvium. None the less he felt that he was marked and shunned. One day, after his escape, Nero passed him in one of the corridors, and, struck by the appearance of a handsome youth, beckoned him to approach. He came forward trembling, and the Emperor, peering into his face, recognised the purple-keeper of Octavia. Inspired by sudden disgust at the memories thus called to his recollection, he summoned his dispensator Callicles into his presence, and ordered him to get rid of ‘that worthless Phrygian.’ ‘Shall I put him in prison, or have him sent again to the ergastulum at Antium?’ asked Callicles. ‘Neither,’ said Nero. ‘The City Prætor, Pedanius Secundus, is about to give some votive games of beasts and gladiators. Make a present to him of this youth.’ Onesimus heard the words, and his heart sank within him. But resistance was useless. On his way he passed the door of Acte’s apartments, and not without peril ventured to sing a few notes of the old Thyatiran ballad which had first attracted her notice. She heard it, and came out. ‘That youth comes from my native land,’ she said to the dispensator. ‘Step back a few paces and let me have a word with him.’ Callicles would hardly have granted the favour to any one else, but every one loved Acte, and he only said, ‘If Nero should come?’... ‘I will hold you clear,’ said Acte. Onesimus, overcome with shame, knelt on one knee, kissed the fringe of her robe, and whispered, ‘Oh, Acte, I am condemned to be a gladiator.’ ‘In which school?’ ‘Under Rutulus, the trainer of Pedanius Secundus--the cruellest man in Rome.’ He told her something of his story, and she saw that to help him was beyond her power. All she could do was to slip into his hand her own purse, and to tell him that if ever the day came when she could befriend him she would do her utmost. More she dared not say, for the suspicious eyes of Callicles were upon her, and she had to repress the emotion which agitated her frame.