They made many converts, and the splendid beauty of Berenice and Drusilla, the daughters of Herod Agrippa I., together with the wealth of their brother, Agrippa II., had given them a prominent position in distinguished circles. To their father, the brilliant adventurer Agrippa I., the favourite of Caligula, Claudius had practically owed his elevation to the Empire, since he it was who induced the senators to acquiesce in that uncouth dominion. The streets of Rome were full of persons who lived in semi-pauperism; lazzaroni who had nothing to depend upon but the _sportula_ or dole supplied by noble and wealthy families, or grants of corn made at nominal prices by the Emperor. They lived anyhow, by their wits and by their vices. In that sunny climate the wants of life are few, and they found abundance of excitement and amusement, while they could hardly be left to starve amid the universal profusion which sometimes squandered millions of sesterces over a single meal. But few of the dregs of the people presented a more miserable aspect than a Phrygian youth who was loitering aimlessly about the Forum near the hour of noon. The Forum was nearly deserted, for most of the people were taking their siesta, and the youth sat down, looking the picture of wretchedness. He was pale and thin, as though he had gone through many hardships. His tunic was soiled and ragged, and he appeared to be, as he was, a homeless and friendless stranger, alone among the depraved and selfish millions of the world’s capital. While he was thinking what he had best do to allay the pangs of hunger, he saw a young student enter the Forum followed by a little slave. He paid no particular attention to them, but a few moments later his curiosity was aroused, first by hearing the blows of an axe, and then by seeing the student run hastily out of the Forum with the slave-child at his heels. Strolling to the corner from which the sounds had come, he found himself opposite to the lattice-work which projected over the shops of the silversmiths, and seeing an axe lying on the ground, picked it up, and examined it. Alarmed by a rush of feet, he looked up and saw the ‘bucket-men’[29] (as the mob nicknamed the police) running up to him. While he was wondering what they could want, he found himself rudely arrested, and saluted with a volley of violent abuse.[30] ‘What have I done?’ he asked in Greek. ‘What have you done, you thievish rascal? You ask that, when we have caught you, axe in hand, hewing at and stealing the lead of the roof?’