The main street of the district which they traversed brought them, in a few minutes, nigh to the river, just where it curved round the point of land. In a right line before them stretched the Aemilian Bridge, leading direct to the Palatine Mount and the city; to the left hand forked another road over the island of the Tiber. At this junction the leading slaves halted and turned to learn their master’s pleasure as to his intended route. The old man hesitated as if undecided, and, as he did so, a slim personage presented himself before the stationary group. Two or three rings on his fingers proclaimed his gentility as a Roman knight, and every fold of his toga was disposed with the most scrupulous exactness. He might be about forty years of age, with straight black hair, a long nose, curved very much downwards, and small black eyes, rather too prominent and close set to be called handsome. As he halted, his lips parted in a smile, which displayed a row of brilliant white teeth. The slaves of Fabricius, on perceiving him, made him marked obeisance. ‘Titus Afer!’ murmured one of them in his master’s ear. Fabricius looked up from his momentary deliberation or abstraction. ‘Ha, nephew, is it you?’ said he. ‘Even so, dear uncle. You seem to be on the horns of a dilemma,’ returned the new‐comer; ‘have you started out to dine, uncle, not having settled where to turn in for your dinner?’ ‘Why, no; I am going to dine with my old friend Florus on the Quirinal—but you, nephew?’ ‘Oh, I!—it is of no consequence—I was coming just to spend an hour with you. It is three days since I have seen you. With your permission I will turn and go along with you, for a space, on your way, whichever it is!’ ‘By the Circus Flaminius; it is less crowded, though a little longer in distance,’ said Fabricius. He gave a slight motion of his hand, indicating the left turn, and they took their way over the Cestian Bridge unto the island of the Tiber, sacred to Aesculapius. Thence by the bridge of Fabricius they were quickly on the opposite bank, and passing round by the outer side of the Capitoline. So far they walked in silence. The elder seemed absorbed in abstraction, and the younger to be waiting, as if in deference to his relative’s cogitations. At length the old man turned his head toward the slaves who followed and waved his hand. They fell back farther in rear. ‘Were you coming to tell me aught of your mission, Titus?’ he began. ‘I went as you desired,’ returned his nephew, nodding. ‘It was good of you, as ever, nephew; but to no purpose, I suppose—as ever,’ said the old man, adding the last words with a weary, half‐ suppressed sigh.