‘None at all!’ rejoined Afer, with another and deeper sigh. ‘The woman was six‐and‐twenty years old if she was a day; and, as for her appearance, she was as likely to have grown from your Aurelia, as a barn‐door fowl from an eaglet. These tales and rumours are detailed by knavish people simply to work upon your weakness, uncle, and to squeeze your purse—why listen to them?’ ‘Ah, nephew—how can I shut my ears?’ ‘You are an unfailing, bottomless gold‐mine to these people.’ ‘Oh!’ cried the old man fervidly, throwing up his open palm to the blue heavens, and looking up with a burning glance of his sunken, sorrow‐laden eyes, ‘if the good gods would only give me back my lost darling, the joy of my old age,—my gold, and all that I have, to the last farthing, might be flung, if need be, broadcast over the streets of Rome.’ The black brows of the nephew knitted at the vehement words. ‘And, truly, if what you have spent already, uncle, on this vain quest were sown broadcast, there would scarce be a gutter vagabond in the city that would not be the richer. You have done all you can do, and I have helped to the best of my ability.’ ‘You have, nephew, right nobly. Think not that I have forgotten it.’ ‘Then why cast good after bad? Will you not be assured after all these silent years of the hopelessness of all efforts?’ ‘If I lived to a hundred years, nephew, I could never sever hope from me—it is part of me.’ ‘And I have none left, though I grieve to say it, and, moreover, my reason is less governed by feeling than yours—poor Aurelia!’ ‘The gods overlook us,’ said Fabricius, with a quiver in his voice, while the lips of the other curled in scorn. ‘The impudent scoundrel, whom you sent to pilot me to his supposed discovery, demanded two thousand sesterces ere he would budge. It is horrible, but I was forced to pay the extortioner. I would not mention it, uncle, but for my misfortune of being not too well provided with property.’ ‘It shall cost thee no more than it ever has,’ returned Fabricius; ‘thou shalt have it back and another two thousand, as well, for thy kindness.’ ‘Nay—I should seem to make a trade of robbing you like the rest of them.’ ‘Say no more, nephew, I insist upon it.’ The other shrugged his shoulders and was silent, and so they reached the foot of the Quirinal Hill, upon which the house was situated where Fabricius was to dine. Here Afer halted. ‘You are for the bath then?’ said Fabricius. ‘Even so; and then to dine with Apicius.’ ‘Ah! we old‐fashioned men dine at an old‐fashioned hour. This Apicius gives feasts such as we could never dream of.’ ‘The finest in Rome.’ ‘Well, every one to their own tastes. Florus and myself will, no doubt, enjoy our modest entertainment as much as Apicius his profusion, though it cost nothing in proportion. It is a foolish, empty way of spending one’s money, Titus.’