‘Worshipful Zeno!’ he chuckled, rising from his knees and lifting his filthy hands in exceeding admiration; ‘worshipful Zeno!’ ‘It is all fair and smooth now, old wine‐presser,’ returned Zeno in a guarded voice, giving him a playful buffet on the shoulder in high good humour. ‘What a high and mighty goddess it is! Why, the granddaughter of old Tiberius up yonder is a mere cottage girl to this! But the villa is a rare mill for such! She leaves Capreae soon—ha, ha!’ ‘And you know how I helped you?’ rejoined Tucca. ‘Truly!’ replied the other, and he went to the door and signed to his slaves. Returning, he finished his wine, and then paced thoughtfully up and down the floor till the object of his care should make her appearance. In a few minutes she entered, attired for her short journey and followed by her female slave. ‘I am ready,’ she said briefly, and Zeno opened the door. The litter was set down opposite, and his hand drew back one curtain, whilst a slave, on bended knee, drew back the other. As she set her foot inside a whining voice bade her ‘A fair journey.’ ‘Ah, I forgot!’ said Plautia, turning back to the cringing Tucca in the doorway; ‘here is payment for my lodging.’ ‘By your leave, gracious Plautia, not a sesterce!’ interposed the vigilant Zeno; ‘he shall receive his due.’ ‘Yes, from me—Caesar may add what he please!’ rejoined she haughtily. ‘Stand back—I would speak with him!’ They retired a few steps at her bidding, and she held out a gold coin toward the old man. ‘Here—this for your trouble!’ He clutched the shining piece in his filthy, horned fingers with a grasp of surprise and delight, and thereupon she added in a lower tone, ‘You have betrayed me, wretch!’ ‘I—most bounteous lady?’ he exclaimed, starting. ‘Not a word—not a whisper, or may the gods strike me dead at your feet!’ His wavering glance wandered from her stern, penetrating eyes to the form of Zeno, who stood apart with folded arms and frowning gaze fixed upon him. ‘No—no! May the gods strike me dead at your feet!’ he repeated. ‘Enough—I shall know—and beware!’ She turned away from him feebly iterating, and without more delay entered the litter and reclined therein. The slaves lifted her up and proceeded on their way, at a pace, which was somewhat retarded by the company of her faithful attendant, who walked by her side, and without whom she refused to move one yard, in spite of all Zeno’s efforts to the contrary. The bleak morning wore on, but was as yet young when Afer, cloaked and hooded against the raw, blustering weather, knocked at the door of Tucca’s dwelling, and demanded to see Plautia. When the grimy, greasy wine‐grower explained her departure to him, with much obsequious cringing, the knight was so incredulous that he stalked into the hovel to examine for himself. Finding the state of the case to be as related, he desired to be informed whither the lady had gone. ‘I did not inquire—not I,’ said Tucca cautiously. ‘Went she alone?’