‘I will!’ cried Masthlion, stung into anger and despair by the fierce tone of his kinsman; ‘I will do my duty to the labour of my life—its fame shall be mine and shall cling to me though everything fall away.’ ‘Life included,’ sneered Cestus. ‘Let it, if it be so fated. It seems less bright than it did.’ CHAPTER XV. When they were called in to supper the two women were awaiting them, bright‐eyed and radiant, at a modest, but well‐filled table. Their new‐ found cheerfulness, however, was doomed to a brief existence. Cestus remained silent and gloomy; and Masthlion, equally taciturn, despatched his meal rapidly, as though it were a task to be well rid of. Their dampened spirits were still more depressed, when the potter, immediately on swallowing the last mouthful, announced, in a blunt, matter‐of‐fact way, his intended visit to Capreae. With a certain amount of dismay they at once expressed their disapprobation of the undertaking. It oppressed them with a sense of dread—it was of too great a magnitude. The very name of Caesar filled them with awe. They used their best efforts to dissuade the potter, assisted by the interjectory remarks and sarcasms of Cestus; but they plainly saw that their efforts were doomed to be vain. Masthlion bade them put away their fears, and, with something of his natural manner, clapped his wife gently on the shoulder as he went back to his workshop. Without being reassured, the women went silently about their work of removing the supper things, their hearts as heavy as before they had been cheerful. ‘Have _you_ put this into his head?’ demanded Tibia suddenly of her brother. Her glance was suspicious and her tone unusually sharp. ‘Have I put it into his head?’ replied Cestus, with concentrated scorn. ‘Oh, to be sure. Had I put it into his head, in the first place, I should hardly have taken the trouble I have to drive it out again.’ His sister being silenced he said no more, and sat tilting himself backward and forward, in moody silence, on his stool. Neæra bestowed on him one or two lofty glances, which plainly showed that her ideas flowed in the same direction as the dame’s. She said nothing, however, and glided hither and thither, in and out, in her occupation. Presently she went quietly to the door of the workshop, and, tapping gently, asked for admission. Cestus caught the sounds and stopped his restless motion. The door creaked open, and by and by it closed again, and Neæra returned into the passage. The Suburan’s quick ear heard the voices of the two females mingling outside. There was a smothered sob, and presently a light foot sped up the stairs. Tibia then came into the room to give a parting touch to its arrangements before retiring for the night. Her face was more dejected than ever. ‘She has been in to see him,’ observed Cestus. Tibia nodded yes. ‘And did no good, I can tell.’