The dame this time shook her head, and remained standing, with one hand on her hip and the other underneath a kind of apron which she wore over her gown, as if ready to lift it to stanch the drops which struggled into her patient eyes. ‘Very well, then,’ continued her brother, ‘we may as well give the matter up, for the man will go his own way. It’s of no use to show him his madness. That being the case, there is something you must know without any further delay, since he is determined to throw himself away. Wait and I will bring him in.’ ‘He is busy, Cestus,’ dissuaded she. ‘He will have to make a few moments’ leisure, however,’ was the reply, and the Suburan went accordingly to summon the potter. The latter obeyed without demur on learning the reason for his required presence. Cestus shut the door and took his former position on his stool. ‘Brother‐in‐law, since you will not listen to reason concerning this errand of yours to Capreae, and since I have small hope of ever seeing you return, Tibia must hear, in your presence, what I have already told you alone. Your life is your own, and if you are determined to shorten it at once you can do so, I suppose. That is your own matter, and you can settle it with or without your wife’s help. But in the matter of the child called Neæra, I am concerned; and as you are about to rob me of my best witness in her case, I must arrange matters as best I may, so as to be able to do without you.’ ‘You put it in a pleasant way, kinsman,’ returned Masthlion, smiling; ‘but as you are bent on putting me to death I won’t argue the point. Nevertheless I agree with you that it is time Tibia should know what we know about our child—I still call her ours, you see. It was only at your wish that I have kept silence as long as this. Tell her the story—I cannot.’ Tibia sat looking from one to the other in her mute way, her hands lying folded in her lap, and her eyes full of anxious curiosity. What new trouble was this which was about to be launched upon her? Was it the secret which had darkened her husband’s face so long? Was it not enough to be told that he was about to throw away his life on the morrow? Cestus, her brother, was the cloud upon her house. It was time he left it, since matters had seemed to go strangely wrong with the hour of his arrival. What of the child Neæra? He had brought her there—did he want to take her away again?