The echo had hardly died away when a young Greek slave entered, bearing a cup and a larger vessel of variegated glass. At a nod from his master he filled the cup with wine from the flagon and handed it to Cestus. But that individual hesitated and declined with some amount of confusion. Nothing but the direst need could have compelled him to make such a sacrifice. ‘I dare not drink with an empty stomach—I dare not indeed; ’tis rare wine, but allow me to go, or I shall drop from sheer want of food, most noble patron—indeed I shall!’ ‘Then I will drink it for you, O man of tender stomach—you grow delicate,’ said Afer, with a derisive laugh; ‘fortune to us both!’ He drained it off, and the slave disappeared with the emptied cup. ‘If I want thee soon I can hear of thee at the same place, Cestus?’ ‘As usual!’ ‘I will keep you no longer. Go and feed on the best sausages you can find.’ ‘Thanks, noble patron—you will find me ever ready and devoted.’ ‘As I found thee this morning. Expect to hear of me very soon.’ With these words they emerged into the hall, and Cestus, drawing a long breath as he saw the way clear, went off at a pace which utterly belied his fainting state. CHAPTER III. From the centre of his atrium Afer watched his well‐furnished client retreat down the passage or lobby which led to the street, and marked, with a sour smile, the hasty stride, or almost leap, with which he vanished out of the sunlight which filled the porch. He stood a while with lips compressed, as, with a heart aching with wrath and mortification, he pondered on what had passed, on the sum of money he was lacking, and the hateful manner of its extortion. Then he turned and bade his slaves prepare to accompany him to the bath, which was an indispensable daily luxury to a Roman, and usually indulged in previous to the dinner hour. Though not what Rome would call a wealthy man, T. Domitius Afer was of sufficient means, and from his connection with Fabricius, we may gather, of sufficient right of birth, to rank him among the equestrian order. His house, though small, was incontestably ruled by a master possessing the somewhat rare quality of exquisite taste. Harmony and symmetry reigned over all its appointments, ordered by the still more rare magic of the hand, which rounds off the formal chilliness of perfect chastity and regularity, by an artful and timely touch of graceful negligence. There was no painting, statue, nor carved vase, nor couch, which might not, from its beauty and delicacy of design and finish, have had a place amid the household magnificence of Caesar. The combination of faculties which we call taste can perform wonders of delight with the meanest appliances. It requires inexhaustible resources, together with barbaric ignorance and coarseness, to shock the senses.