‘It is enough,’ he said; ‘I admit the disappointment, but it is unavoidable. At the same time your honest perseverance merits praise, whatever its fate. We may be able to recompense you in some way. You are a poor man, and I am told you have a comely daughter—let her come to Capreae and attend on this noble lady, whose interest you have won. In addition to the great honour and advancement it will confer on the girl, she will be bestowed upon the protection and kindness of the best of mistresses. It is a chance such as seldom offers.’ The words fell on Masthlion like a blight. Terror froze his heart with an icy grip, and animation seemed congealed, for a few moments, so sudden and dread was the blow. The warnings and censure of his kinsman came back upon him. Their echo no longer sounded foolish. He was in the toils—in the midst of the vast palace, with guards and sleepless eyes environing down the water’s edge. In the very clutch of the ruthless being, the savour of whose public reputation was as the scent of blood: whose simple request was tantamount to a command. How came he to know of her existence? Those two visitors to his shop, whom Cestus had warned him of! But then Neæra was as well known in the town as himself. His mind flew back to his lowly home, and pictured his darling so vividly, that the fire of desperation rose upon the chill horror which filled him. She, who was all purity and womanliness, to inhabit there! They might rend him in pieces ere he would consent. He moistened his parched lips with his tongue, and could scarcely trust his voice to frame an answer. He looked up again. Caesar and the beautiful woman were watching him. The immovable eyes of the former seemed to pierce him to the marrow, and he shuddered. ‘What troubles you, fellow?’ said Tiberius, in harsh tones; ‘have you not a daughter to send hither?’ ‘So please you, Caesar, and this noble lady, I have a daughter, and I am grateful for the gracious favour you propose for her; but for her to leave me would be to take from my life the only joy and consolation it has left, since the hopes of my work have been destroyed.’ ‘Tush! This is the way that the maudlin childishness of old age speaks, and not the common‐sense words of hale and hearty manhood. The lady has need of her—it will be to the benefit of the girl, and she will be nigh at hand for your occasional visits.’ ‘The noble lady will not deal so hardly with us,’ said Masthlion; ‘she will not insist on removing from our poor home the only light it possesses?’ ‘My service will be easy and pleasant, and the girl will be happy—you distress yourself without reason,’ said Plautia, with singular satisfaction at the unexpected turn things had taken. ‘Enough,’ said Tiberius, ‘it is settled. It is the bare idea which frightens you—you will grow wiser on reflection. Now go—you will receive your instructions to‐morrow.’