As if his pitiless brutality were a matter of humour, the wretch accompanied it with a grin. The poor woman gave an agonised cry, and sank down beneath his terrible words, as though pierced with the kinder thrust of a sword. ‘You have killed her,’ said one of his comrades. ‘Not I,’ returned Plautus; ‘she’ll make a sturdy widow yet—it was well behaved to go off in that fashion and save us trouble.’ The insensible dame’s mouth was gagged, her poor, frail limbs tied, and then the room ransacked. There was nothing, however, which seemed worthy of any particular notice, and they proceeded to devote a similar attention to the remainder of the house. Every glass article was smashed, to prove it did not possess the interdicted malleable quality, and, in the search for whatever might have some bearing on the same luckless invention, the whole of the poor appointments of the dwelling were tossed hither and thither. This process was very rapid and thorough, and occupied only a few minutes. The workshop outside was then entered, and a work of devastation entered upon. The furnace was pulled down bodily. Every article which could be destroyed was utterly wrecked. Every nook and cavity was zealously raked out and explored, and finally, when the rigorous examination was completed, the potter’s tools, which had been gathered together, were thrust in a sack and carried away. In another minute the marauders had regained their horses. The whole campaign had been executed with a rapidity, silence, and completeness which left nothing to be desired, and reflected the highest credit on the discipline of the Imperial household. CHAPTER XXII. No tidings of Masthlion having been received for three days, his brother‐ in‐law, Cestus, had given himself up to the gloomiest forebodings. At the end of the second day he had used all the arts of his persuasion to induce Neæra and his sister to set off for Rome. At their distinct, unreasoning refusal he had lost his temper, with the effect of causing his tongue, in desperation, to speak more violently than he would otherwise have thought prudent. The discourse had been suddenly brought to a close, by the abrupt retirement of Neæra from the room, at which the worthy Suburan, in a rage, slunk out of the house, to go and drown his anxiety and harassments at his favourite wine‐shop. A scene of much the same character had occurred on the following evening, and, in a still more violent fit, he had again quitted the now detested dwelling of his sister, to seek the solace of copious draughts of liquor. Whilst he was thus engaged in a temporary return to his old indulgent habits, we have seen what occurred at home.