The cheek of the conspirator flushed, and from beneath his gathering brows he flashed a look as dangerous and dark as a thundercloud. ‘Be not offended, Prefect,’ said Apicius; ‘I act as a true friend who fears not the truth, and not as a parasite, who bestows nothing but what may prove pleasant to the ear.’ His cold, mocking tone belied his words, and, ere he finished, Zoilus, with a face purple with rage and fury, had jumped from his seat and dashed the article he had uncovered to the floor. It was a small figure of a negro, carved in ebony, having its nakedness barely draped in a ludicrous fashion with a little cloak of figured silk. ‘What!’ cried Apicius jibingly; ‘displeased with the image of your grandfather?’ But Zoilus, speechless and shuddering with his boiling feelings, rushed from the room with his slaves. He was followed by a titter, which the biting satire of the proceeding even wrung from the offended natures of the others. Torquatus sat scowling before a small stand, on which was placed a common wooden platter having a copper coin in the centre. Pansa evinced his disgust of a similar stand bearing a diminutive cup of silver. The figure of a very ancient goat on its hind legs, having a garland of roses around its horns, caused Flaccus to fume and fret immoderately. Afer smiled scornfully upon a miniature gilded weather‐vane; whilst a mirror, upheld by an Apollo, with an averted face, was regarded by Charinus with ineffable disdain. Thus had Apicius amused his invention. A small bronze casket was deemed sufficient for Martialis. It was unpretentious in its outward appearance; but a fast‐locked box ever provokes curiosity. ‘Lift it, Martialis!’ snapped Torquatus derisively, ‘and see whether it be filled with iron, or chaff, or what is lighter still—emptiness.’ ‘There is the key, my Caius,’ said Apicius, in answer, drawing the article from his breast and handing it to his friend. ‘Before you leave the house you shall use it—at present, sad necessity must deprive any one of the pleasure of seeing what the box contains. Dear friends,’ he added, turning his eyes upon them, ‘I grieve that my trifling tributes should not, by appearances, have pleased you. Had I been less truthful and more liberal, probably you would have overwhelmed me with gratitude. At least I have ever found it thus. There is little more to add save farewell—Caius, give me thy hand.’ The hand was extended and grasped fervently by Apicius, who then lifted the napkin before him. A richly chased gold cup, studded with jewels, was exposed, gorgeous and glowing, to the expectant gaze of all. The eyes of Torquatus, Flaccus, and Pansa kindled. Sejanus still sat motionless, with a cloud resting on his pale, immobile face. The sad brooding eyes of Martialis showed no change.