Something in the boy’s heart seemed to respond to the beauty around him; and while his friend Fulvius was excited to frenzy at the hairbreadth success which one of the chariots won, Casca was lost in his own meditations, from which he was awoke by the over-turning of one of the unsuccessful carriages, and the cry of pain, which sounded through the first shout of victory. “The charioteer was killed!” he heard a voice near him say, “and the horses will never be worth a silver coin again. So much the worse for Cassianus, who owns them.” The fallen horses and the dead charioteer were hastily removed, and then another race was proclaimed by the herald. And again there was breathless anxiety as to the result. Casca turned presently at the sound of a voice, which seemed familiar. “Do not push him roughly; he will make way!” “A cursed dog of a Jew!” was the answer, “standing, forsooth, in the way of a noble.” “Turn him out!” and then two lictors, who were stationed at the entrance of every one of the galleries, seized the old man roughly by the shoulder, and pushed him before them to the outside of the Circus. Casca forgot the race and the shouts which proclaimed another victory, forgot Fulvius, and that he had agreed to remain with him and return to supper with him, and followed the old man, who was leaning on the arm of a woman whose voice had been familiar. “Do not push him roughly,” the voice now said. It was the voice of Ebba, the slave of his mother Cæcilia. Casca followed the pair at a little distance, till he was beyond the shouts of the crowd which was thronging the entrances to the Circus. Then he laid his hand on Ebba’s arm. She started, and turned round-- “Is it possible!” she exclaimed; “but do not speak to me, dear master.” “Speak! yes, I must speak, and learn whence you came, and who has brought you hither.” “Nay, not here, not here; it is dangerous for you and me here.” “Come on, my daughter,” moaned old Ezra, “come on, nor delay, for this is no place for us. Young man, what is your business?” “I will come, father,” said Anna, “I will come. I would you had heeded me, and never come near the race.” “Ah, but I furnished the harness--the gold--for the chariot of Cassianus, and now”---- “Hush, I pray you, father,” Anna whispered. “We are watched.” Then turning to Casca, she said-- “To-morrow, at dawn, near the fountain of Egeria, that is near to the temple of Vesta, to-morrow.” And then Anna hurried on, and Casca was accosted by a man. “Do you know the woman and the old man?” Casca shook his head. “The old man is a stranger to me, but _not_ the woman,” was the rejoinder. “I would have you beware, Casca, the son of Severus: that woman is one of the Christians, though she lives with an old Jew, a dealer in precious stones and pearls, a charlatan and sorcerer. Beware!” “I know not,” said Casca, with some dignity, “why you should issue these commands against me.”