“Well, be it so,” was Antonius’s reply, in a lazy tone. “Meet me in the Coliseum to-morrow, when there will be some sport with thy father’s enemies, the Christians. By Jove!” Antonius said, “I care not whether they live or die, though we should miss some sport if there were no more to be thrown to the beasts. Vale! Vale!” he exclaimed, waving his hand, and leaving Casca free to depart. CHAPTER IX. DAYSPRING. Clœlia received the news of Casca’s immediate departure with that self-repression which at the time of greatest trial characterised the old Roman matron. The inevitable was accepted, and she merely said-- “It was but likely that your noble father should desire to place you amongst the nobles, but you depart to scenes of license, I fear, and to see the hunt after pleasure put before honour and the welfare of Rome. It was not always thus. There were times when the sons of our great city strove after all those gifts which should make them her worthy protectors and defenders. They call Rome now the mistress of the world, but her children have grown weak since the arms of their great mother have embraced so many strangers and aliens. I would, my son Casca, that you were to be committed to one even of less exalted rank than Antonius, who, if report speaks truly, lives the life of luxury and ease which is as a canker-worm at the root of the gourd.” Casca’s tender, gentle spirit was touched at the emotion which Clœlia could not entirely hide under her quiet calm manner. “I would that I could stay with you, dear Clœlia,” said the boy. “I am not fitted for the life to which I go.” “There is no choice for us; a son must obey his father; and it may be that in some time of need the mother of Caius may stand you in good stead, as once the son did, when he rescued you and your sister from the pursuing sea-robbers and brought you safe into port. If the time ever comes when you need Clœlia, she will not fail you.” Clœlia embraced Casca affectionately as she spoke, and then she bestirred herself to prepare the evening meal, which they were to eat together for the last time. Casca thought it wisest to keep the appointment with Ebba to himself. He intended to leave the house long before dawn, and to return to make final arrangements for his departure later in the day. The strange announcement in his father’s letter of the death of both Agatha and Ebba seemed a mystery he could not unravel. He knew nothing of Agatha, nor could he believe that it was Ebba who was with her in a cell at Radburn, and that both women should be found dead when the prison door was opened. Certain it was, however, that he had seen Ebba at the Circus--he felt sure he could not be mistaken. She knew him, and addressed him as “Master,” and he wanted no further proof. How she came to Rome, and why she was with the old Jew, he could not understand, and he was anxious for the meeting at the fountain of Egeria, below the Cælian Hill.