Two attendants or slaves were waiting for him, and prepared to conduct him to the bath, which, with its rich mosaic pavement, was a necessary appendage to every Roman villa. The visit to the public baths came later in the day, for these baths were the resorts of fashion and pleasure. The two slaves helped Casca to lay aside his dress, and as the toga slipped off the manuscript roll fell out. The elder slave picked it up, and a curious expression flitted over his face, but he was silent. Indeed, unless permitted to speak, these household slaves were generally silent in the presence of their superiors. All Casca’s possessions of books and rolls and pens and parchments were placed in a large coffer, and the slave, lifting the lid, dropped the manuscript into it. Then the work of the morning proceeded. Casca was conducted to the bath, and when he had bathed his limbs in the clear water, he was rubbed with some sweet-scented ointment, and then sprinkled with perfume. After this a long linen robe was thrown over him, and he was led back to his room, where two more slaves awaited him, with richly-chased cups and flagons, and some delicate dishes for the morning meal. When he had eaten, the chamber was darkened by the drawing of violet-coloured curtains over the doors, and then he was left to dream away the early part of the day, till the time came for resorting to the public baths or the Coliseum, where there was frequently a hand-to-hand gladiatorial fight, and wrestling with beasts. Antonius troubled himself very little about his new inmate; he had received him in accordance with the wishes of Severus, and he was to take him to the palace at a convenient season, where he was to hold some office about the Emperor’s person, when duly qualified. In this life, marked out for him by his father, Casca would have been miserable, had it not been for his studies and for the interest which his visits to the Cæmeteria awakened in him. Little by little the boy withdrew himself from the scenes of license and indulgence which formed the atmosphere of the villa. He was, like one who had gone before him, almost persuaded to be a Christian, and yet he held back. He was afraid to profess what he did not really feel, and when he heard of many who recanted at the last moment to avoid the torture or the fire, he would argue with himself that it was better to be assured of his own faith before he openly professed what in the hour of trial he might be tempted to recant. He was not sure of his own heart. Sometimes he was lost in a maze of doubt and uncertainty; at others he resigned himself to the calm philosophy of the schools, which looked down from a high vantage-ground on the old and young faith alike, and taught that the life of man on earth, fleeting though it was, was all. No beyond, and therefore, no anxiety as to the future--no cold shadow of dark fear. “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die,” was the watchword of thousands in Rome in those days.