“Let it be!” said Quintus to the slaves, who had crowded round him when their first stupified astonishment was over. “I know very well where that blade was sharpened, and for the future I will be more cautious. But one thing I must say to you; my good people, each and all, be silent as to this attack. You too, my excellent friends and clients--you know how easily my noble father is alarmed. If he knew that there was in all Rome a villain, who had threatened my life, he would never know another moment’s peace.” “My lord, you know us!” exclaimed the slaves and freedmen, and the clients too professed their devotion. “His revenge is prompt!” thought Quintus, as he went onwards. “I always knew him to be an example of audacity and ruthlessness--still, such impatience as this is somewhat a surprise to me.” Then suddenly he stood still, as a new and almost impossible idea flashed across his mind.--“If it were ... supposing.... Could Domitia...?” He pressed his hands over his eyes, and that which had at first seemed so plain, intelligible and obvious, now sank back into the mists of doubt and conjecture. The slaves had by this time extinguished their torches and lanterns.--Broad daylight shone in cloudless beauty over the widely-spread city of the Seven Hills. The great temple of Isis lay flooded with gold; a procession of priests,[201] bearing the image of the goddess, came marching down the street. “Get on!” cried Quintus. “I am tired to death. It was a folly, Blepyrus, to dismiss the litters.” “It was wisdom, my lord!” said the slave. “If I still am honored with your confidence, I would again repeat....” “Ah well!” Quintus interrupted. “Very likely you are right--you leeches are always right.[202] If only you attain a proportionate result! But if exercise were everything, I should be the lightest-hearted man in Europe. Nay, my good Blepyrus, this dissatisfaction, this intolerable sense of ill lies deeper....” In a few minutes they had reached home. The ostiarius[203] was standing at the door, as if the master of the house were impatiently expected. Quintus was about to cross the threshold, when he heard himself loudly called by name. “What do I see? Euterpe! All hail to you--so soon returned to Rome?” “Yes, my lord, since yesterday,” answered the flute-player hastily. “And ever since I came, I have been incessantly trying to find you. Do you still remember,” she went on in a low voice, “what you promised me at Baiae?” “Certainly, my pretty one. Quintus Claudius sticks to his bargain ... besides.... But who is the grey-headed old man with you there? Your husband or your father?” “My husband is young, and my father is dead.--This is Thrax Barbatus, Glauce’s father.” “And who is Glauce?” “What--did I never tell you about Glauce--out there, on the hills by Baiae? I must have forgotten in the midst of all my trouble. Glauce is to be married to our Eurymachus....” “Ah! the heroic sufferer, that Stephanus had flogged?”