"To proceed then. Shall I and my following hang on to your skirts and stay with you till nightfall, when you and your steed must return home? You decline--with thanks! and very wisely, for the execution of this project would be equally unpleasant to you and to me, and would probably get you punished. Whisper to me then, softly, in my ear, where your master is lodging, and from whom and to whom you are carrying those flowers; as soon as you have agreed to that proposal I will let you go on alone, and will show you that I care no more for my gold pieces here, in Alexandria, than I do in Italy." "Not gold--certainly I will not take gold!" cried Mastor. "You are an honest fellow," replied Verus in an altered tone, "and you know of me that I treat my servants well and would rather be kind to folks than hard upon them. So satisfy my curiosity without any fear, and I will promise you in return, that not a soul, your master least of all, shall ever know from me what you tell me." Mastor hesitated a little, but as he could not but own to himself that he would be obliged at last to yield to the stronger will of this imperious man, and as moreover he knew that the haughty and extravagant praetor was in fact one of the kindest of masters, he sighed deeply and whispered: "You will not be the ruin of a poor wretch like me, that I know, so I will tell you, we are living at Lochias." "There," exclaimed Verus clapping his hands. "And now as to the flowers?" "Mere trifling." "Is Hadrian then in a merry mood?" "Till to-day he was very gay--but since last night--" "Well?" "You know yourself what he is when he has seen lead signs in the sky." "Bad signs," said Verus gravely. "And yet he sends flowers?" "Not he, can you not guess?" "Antinous?" Mastor nodded assent. "Only think," laughed Verus. "Then he too is beginning to think it better worth while to admire than to be admired. And who is the fair one who has succeeded in waking up his slumbering heart?" "Nay--I promised him not to chatter." "And I promise you the same. My powers of reserve are far greater than my curiosity even." "Be content, I beseech you with what you already know." "But to know half is less endurable than to know nothing." "Nay--I cannot tell you." "Then am I to begin with fresh suggestions, and all over again?" "Oh! my lord. I beg you, entreat you--" "Out with the word, and I go on my way, but if you persist in refusing--" "Really and truly it only concerns a white-faced girl whom you would not even look at." "A girl-indeed!" "Our big dog threw the poor thing down." "In the street?" "No, at Lochias. Her father is Keraunus the palace-steward." "And her name is Arsinoe?" asked Verus with undisguised concern, for he had a pleasant recollection of the beautiful child who had been selected to fill the part of Roxana. "No, her name is Selene, Arsinoe indeed is her younger sister." "Then you bring these flowers from Lochias?"