poles, beside which marched two slaves.

Therefore the young man's surprise was so much the greater when he saw a man's ugly, pock-marked face thrust out between the curtains, and instantly recognised Ævius, the base parasite, who was ready for half a sestertia to compose a panegyric upon the last gladiator, and had prepared for Carinus Cæsar's greyhound a genealogy, according to which, on the mother's side, it had descended directly from the she-wolf that suckled the twin brothers Romulus and Remus.

Manlius could not repress a smile at the singular situation of the panegyrist.

"Oho, Ævius, how long has the Cæsar had you carried about in a lectica like an aristocratic courtesan?"

"Be merciful, Manlius, and do not jeer at me. I am the most miserable writer of verse since Pegasus became the steed of poets. Just think what a favorable opportunity presented itself to secure immortality. Yesterday afternoon I learned that by the Cæsar's command a band of idol-worshipping Christians would be surprised at their meeting place on the Tiber; and I instantly hired a horse—a horse that exactly suited me, for I could not miss the chance of perpetuating so rare a spectacle by the power of my lyre for the benefit of posterity. There would be so many things priceless to us poets, such as killing, crucifixion, boiling in pitch, and similar matters. And now how have I fared! On the way the gods of Egypt threw me into the company of an accursedly charming woman who was being borne along in this superb traveling litter. First, this woman lured my secret from me, then she lured me off my horse to sit by her side in the vehiculum; and with Junonian perfidy to a heaven-aspiring Ixion, she sprang out on the other side, swung herself upon my horse, which she sat with the ease of an Amazon queen, and laughing merrily gave me the advice, if I was a poet, to use Pegasus, then dashed along the road I had pointed out, leaving me in this time-killing apparatus, which is more tiresome than the hour-glass. She probably reached the scene of the spectacle in season, while I, with these two mules and two asses, lost my way so completely that I am obliged to return to Rome."

Manlius held his breath as he listened to the parasite's words.

"Who was this woman?" he asked in a hollow tone.

"Don't you know her lectica, Manlius? Ah, you are still a novice in Rome if you do not, and doubtless come from very distant lands where such things are not mentioned, gelidis Scythiæ ab oris. This is the vehiculum of the unaccountable and indescribable Glyceria, and the woman who outwitted me was no other than the Circe who has turned goddess, is worshipped by every one, including myself and Carinus, and who thus maltreats every one and changes her adorers, including myself and Carinus, into calves and oxen."

Manlius did not hear the poet's last words. When the name "Glyceria" reached him, he struck his heels into his horse's flanks, and as though he felt the scourge of the Furies upon him, dashed wildly into the courtyard of the Villa Mesembrius.

The old man, without noticing the expression of rage, terror, and despair that darkened the knight's face, met him with a smile.

"Is your daughter at home?" asked Manlius, trembling in every limb, and as the old man did not answer at once, he repeated anxiously: "Where is your daughter, Mesembrius?"

The aged Senator drew the youth, who was impatiently awaiting his reply, aside, and whispered:

"I will tell you the secret, but act as though you did not know it. She is in the habit of attending the meetings of the Christians. She has gone to one now, and has not yet returned."

Manlius, trembling, raised both clenched hands heavenward, and shrieked:

"Cursed be the heaven which permitted this to happen!"

Mesembrius drew back in astonishment, asking in a tone of bewilderment: "What is the matter?"

Manlius despairingly grasped the old man's hand.

"You have been robbed of your daughter."

Mesembrius' face blanched, and sinking back into his chair he faltered with fixed eyes, "Glyceria!"

"Yes, you are right; she has robbed you of her. And I, blind fool, met them, and these eyes did not recognize her in the darkness; this pitiable heart did not feel that, five steps off, she was being borne away from me. If it could happen that the sister dragged the sister to death before the lover's eyes, what means your sovereignty, Jupiter, Ormuzd, Zeus, Zebaoth, and the rest of ye chosen kings of destiny? Fiends rule the earth, and fate is an evil omen! But I, too, will be no better. Old man, gather all your curses, begin to pour them forth at dawn, and do not cease till nightfall. Meanwhile I will act. May Dira aid me."

The old man, as though stricken by palsy, repeated: "My daughter; oh, my daughter—"

Manlius compressed his lips; a bloody mist flickered before his eyes.

"Your daughter? I will avenge one and kill the other! May Ate be with us both.[2]"