Thou shouldst
have spoken to him."

"Oh I should never dare," she replied, her voice trembling at the mere
suggestion of such boldness, "but I did promise thee five aurei if I
succeeded in purchasing the child."

"I know that," quoth the African with a nod of satisfaction.

"My own child, Hun Rhavas," continued the pleading voice; "think on it,
for thou too hast children of thine own."

"I purchased my son's freedom only last year," acquiesced the slave with
a touch of pride. "Next year, an the gods will, it shall be my
daughter's and after that mine own. In three years from now we shall all
be free."

"Thou art a man; 'tis more easy for thee to make money. It took me six
years to save up twenty-five aurei which should purchase my child:
twenty for her price, five for thy reward, for thou alone canst help me,
an thou wilt."

"Well, I've done all I could for thee, Menecreta," retorted Hun Rhavas
somewhat impatiently. "I've taken the titulus from off her neck and set
the hat over her head, and that was difficult enough for the praefect's
eyes are very sharp. Ten aurei should be the highest bid for a maid
without guarantees as to skill, health or condition. And as she is not
over well-favoured----"

But this the mother would not admit. In weary and querulous tones she
began expatiating on the merits of her daughter: her fair hair, her
graceful neck--until the African, bored and impatient, turned on her
roughly.

"Nay! an thy daughter hath so many perfections, thou'lt not purchase her
for twenty aurei. Fifty and sixty will be bid for her, and what can I do
then to help thee?"

"Hun Rhavas," said Menecreta in a sudden spirit of conciliation, "thou
must not heed a mother's fancies. To me the child is beautiful beyond
compare. Are not thine own in thy sight beautiful as a midsummer's
day?" she added with subtle hypocrisy, thinking of the ugly little
Africans of whom Hun Rhavas was so proud.

Her motherly heart was prepared for every sacrifice, every humiliation,
so long as she obtained what she wanted--possession of her child.
Arminius Quirinius had given her her freedom some three years ago, but
this seeming act of grace had been a cruel one since it had parted the
mother from her child. The late censor had deemed Menecreta old, feeble,
and therefore useless: she was but a worthless mouth to feed; but he
kept the girl not because she was well-favoured or very useful in his
house, but because he knew that Menecr