s infamous!"

With these words she turned her back on Antinous and returned to her
father's room, using her left foot, however, with caution, for it was
very painful.

The young Bithynian gazed in silence at Selene's tall, slight form, he
felt prompted to follow her, to say to her how very sorry he was for the
mischance that had befallen her, and that the hound belonged not to him
but to another man; but he dared not. Long after she had disappeared from
sight he stood on the same spot. At last he collected his senses, and
slowly went back to his room, where he sat on his couch with his eyes
fixed dreamily on the ground, till the Emperor's call roused him from his
reverie.

Selene had hardly vouchsafed Antinous a glance. She was in pain not
merely in her left foot, but also in the back of her head where she found
there was a deep cut; but her thick hair had staunched the blood that
flowed from the wound. She felt very tired, and the loss of her pretty
jug, which must also be replaced by another, vexed her far more than the
beauty of the favorite had charmed her.

She slowly and wearily entered the sitting-room, where her father was by
this time waiting for her and his water. He was accustomed to have it
regularly at the same hour, and as Selene was absent longer than usual,
he could think of no better way of filling up the time than by grumbling
and scolding to himself; when, at last, his daughter appeared on the
threshold, he at once perceived that she had no jug, and said crossly:

"And am I to have no water to-day?"

Selene shook her head, sank into a seat, and began to cry softly.

"What is the matter?" asked her father.

"The pitcher is broken," she said sadly.

"You should take better care of such expensive things," scolded her
father. "You are always complaining of want of money, and at the same
time you break half our belongings."

"I was thrown down," answered Selene, drying her eyes.

"Thrown down! by whom?" asked the steward, slowly rising.

"By the architect's big dog--the architect who came last night from Rome,
and to whom we gave that meat and salt in the middle of the night. He
slept here, at Lochias."

"And he set his clog on my child!" shouted Keraunus, with an angry glare.

"The hound was alone in the passage when I went there."

"Did it bite you?"

"No, but it pulled me down, and stood over me, and gnashed its teeth--oh!
it was horrible."

"The cursed, vagabond scoundrel!" growled