emember that all that
could be done to secure her life has been done by you. Her father,
helpless in his lethargy and his age, was fitted only to sit and watch
her, as he has sat and watched her day after day; but you have spared
nothing, forgotten nothing. Whatever I have asked for, that you have
provided; the hangings round the room, and the couch that she lies on,
are yours; the first fresh supplies of nourishment from the
newly-opened markets were brought here from you; I told you that she
was thinking incessantly of what she had suffered, that it was
necessary to preserve her against her own recollections, that the
presence of women about her might do good, that a child appearing
sometimes in the room might soothe her fancy, might make her look at
what was passing, instead of thinking of what had passed--you found
them, and sent them! I have seen parents less anxious for their
children, lovers for their mistresses, than you for this girl.'

'My destiny is with her,' interrupted Vetranio, looking round
superstitiously to the frail form on the couch. 'I know nothing of the
mysteries that the Christians call their "Faith", but I believe now in
the soul; I believe that one soul contains the fate of another, and
that her soul contains the fate of mine!'

The physician shook his head derisively. His calling had determined
his philosophy--he was as ardent a materialist as Epicurus himself.

'Listen,' said Vetranio; 'since I first saw her, a change came over my
whole being; it was as if her life was mingled with mine! I had no
influence over her, save an influence for ill: I loved her, and she
was driven defenceless from her home! I sent my slaves to search Rome
night and day; I exerted all my power, I lavished my wealth to discover
her; and, for the first time in this one effort, I failed in what I had
undertaken. I felt that through me she was lost--dead! Days passed
on; life weighed weary on me; the famine came. You know in what way I
determined that my career should close; the rumour of the Banquet of
Famine reached you as it reached others!'

'It did,' replied the physician. 'And I see before me in your face,'
he added, after a momentary pause, 'the havoc which that ill-omened
banquet has worked. My friend, be advised!--abandon for ever the
turmoil of your Roman palace, and breathe in tranquillity the air of a
country home. The strength you once had is gone never to return--if
you would yet live, hus