ed a
young man with a garland on his head, who, as he passed her, arm in arm
with another, called out to her gaily: "Long live beauty!"

From that moment she kept her eyes fixed on her lap and on the roses
dame Doris had given her. The flowers reminded her of the kind old
woman's son, and she wondered whether tall Pollux had perhaps seen her
in her finery. That, she would have liked very much; and after all, it
was not at all impossible, for, of course, since Pollux had been working
at Lochias he must often have gone to his parents. Perhaps even he had
himself picked the roses for her, but had not dared to give them to her
as her father was so near.

CHAPTER XVII.

But the young sculptor had not been at the gatehouse when Arsinoe went
by. He had thought of her often enough since meeting her again by
the bust of her mother; but on this particular afternoon his time and
thoughts were fully claimed by another fair damsel. Balbilla had arrived
at Lochias about noon, accompanied, as was fitting, by the worthy
Claudia, the not wealthy widow of a senator, who for many years had
filled the place of lady-in-attendance and protecting companion to the
rich fatherless and motherless girl. At Rome, she conducted Balbilla's
household affairs with as much sense and skill as satisfaction in the
task. Still she was not perfectly content with her lot, for her ward's
love of travelling, often compelled her to leave the metropolis, and in
her estimation, there was no place but Rome where life was worth living.
A visit to Baiae for bathing, or in the winter months a flight to the
Ligurian coast, to escape the cold of January and February--these she
could endure; for she was certain there to find, if not Rome, at any
rate Romans; but Balbilla's wish to venture in a tossing ship, to visit
the torrid shores of Africa, which she pictured to herself as a burning
oven, she had opposed to the utmost. At last, however, she was obliged
to put a good face on the matter, for the Empress herself expressed
so decidedly her wish to take Balbilla with her to the Nile, that any
resistance would have been unduteous. Still; in her secret heart, she
could not but confess to herself that her high-spirited and wilful
foster-child--for so she loved to call Balbilla--would undoubtedly have
carried out her purpose without the Empress' intervention.

Balbilla had come to the palace, as the reader knows, to sit for her
bust.

When Selene was passing by t