ost of her husband with golden fillets."

"No, I do not desire to sell myself. Diomed's daughter is handsome, I
grant; and at one time, had she not been the grandchild of a freedman, I
might have--yet, no--she carries all her beauty in her face; her manners
are not maiden-like, and her mind knows no culture save that of
pleasure."

"You are ungrateful. Tell me, then, who is the fortunate virgin."

"You shall hear, my Clodius. Several months ago I was sojourning at
Naples, a city utterly to my own heart. One day I entered the temple of
Minerva to offer up my prayers, not for myself more than for the city on
which Pallas smiles no longer. The temple was empty and deserted. The
recollections of Athens crowded fast and meltingly upon me. Imagining
myself still alone, my prayer gushed from my heart to my lips, and I
wept as I prayed. I was startled in the midst of my devotions, however,
by a deep sigh. I turned suddenly, and just behind me was a female. She
had raised her veil also in prayer, and when our eyes met, methought a
celestial ray shot from those dark and smiling orbs at once into my
soul.

"Never, my Clodius, have I seen mortal face more exquisitely moulded. A
certain melancholy softened, and yet elevated, its expression. Tears
were rolling down her eyes. I guessed at once that she was of Athenian
lineage. I spoke to her, though with a faltering voice. 'Art thou not,
too, Athenian?' said I. At the sound of my voice she blushed, and half
drew her veil across her face. 'My forefathers' ashes,' she said,
'repose by the waters of Ilyssus; my birth is of Naples; but my heart,
as my lineage, is Athenian.'

"'Let us, then,' said I, 'make our offerings together!' And as the
priest now appeared, we stood side by side, and so followed the
ceremonial prayer. Together we touched the knees of the goddess;
together we laid our olive garlands on the altar. Silently we left the
temple, and I was about to ask her where she dwelt, when a youth, whose
features resembled hers, took her by the hand. She turned and bade me
farewell, the crowd parted us, and I saw her no more; nor when I
returned to Naples after a brief absence at Athens, was I able to
discover any clue to my lost country-woman. So, hoping to lose in gaiety
all remembrance of that beautiful apparition, I hastened to plunge
myself amidst the luxuries of Pompeii. This is all my history, I do not
love but I remember and regret."

So said Glaucus. But that very night