e, with a close-curling, white beard, and clad
in a robe so heavily embroidered with gold as to leave the ground
colour a matter of conjecture. With keen eyes that shifted nervously,
he hurried down toward the rheda. Then, noting Mago, and that he was a
Carthaginian of rank, he paused, uncertain, and his salutation savoured
somewhat of over-respect.

"A lady?" he said hesitatingly;--"a lady who desires to see me?"

Marcia parted the curtains and leaned out, smiling. The newcomer
stopped short and gasped in astonishment.

Mago glanced sharply from one to the other, and his lip curled. He
signed to his attendants, and, with an obeisance that had in it
haughtiness rather than courtesy, he rode away.

Glancing cautiously up and down the street, Calavius approached the
rheda.

"And is it the lady Marcia who is to honour my house?" he began, in
words that carried more welcome than did the tone. "A dangerous
journey, in these days, and a dangerous destination. Surely you are
welcome--and who was the young man that rode with you? Did he know
anything of your name and birth? I trust you were cautious?--"

Marcia laughed.

"Do not fear, father;" Calavius frowned slightly at the venerable
title, and shook out his robe that the odours might permeate the air.
"Do not fear but that I was as cunning as your Campanians. I told him
I was a Roman--wherefore not? For the matter of that, he divined it.
He is Mago, the brother of Hannibal--"

"And he brought you here?" cried Calavius, trembling now in good
earnest. "Surely it was done to ruin me; but whose plot?--whose plot?"

"It is not necessary I should be your guest," said Marcia, with
well-feigned indifference. "Doubtless there are inns; but he guided me
here because I asked for your house, imagining that my father's friend
would have a welcome for my father's daughter."

Calavius instantly recovered his composure.

"Ah! dear lady," he began, in a voice from which all the tremor had
vanished, "and do you dream for a moment that you should taste of other
hospitality than mine? Will you not descend--nay, I will help you--and
let us enter quickly. These are indeed troublous days, and every door
creaks a warning; troublous days, with each man's hand against his
neighbour, plotting by necessity, often, rather than by preference.
What! your attendants are hurt?" Again his voice shook. "A brawl?
that is bad; but come within. It is there you shall tell me of it al