you are not a common slave, Malchus, you are a Carthaginian noble
and the cousin of Hannibal. You are her equal in all respects."

"Save for this gold collar," Malchus said, touching the badge of slavery
lightly.

"Are you sure you do not love her in return, Malchus? She is very
beautiful."

"Is she?" Malchus said carelessly. "Were she fifty times more beautiful
it would make no difference to me, for, as you know as well as I do, I
love some one else."

Clotilde flushed to the brow. "You have never said so," she said softly.

"What occasion to say so when you know it? You have always known it,
ever since the day when we went over the bridge together."

"But I am no fit mate for you," she said. "Even when my father was
alive and the tribe unbroken, what were we that I should wed a great
Carthaginian noble? Now the tribe is broken, I am only a Roman slave."

"Have you anything else to observe?" Malchus said quietly.

"Yes, a great deal more," she went on urgently. "How could you present
your wife, an ignorant Gaulish girl, to your relatives, the haughty
dames of Carthage? They would look down upon me and despise me."

"Clotilde, you are betraying yourself," Malchus said smiling, "for you
have evidently thought the matter over in every light. No," he said,
detaining her, as, with an exclamation of shame, she would have fled
away, "you must not go. You knew that I loved you, and for every time
you have thought of me, be it ever so often, I have thought of you a
score. You knew that I loved you and intended to ask your hand from your
father. As for the dames of Carthage, I think not of carrying you there;
but if you will wed me I will settle down for life among your people."

A footstep was heard approaching. Malchus pressed Clotilde for a moment
against his breast, and then he was alone. The newcomer was Sempronius.
He was still a frequent visitor, but he was conscious that he had lately
lost rather than gained ground in the good graces of Julia. Averse as
he had been from the first to the introduction of Malchus into the
household, he was not long in discovering the reason for the change
in Julia, and the dislike he had from the first felt of Malchus had
deepened to a feeling of bitter hatred.

"Slave," he said haughtily, "tell your mistress that l am here."

"I am not your slave," Malchus said calmly, "and shall not obey your
orders when addressed in such a tone."

"Insolent hound," the young Roman exclaimed