was perhaps as well for his peace
of mind that he could not see the face of Saturius, as the chamberlain
comforted his bruised shoulders with some serviceable ointment, or hear
the oath which that useful and industrious officer uttered as he sought
his rest, face downwards, since for many days thereafter he was unable
to lie upon his back. It was a very ugly oath, sworn by every god who
had an altar in Rome, with the divinities of the Jews and the Christians
thrown in, that in a day to come he would avenge Domitian's rods with
daggers. Had the prince been able to do so, there might have risen in
his mind some prescience of a certain scene, in which he must play a
part on a far-off but destined night. He might have beheld a vision of
himself, bald, corpulent and thin-legged, but wearing the imperial robes
of Caesar, rolling in a frantic struggle for life upon the floor of his
bed-chamber, at death grips with one Stephanus, while an old chamberlain
named Saturius drove a dagger again and again into his back, crying at
each stroke:

"Oho! That for thy rods, Caesar! Oho! Dost remember the Pearl-Maiden?
That for thy rods, Caesar, and that--and that--and _that_----!"

But Domitian, weeping himself to sleep over the tale of the wrongs of
the god-like Achilles, which did but foreshadow those of his divine
self, as yet thought nothing of the rich reward that time should bring
him.

On the morrow of the great day of the Triumph the merchant Demetrius
of Alexandria, whom for many years we have known as Caleb, sat in the
office of the store-house which he had hired for the bestowal of his
goods in one of the busiest thoroughfares of Rome. Handsome, indeed,
noble-looking as he was, and must always be, his countenance presented
a sorry sight. From hour to hour during the previous day he had fought a
path through the dense crowds that lined the streets of Rome, to keep as
near as might be to Miriam while she trudged her long route of splendid
shame.

Then came the evening, when, with the other women slaves, she was put
up to auction in the Forum. To prepare for this sale Caleb had turned
almost all his merchandise into money, for he knew that Domitian was a
purchaser, and guessed that the price of the beautiful Pearl-Maiden, of
whom all the city was talking, would rule high. The climax we know. He
bid to the last coin that he possessed or could raise, only to find that
others with still greater resources were in the market. Ev