ts and flowing locks.

'If,' thought he, 'Glaucus feed the lion, Julia will no longer have a
person to love better than me; she will certainly doat on me--and so, I
suppose, I must marry. By the gods! the twelve lines begin to fail--men
look suspiciously at my hand when it rattles the dice. That infernal
Sallust insinuates cheating; and if it be discovered that the ivory is
clogged, why farewell to the merry supper and the perfumed
billet--Clodius is undone! Better marry, then, while I may, renounce
gaming, and push my fortune (or rather the gentle Julia's) at the
imperial court.'

Thus muttering the schemes of his ambition, if by that high name the
projects of Clodius may be called, the gamester found himself suddenly
accosted; he turned and beheld the dark brow of Arbaces.

'Hail, noble Clodius! pardon my interruption; and inform me, I pray you,
which is the house of Sallust?'

'It is but a few yards hence, wise Arbaces. But does Sallust entertain
to-night?'

'I know not,' answered the Egyptian; 'nor am I, perhaps, one of those
whom he would seek as a boon companion. But thou knowest that his house
holds the person of Glaucus, the murderer.'

'Ay! he, good-hearted epicure, believes in the Greek's innocence! You
remind me that he has become his surety; and, therefore, till the trial,
is responsible for his appearance.' Well, Sallust's house is better than
a prison, especially that wretched hole in the forum. But for what can
you seek Glaucus?'

'Why, noble Clodius, if we could save him from execution it would be
well. The condemnation of the rich is a blow upon society itself. I
should like to confer with him--for I hear he has recovered his
senses--and ascertain the motives of his crime; they may be so
extenuating as to plead in his defence.'

'You are benevolent, Arbaces.'

'Benevolence is the duty of one who aspires to wisdom,' replied the
Egyptian, modestly. 'Which way lies Sallust's mansion?'

'I will show you,' said Clodius, 'if you will suffer me to accompany you
a few steps. But, pray what has become of the poor girl who was to have
wed the Athenian--the sister of the murdered priest?'

'Alas! well-nigh insane! Sometimes she utters imprecations on the
murderer--then suddenly stops short--then cries, "But why curse? Oh, my
brother! Glaucus was not thy murderer--never will I believe it!" Then
she begins again, and again stops short, and mutters awfully to herself,
"Yet if it were indeed he?