answered the Egyptian, laughing gently. 'Well,
then, forbear; and when all is over, I will make thee rich.'

'Pardon me,' said the priest, as the quick suggestion of that avarice,
which was his master-passion, bade him trust no future chance of
generosity; 'pardon me; thou saidst right--we know each other. If thou
wouldst have me silent, thou must pay something in advance, as an offer
to Harpocrates.' If the rose, sweet emblem of discretion, is to take
root firmly, water her this night with a stream of gold.'

'Witty and poetical!' answered Arbaces, still in that bland voice which
lulled and encouraged, when it ought to have alarmed and checked, his
griping comrade. 'Wilt thou not wait the morrow?'

'Why this delay? Perhaps, when I can no longer give my testimony
without shame for not having given it ere the innocent man suffered,
thou wilt forget my claim; and, indeed, thy present hesitation is a bad
omen of thy future gratitude.'

'Well, then, Calenus, what wouldst thou have me pay thee?'

'Thy life is, very precious, and thy wealth is very great,' returned the
priest, grinning.

'Wittier and more witty. But speak out--what shall be the sum?'

'Arbaces, I have heard that in thy secret treasury below, beneath those
rude Oscan arches which prop thy stately halls, thou hast piles of gold,
of vases, and of jewels, which might rival the receptacles of the wealth
of the deified Nero. Thou mayst easily spare out of those piles enough
to make Calenus among the richest priests of Pompeii, and yet not miss
the loss.'

'Come, Calenus,' said Arbaces, winningly, and with a frank and generous
air, 'thou art an old friend, and hast been a faithful servant. Thou
canst have no wish to take away my life, nor I a desire to stint thy
reward: thou shalt descend with me to that treasury thou referrest to,
thou shalt feast thine eyes with the blaze of uncounted gold and the
sparkle of priceless gems; and thou shalt for thy own reward, bear away
with thee this night as much as thou canst conceal beneath thy robes.
Nay, when thou hast once seen what thy friend possesses, thou wilt learn
how foolish it would be to injure one who has so much to bestow. When
Glaucus is no more, thou shalt pay the treasury another visit. Speak I
frankly and as a friend?'

'Oh, greatest, best of men!' cried Calenus, almost weeping with joy,
'canst thou thus forgive my injurious doubts of thy justice, thy
generosity?'

'Hush! one other turn and