‘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?"’

‘Unfortunate Ione!’

’But it is well for her that those solemn cares to the dead which religion enjoins have hitherto greatly absorbed her attention from Glaucus and herself:  and, in the dimness of her senses, she scarcely seems aware that Glaucus is apprehended and on the eve of trial.  When the funeral rites due to Apaecides are performed, her apprehension will return; and then I fear me much that her friends will be revolted by seeing her run to succour and aid the murderer of her brother!’

‘Such scandal should be prevented.’

’I trust I have taken precautions to that effect.  I am her lawful guardian, and have just succeeded in obtaining permission to escort her, after the funeral of Apaecides, to my own house; there, please the gods! she will be secure.’

’You have done well, sage Arbaces.  And, now, yonder is the house of Sallust.  The gods keep you!  Yet, hark you, Arbaces—­why so gloomy and unsocial?  Men say you can be gay—­why not let me initiate you into the pleasures of Pompeii?—­I flatter myself no one knows them better.’

’I thank you, noble Clodius:  under your auspices I might venture, I think, to wear the philyra:  but, at my age, I should be an awkward pupil.’

’Oh, never fear; I have made converts of fellows of seventy.  The rich, too, are never old.’

’You flatter me.  At some future time I will remind you of your promise.’

‘You may command Marcus Clodius at all times—­and so, vale!’

‘Now,’ said the Egyptian, soliloquising, ’I am not wantonly a man of blood; I would willingly save this Greek, if, by confessing the crime, he will lose himself for ever to Ione, and for ever free me from the chance of discovery; and I can save him by persuading Julia to own the philtre, which will be held his excuse.  But if he do not confess the crime, why, Julia must be shamed from the confession, and he must die!—­die, lest he prove my rival with the living—­die, that he may be my proxy with the dead!  Will he confess?—­can he not be persuaded that in his delirium he struck the blow?  To me it would give far greater safety than even his death.  Hem! we must hazard the experiment.’

Sweeping along the narrow street, Arbaces now approached the house of Sallust, when he beheld a dark form wrapped in a cloak, and stretched at length across the threshold of the door.