“She is my mother—­and the first time the butcher kills she will concoct for you and me a dish of sausages and cabbage without an equal.”

“A very pleasing prospect.”

“Here comes a hippopotamus—­on closer inspection Keraunus, the steward.”

“Are you his enemy?”

“I, no; but he is mine—­yes,” replied Pollux.  “It is a foolish story.  When we sup together don’t ask me about it if you care to have a jolly companion And do not tell Keraunus that I am here, it will lead to no good.”

“As you wish, and here are our lamps too.”

“Enough to light the nether world,” exclaimed Pollux, and waving his hand to the architect in farewell he vanished behind the screens to devote himself entirely to his model.

It was long past midnight, and the slaves who had set to work with much zeal had finished their labors in the hall of the Muses.  They were now allowed to rest for some hours on straw that had been spread for them in another wing of the building.  The architect himself wished to take advantage of this time to refresh himself by a short sleep, for the exertions of the morrow, but between this intention and its fulfilment an obstacle was interposed, the preposterous dimensions namely of his guest.  He had invited the steward on purpose to give him his fill of meat, and Keraunus had shown himself amenable to encouragement in this respect.  But after the last dish bad been removed the steward thought that good manners demanded that he should honor his entertainer by his illustrious presence, and at the same time the prefect’s good wine loosened the tongue of the man, who was not usually communicative.

First he spoke of the manifold infirmities which tormented him and endangered his life, and when Pontius, to divert his talk into other channels, was so imprudent as to allude to the Council of Citizens, Keraunus gave full play to his eloquence, and, while he emptied cup after cup of wine, tried to lay down the reasons which had made him and his friends decide on staking everything in order to deprive the members of the extensive community of Jews in the city of their rights as citizens, and to expel them, if possible, from Alexandria.  So warm was his zeal that he totally forgot the presence of the architect, and his humble origin, and declared to be indispensable, that even the descendants of freed-slaves should be disenfranchised.

Pontius saw in the steward’s inflamed eyes and cheeks that it was the wine which spoke within him, and he made no answer; and determined that the rest he needed should not be thus abridged, he rose from table and briefly excusing himself he retired to the room in which the couch had been prepared for him.  After he had undressed he desired his slave to see what Keraunus was about, and soon received the reassuring information that the steward was fast asleep and snoring.

“Only listen,” said the slave, to confirm his report.  “You can hear him grunting and snuffing as far as this.  I pushed a cushion under his head, for otherwise, so full as he is, the stout gentleman might come to some harm.”