eta would work her fingers to the
bone until she saved enough money to purchase her daughter's freedom.

Arminius Quirinius, ever grasping for money, ever ready for any act of
cupidity or oppression, knew that from the mother he could extract a far
higher sum than the girl could possibly fetch in the open market. He had
fixed her price as fifty aurei, and Menecreta had saved just one half
that amount when fate and the vengeance of the populace overtook the
extortioner. All his slaves--save the most valuable--were thrown on the
market, and the patient, hard-working mother saw the fulfilment of her
hopes well within sight.

It was but a question of gaining Hun Rhavas' ear and of tempting his
greed. The girl, publicly offered under unfavourable conditions, and
unbacked by the auctioneer's laudatory harangues, could easily be
knocked down for twenty aurei or even less.

But Menecreta's heart was torn with anxiety the while she watched the
progress of the sale. Every one of these indifferent spectators might
become an enemy through taking a passing fancy to her child. These
young patricians, these stern matrons, they had neither remorse nor pity
where the gratification of a whim was at stake.

And was not the timid, fair-haired girl more beautiful in the mother's
eyes than any other woman put up on the platform for the purpose of
rousing a momentary caprice.

She gazed with jealous eyes on the young idlers and the high-born
ladies, the possible foes who yet might part her from the child. And
there was the praefect too, all-powerful in the matter.

If he saw through the machinations of Hun Rhavas nothing would save the
girl from being put up like all the others as the law directed, with the
proper tablet attached to her neck, describing her many charms. Taurus
Antinor was not cruel but he was pitiless. The slaves of his household
knew that, as did the criminals brought to his tribunal. He never
inflicted unnecessary punishment but when it was deserved he was
relentless in its execution.

What hope could a poor mother have against the weight of his authority.

Fortunately the morning was rapidly wearing on. The hour for the midday
rest was close at hand. Menecreta could watch, with a glad thrill in her
heart, one likely purchaser after another being borne in gorgeously
draped litter away from this scene of a mother's cruel anxiety. Already
the ladies had withdrawn. Now there was only a group of men left around
the ros