dst act like this?"

But obviously the small stock of patience possessed by the praefect was
now exhausted, for he pushed the woman roughly away from him.

"A truce on thy ravings now, woman. The midday hour is almost on us. I
have no further time to waste on thine affairs. Put the girl up on the
catasta," he added, speaking in his usual harsh, curt way, "and take
this woman's arms from round my shins."

And it was characteristic of him that this time he did not interfere
with his lictors when they handled the woman with their accustomed
roughness.

CHAPTER V

"Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after
many days."--ECCLESIASTES XI. 1.

The fair-skinned Cheiron up on the rostrum now took over the duties of
the disgraced Hun Rhavas.

The interlude had caused the crowd to linger on despite the approach of
noonday, an hour always devoted, almost sacred, to rest. But now that
decorum was once more restored and the work of the sale could be
proceeded with in the methodical manner approved by the praefect,
interest began to flag.

The crowd seemed inclined to wait just a brief while longer in order to
see Nola put up on the catasta and to hear the bid of twenty aurei made
for her by her mother--a bid which, at the praefect's commands, was to
be final and undisputed. Just to see the hammer come clashing down as an
epilogue to the palpitating drama was perhaps worth waiting for. The
human goods still left for sale after that would have to be held over
for a more favourable opportunity.

The praefect was preparing to leave.

Up on the platform Nola, the daughter of Menecreta, smiled at the world
through a few lingering tears. She was very happy now that her golden
hair was allowed to stream down her shoulders, and that it was only
because the praefect had so ordered it that the low price of twenty
aurei would be accepted for her.

"Nola, daughter of Menecreta," shouted Cheiron, the new auctioneer,
"aged sixteen years, skilled in the art of healing, and the knowledge of
unguents and herbs. Her health is good, her teeth perfect, and her eyes
keen for threading the finest needle. Shall we say fifteen aurei for the
girl?"

He recited his peroration quickly and perfunctorily, like one repeating
a lesson, learned from the praefect.

"I'll give twenty," rang out Menecreta's voice, clearly and loudly. She,
too, had learned her lesson, and learned it well, whilst gratitude and
an infinity of jo