Caesar. I
can tell you that circumstances have occurred which will determine
Hadrian to punish any insolent person who may choose to neglect the
respect due to me and to my daughters."

When Keraunus had closed this letter with his seal he called the slave
and said coldly:

"Take this to the Roman architect, and then fetch two litters; make
haste, and while we are out take good care of the children. To-morrow or
next day you will be sold. To whom? That must depend on how you behave
during the last hours that you belong to us." The negro gave a loud cry
of grief that came from the depth of his heart, and flung himself on the
ground at the steward's feet. His cry did indeed pierce his master's
soul--but Keraunus had made up his mind not to let himself be moved nor
to yield. But the negro clung more closely to his knees, and when the
children, attracted to the spot by their poor old friend's lamentation,
cried loudly in unison, and little Helios began to pat and stroke the
little remains of the negro's woolly hair, the vain man felt uneasy about
the heart, and to protect himself against his own weakness he cried out
loudly and violently:

"Now, away with you, and do as you are ordered or I will find the whip."

With these words he tore himself loose from the miserable--old man who
left the room with his head hanging down, and who soon was standing at
the door of the Emperor's rooms with the letter in his hand. Hadrian's
appearance and manner had filled him with terror and respect, and he
dared not knock at the door. After he had waited for some time, still
with tears in his eyes, Mastor came into the passage with the remains of
his master's breakfast. The negro called to him and held out the
steward's letter, stammering out lamentably:

"From Keraunus, for you master."

"Lay it here on the tray," said the Sarmatian. "But what has happened to
you, my old friend? you are wailing most pitifully and look miserable.
Have you been beaten?"

The negro shook his head and answered, whimpering: "Keraunus is going to
sell me."

"There are better masters than he."

"But Sebek is old, Sebek is weak--he can no longer lift and pull, and
with hard work he will certainly die."

"Has life been so easy and comfortable then at the steward's?"

"Very little wine, very little meat, very much hunger," said the old man.

"Then you must be glad to leave him."

"No, no," groaned Sebek.

"You foolish old owl," said Mastor. "Why do