you care then for that grumpy
niggard?"

The negro did not answer for some time, then his lean breast heaved and
fell, and, as if the dam were broken through that had choked his
utterance, he burst out with a mixture of loud sobs:

"The children, the little ones, our little ones. They are so sweet; and
our little blind Helios stroked my hair because I was to go away,
here--just here he stroked it"--and he put his hand on a perfectly bald
place--"and now Sebek must go and never see them all again, just as if
they were all dead."

And the words rolled out and with difficulty, as if carried on in the
flood of his tears. They went to Mastor's heart, rousing the memory of
his own lost children and a strong desire to comfort his unhappy comrade.

"Poor fellow!" he said, compassionately. "Aye, the children! they are so
small, and the door into one's heart is so narrow--and they dance in at
it a thousand times better and more easily than grown-up folks. I, too,
have lost dear children, and they were my own, too. I can teach any one
what is meant by sorrow--but I know too now where comfort is to be
found." With these words Mastor held the tray he was carrying on his hip
with his right hand, while he put the left on the negro's shoulder and
whispered to him:

"Have you ever heard of the Christians?"

Sebek nodded eagerly as if Mastor were speaking of a matter of which he
had heard great things and expected much, and Mastor went on in a low
voice "Come early to-morrow before sunrise to the pavement-workers in the
'court, and there you will hear of One who comforts the weary and
heavy-laden."

The Emperor's servant once more took his tray in both hands and hurried
away, but a faint gleam of hope had lighted up in the old slave's eyes.
He expected no happiness, but perhaps there might be some way of bearing
the sorrows of life more easily.

Mastor as soon he had given his tray to the kitchen slaves--who were now
busy again in the palace at Lochias--returned to his lord and gave him
the steward's letter. It was an ill-chosen hour for Keraunus, for the
Emperor was in a gloomy mood. He had sat up till morning, had rested
scarcely three hours, and now, with knitted brows, was comparing the
results of his night's observation of the starry sky with certain
astronomical tables which lay spread out before him. Over this work he
frequently shook his head which was covered with crisp waves of hair;
nay--he once flung the pencil, wi