cular pillared hall on the shady side of a large open space,
under which the better sort of gardeners and flower dealers of the city
exposed their gay and fragrant wares to be sold by pretty girls. To-day
every stall had been particularly well supplied, but the demand for
wreaths and flowers had steadily increased from an early hour, and
although Verus had all that he could find of fresh flowers arranged and
tied together, still the nosegay, though much larger, was not half so
beautiful as that intended for Selene, and for which he substituted it.

Now this annoyed the Roman. His sense of justice prompted him to make
good the loss he had inflicted on the sick girl. Gay ribbons were wound
round the stalks of the flowers, and the long ends floated in the air, so
Verus took a brooch from his dress and stuck it into the bow which
ornamented the stem of the nosegay; then he was satisfied, and as he
looked at the stone set in a gold border--an onyx on which was engraved
Eros sharpening his arrows--he pictured to himself the pleasure, the
delight of the girl that the handsome Bithynian loved, as she received
the beautiful gift.

His slaves, natives of Britain, who were dressed as garden-gods, were
charged with the commission to proceed to dame Hannah's under the
guidance of the donkey-driver to deliver the nosegay to Selene from 'the
friend at Lochias,' and then to wait for him outside the house of
Titianus, the prefect; for thither, as he had ascertained from his
swift-footed messenger, had Keraunus and his daughter been carried.

Verus needed a longer time than the boy, to make his way through the
crowd. At the door of the prefect's residence he laid aside his mask, and
in an anteroom where the steward was sitting on a couch waiting for his
daughter, he arranged his hair and the folds of his toga, and was then
conducted to the lady Julia with whom he hoped, once more, to see the
charming Arsinoe.

But in the reception-room, instead of Arsinoe he found his own wife and
the poetess Balbilla and her companion. He greeted the ladies gaily,
amiably and gracefully, as usual, and then, as he looked enquiringly
round the large room without concealing his disappointment, Balbilla came
up to him and asked him in a low voice:

"Can you be honest, Verus?"

"When circumstances allow it, yes."

"And will they allow it here?"

"I should suppose so."

"Then answer me truly. Did you come here for Julia's sake, or did you
come--"