d and Doris began to suspect who was standing before
her, and she said as she smoothed down her dress and bowed low:

"What great honor befalls us illustrious lady; perhaps you are even the
Emperor's wife? If that be the case--"

Sabina made an impatient sign to the chamberlain who interrupted the old
woman exclaiming:

"Be silent and show us the way."

Doris was not feeling particularly strong that day, and her eyes already
red with weeping about her son again filled with tears. No one had ever
spoken so to her before, and yet, for her son's sake she would not repay
sharp words in the same coin, though she had plenty at her command.

She tottered on in front of Sabina, and conducted her to the hall of the
Muses. There Pontius relieved her of the duty, and the respect he paid to
the stranger made her sure that in fact she was none other than the
Empress in person.

"An odious woman!" said Sabina, as she went on pointing to Doris, whom
her words could not escape. This was too much for the old woman; past all
self-control she flung herself on to a seat that was standing by, covered
her face with her hands and began crying bitterly. She felt as if the
very ground were snatched from under her feet.

Her son was in disgrace with Caesar, and she and her house were
threatened by the most powerful woman in the world. She pictured herself
as already turned into the streets with Euphorion and her dogs, and asked
herself what was to become of them all when they had lost their place and
the roof that covered them. Her husband's memory grew daily weaker, soon
his voice even might fail; and how greatly had her own strength failed
during the last few years, how small were the savings that were hidden in
their chest. The bright, genial old woman felt quite broken down. What
hurt her was, not merely the pressing need that threatened her, but the
disgrace too which would fall upon her, the dislike she had incurred--she
who had been liked by every one from her youth up--and the painful
feeling of having been treated with scorn and contempt in the presence of
others by the powerful lady whose favor she had hoped to win.

At Sabina's advent all good spirits had fled from Lochias, so at least
Doris felt, but she was not one of those who succumb helplessly to a
hostile force. For a few minutes she abandoned herself to her sorrows and
sobbed like a child. Now she dried her eyes, and her eased heart felt the
beneficial relief of tears;