he
offered his strong right hand to his eldest-born and said: "We must
increase the number of our slaves. Call your mother, Polykarp." The youth
obeyed with cheerful alacrity, and when Dame Dorothea--who was sitting at
the loom with her daughter Marthana and some of her female slaves--saw
him rush into the women's room with a glowing face, she rose with
youthful briskness in spite of her stout and dignified figure, and called
out to her son:

"He has approved of your plans?"

"Bridge and all, mother, everything," cried the young man. "Finer granite
for my lions, than my father has picked out for me is nowhere to be
found, and how glad I am for Antonius! only we must have patience about
the roadway. He wants to speak to you at once."

Dorothea signed to her son to moderate his ecstasy, for he had seized her
hand, and was pulling her away with him, but the tears that stood in her
kind eyes testified how deeply she sympathized in her favorite's
excitement.

"Patience, patience, I am coming directly," cried she, drawing away her
hand in order to arrange her dress and her grey hair, which was abundant
and carefully dressed, and formed a meet setting for her still pleasing
and unwrinkled face.

"I knew it would be so; when you have a reasonable thing to propose to
your father, he will always listen to you and agree with you without my
intervention; women should not mix themselves up with men's work. Youth
draws a strong bow and often shoots beyond the mark. It would be a pretty
thing if out of foolish affection for you I were to try to play the siren
that should ensnare the steersman of the house--your father--with
flattering words. You laugh at the grey-haired siren? But love overlooks
the ravages of years and has a good memory for all that was once
pleasing. Besides, men have not always wax in their ears when they should
have. Come now to your father."

Dorothea went out past Polykarp and her daughter. The former held his
sister back by the hand and asked--"Was not Sirona with you?"

The sculptor tried to appear quite indifferent, but he blushed as he
spoke; Marthana observed this and replied not without a roguish glance:
"She did show us her pretty face; but important business called her
away."

"Sirona?" asked Polykarp incredulously.

"Certainly, why not!" answered Marthana laughing. "She had to sew a new
gown for the children's doll."

"Why do you mock at her kindness?" said Polykarp reproachfully.

"How s