Now, however, there was more real cause for alarm a trumpet-blast was
heard, and a maniple of the twenty-second legion marched down in close
order on the crowd who fled before them. Medius was one of the first to
make off; Dada kept close to his side, and when, in his alarm, he fairly
took to his heels, she did the same; for, in spite of the reception she
apprehended, she felt that the sooner she could rejoin her own people the
better. Never till now had she known how dear they were to her. Herse
might scold; but her sharpest words were truer and better than the smooth
flattery of Medius. It was a joy to think of seeing them again--Agne,
too, and little Papias--and she felt as though she were about to meet
them after years of separation.

By this time they were at the ship-yard, which was divided only by a lane
from the Temple-grove; there lay the barge. Dada pulled off her veil and
waved it in the air, but the signal met with no response. They were at
the house, no doubt, for some men were in the very act of drawing up the
wooden gangway which connected the vessel with the land. Medius hurried
forward and was so fortunate as to overtake the steward, who had been
superintending the operation, before he reached the garden-gate.

The old man was rejoiced to see them, and told them at once that his old
mistress had promised Herse to give Dada shelter if she should return to
them. But Dada was proud. She had no liking for Gorgo or her grandmother;
and when she had caught up to Medius, quite out of breath, she positively
refused the old lady's hospitality.

The barge was deserted. Karnis--so the steward informed her--had
withdrawn to the temple of Serapis with his son, intending to assist in
its defence; and Herse had accompanied them, for Olympius had said that
women would be found useful in the beleaguered sanctuary, in preparing
food for the combatants and in nursing the wounded.

Dada stood looking at their floating home, utterly disappointed and
discouraged. She longed to follow her aunt and to gain admission to the
Serapeutn; but how could she do this now, and of what use could she hope
to be? There was nothing heroic in her composition, and from her infancy
she had always sickened at the sight of blood. She had no alternative but
to return with Medius, and take refuge under his roof.

The singer gave her ample time for reflection; he had seated himself,
with the steward, under the shade of a sycamore, and the two m