the house. The slaves squatted on the ground nearer
to the door, and crowded into two circles, each surrounding a steaming
dish, out of which they helped themselves to the brown stew of lentils
with the palm of the hand. A round, grey-looking cake of bread lay
near each, and was not to be broken till the steward Jethro had cut and
apportioned the sheep. The juicy pieces of the back and thighs of the
animal were offered to Petrus and his family to choose from, but the
carver laid a slice for each slave on his cake--a larger for the men
and a smaller for the women. Many looked with envy on the more succulent
piece that had fallen to a neighbor's share, but not even those that
had fared worst dared to complain, for a slave was allowed to speak only
when his master addressed him, and Petrus forbid even his children to
discuss their food whether to praise it or to find fault.

In the midst of the underlings sat Miriam; she never ate much, and all
meat was repulsive to her, so she pushed the cut from the ribs that was
given to her over to an old garden-woman, who sat opposite, and who
had often given her a fruit or a little honey, for Miriam loved sweet
things. Petrus spoke not a word to-day to his slaves, and very little
even to his family; Dorothea marked the deep lines between his grave
eyes, not without anxiety, and noted how he pinched his lips, when,
forgetful of the food before him, he sat lost in meditation.

The meal was ended, but still he did not move, nor did he observe the
enquiring glances which were turned on him by many eyes; no one dared to
rise before the master gave the signal.

Miriam followed all his movements with more impatience than any of the
others who were present; she rocked restlessly backwards and forwards,
crumbled the bread that she had left with her slender fingers, and her
breath now came fast and faster, and now seemed to stop entirely. She
had heard the court-yard gate open, and had recognized Hermas' step.

"He wants to speak to the master, in a moment he will come in, and find
me among these--" thought she, and she involuntarily stroked her hand
over her rough hair to smooth it, and threw a glance at the other
slaves, in which hatred and contempt were equally marked.

But Hermas came not. Not for an instant did she think that her ear had
deceived her--was he waiting now at the door for the conclusion of the
meal? Was his late visit intended for the Gaulish lady, to whom she had
seen