long learnt, while she sat apparently gazing at
the ground, to keep her eyes out of the carriage and to see everything
that was going on around her; and as the chariot turned into their
own street she spied in the distance a tall man who looked like her
long-wept Pollux. She fixed her eyes upon him, and had some difficulty
in keeping herself from calling out aloud, for he it was who walked
slowly down the street. She could not be mistaken, for the torches of
two slaves who were walking in front of a litter had broadly lighted up
his face and figure.

He was not lost--he was living, and seeking her. She could have shouted
aloud for joy, but she did not stir till Paulina's chariot was standing
still in front of her house. The door-keeper bustled out as usual to
help his mistress to step out of the high-slung vehicle. Thus Paulina
for an instant turned her back, and in that moment Arsinoe sprang out of
the opposite side of the chariot, and was flying down towards the street
where she had seen her lover. Before Paulina could discover that she was
gone the runaway found herself in the midst of the throng which, when
the day's work was over, poured out from the workshops and factories on
their way home.

Paulina's slaves, who were sent out at once to seek the fugitive, had
to return home this time empty-handed; but Arsinoe, on her part, had not
succeeded in finding him she sought. For an hour she looked round
and about her in vain; then she perceived that her search must be
unsuccessful, and wondered how she might find her way to his parents'
house. Rather than return to her benefactress she would have joined the
roofless crew who passed the night on the hard marble pavement of the
forecourts of the temple.

At first she rejoiced in the sense of recovered liberty, but when none
of the passers-by could tell her where Euphorion, the singer, lived, and
some young men followed her and addressed her with impudent speeches,
terror made her turn aside into a street which led to the Bruchiom;
her persecutors had not even then ceased to follow her, when a litter,
escorted by lictors and several torch-bearers, was carried past. It was
Julia, the kind wife of the prefect, who sat in it; Arsinoe recognized
her at once, followed her, and reached the door of her residence at
the same moment as she herself. As the matron got out of her litter she
observed the girl who placed herself modestly, but with hands uplifted
in entreaty, at the