e had found much to please her in the young sculptor's fresh
and happy artist nature, in his frank demeanor and his honest way of
speech. She felt convinced that Pollux, more readily than anybody else,
would understand what it was that lent a charm to her face, which was in
no way strictly beautiful, a charm which could not be disputed in spite
of the coarse caricature which stood before her.

She felt herself the richer by a painful experience, indignant, and
offended. Accustomed as she was to give prompt utterance even to her
displeasure, she exclaimed hotly, and with tears in her eyes:

"It is shameful, it is base. Give me my wraps Claudia. I will not stay
an instant longer to be the butt of this man's coarse and spiteful
jesting."

"It is unworthy," cried the matron, "so to insult a person of your
position. It is to be hoped our litters are waiting outside."

Pontius had overheard Balbilla's last words. He had come into the
work-place without Pollux, who was still speaking to the prefect, and he
said gravely as he approached Balbilla:

"You have every reason to be angry, noble lady. This thing is an insult
in clay, malicious, and at the same time coarse in every detail; but
it was not Pollux who did it, and it is not right to condemn without a
trial."

"You take your friend's part!" exclaimed Balbilla. "I would not tell a
lie for my own brother."

"You know how to give your words the aspect of an honorable meaning in
serious matters, as he does in jest."

"You are angry and unaccustomed to bridle your tongue," replied the
architect. "Pollux, I repeat it, did not perpetrate the caricature, but
a sculptor from Rome."

"Which of them? I know them all."

"I may not name him."

"There--you see.--Come away Claudia."

"Stay," said Pontius, decisively. "If you were any one but yourself, I
would let you go at once in your anger, and with the double charge on
your conscience of doing an injustice to two well-meaning men. But as
you are the granddaughter of Claudius Balbillus, I feel it to be due
to myself to say, that if Pollux had really made this monstrous bust he
would not be in this palace now, for I should have turned him out and
thrown the horrid object after him. You look surprised--you do not know
who I am that can address you so."

"Yes, yes," cried Balbilla, much mollified, for she felt assured that
the man who stood before her, as unflinching as if he were cast in
bronze, and with an earnest frown,