erty.'

'Confess, Genevieve, that you are still more curious than I am to see
this extraordinary man, this young Nazarene?'

'Were it so, my dear mistress, there would be nothing astonishing in my
desire; I am a slave, and the Nazarene says that there ought to be no
longer slaves.'

'I render your slavery very hard, then, Genevieve?'

'No, oh! no! But sincerely, do you know many mistresses who resemble
you?'

'It is not for me to reply to that, flatterer'--

'It is for me to say so. If by chance we meet with one good mistress
like you, there are a hundred who, for a word, or the slightest
negligence, mutilate their slaves with the lash, or torture them with a
cruel joy. Is this true?'

'I do not deny it.'

'You render my servitude as mild as possible, my dear mistress; but
still I do not belong to myself. I have been obliged to separate from my
poor Fergan, my husband, who wept so on quitting me. What assures me
that on your return I shall find him at Marseilles, that he has not been
sold and carried I know not where? What assures me that the Seigneur
Gremion will not sell me, or separate me from you?'

'I have promised you that you shall not quit me.'

'But if your husband wishes to sell me, you could not prevent him.'

'Alas! no.'

'And a hundred years ago, the fathers and mothers of us Gauls were free;
however Fergan's ancestors were the most valiant chiefs of their tribe!'

'Oh!' said Aurelia, smiling, 'the daughters of a Caesar would not be more
proud of having an emperor as a father than you are, of what you call
the father of your husband.'

'Pride is not permitted to slaves,' replied Genevieve mournfully; 'all
that I regret, is our liberty. What have we done, then, to lose it? Ah!
if the prayers of this young man of Nazareth are answered! if there are
to be no more slaves!'

'No more slaves? Why, Genevieve, you are mad; is it possible! No more
slaves? That their life be rendered as sweet as possible, be it so; but
no more slaves would be the end of the world.--Look you, Genevieve, it
is these exaggerations that do so much harm to this young Nazarene.'

'He is not believed by the rich and powerful.--Yesterday, at the supper
with Pontius Pilate, standing behind you, I did not lose a word. What
bitterness against this young man!'

'What would you, Genevieve?' replied Aurelia smiling; ''tis a little his
own fault.'

'You, too, accuse him?'

'No, but still he attacks the bankers, the doctors