e young and lovely Empress Valeria, the
daughter of Diocletian and Prisca, and wife of the co-Emperor, Galerius
C[ae]sar. The object of envy of all the women of Borne, she lived to become
within a few short years the object of their profoundest commiseration.
Of her even the unsympathetic Gibbon remarks that "her melancholy
adventures might furnish a very singular subject for tragedy."

"Nay, now, Callirho[e:]," said the Empress, with a weary smile, "that will
do! Put up my hair and bind it with this fillet," and she held out a
gold-embroidered ribband. "Thou knowest I care not for the elaborate
coiffure that is now so fashionable."

"Your Majesty needs it not," said the slave, speaking Greek with a low
sweet voice, and with an Attic purity of accent. "As one of your own
poets has said, you appear 'when unadorned, adorned the most.'"

"Flatterer," said the Empress, tapping her gaily and almost caressingly
with a plumy fan of ostrich feathers which she held lightly in one hand,
"you are trying to spoil me."

"Such goodness as thine, sweet mistress," said the slave, affectionately
kissing her hand, "it would be impossible to spoil."

"Dost know, Callirho[e:]," said the young Empress, with a smile of
bewitching sweetness, "that I have a surprise for thee? It is, thou
knowest, my birthday, and in my honour is the banquet given to-day. But
I have a greater pleasure than the banquet can bestow. I give thee this
day thy freedom. Thou art no more a slave, but the freedwoman of the
Empress Valeria. See, here are the papers of thy manumission," and she
drew from the girdle of her robe a sealed and folded parchment, which
she handed to the now emancipated slave.

"Dearest mistress!" exclaimed the faithful creature, who had thrown
herself on the marble pavement and was kissing the sandaled feet of the
beautiful Empress, but an outburst of sobs and tears choked her
utterance.

"What! weeping!" exclaimed Valeria. "Are you sorry then?"

"Nay, they are tears of joy," exclaimed the girl, smiling through her
tears, like the sun shining through a shower; "not that I tire of thy
service; I wish never to leave it. But I rejoice that my father's
daughter can serve thee no longer as thy slave, but as thy freedwoman."

"I should indeed be sorry to lose thee," said the august lady with a
wistful smile. "If I thought I should, I would almost regret thy
manumission; for believe me, Callirho[e:], I have need of true friends, and
thou, I