and resolution that the
horrors of the Triumvirate began, and that, later on, spirit decayed
and brought us to our present fallen state."

By this time the procession, which had long since passed from their
sight, was beginning to break up and disperse. A flock of little
children first appeared, all of whom went aside to the slaves'
quarters except one, who came running up the path between the box-
trees. He was the eldest grandson and namesake of the Senator, a
dark-eyed, brown-haired boy of seven, with the golden bulla hanging
round his neck. Up he came to the old man's knee, proud to tell how
he had scaled every rock, and never needed any help from the
pedagogue slave who had watched over him.

"Sawest thou any barbarians, my Victorinus?" asked his grandfather.

"They stood thickly about Deodatus's door, and Publius said they
were going to mock; but we looked so bold and sang so loud that they
durst not. And Verronax is come down, papa, with Celer; and Celer
wanted to sing too, but they would not let him, and he was so good
that he was silent the moment his master showed him the leash."

"Then is Celer a hound?" asked the Bishop, amused.

"A hound of the old stock that used to fight battles for Bituitus,"
returned the child. "Oh, papa, I am so hungry."

He really did say 'papa,' the fond domestic name which passed from
the patriarch of the household to the Father of the Roman Church.

"Thy mother is watching for thee. Run to her, and she will give
thee a cake--aye, and a bath before thy dinner. So Verronax is
come. I am glad thou wilt see him, my father. The youth has grown
up with my own children, and is as dear to me as my own son. Ah,
here comes my Columba!"

For the maidens were by this time returning, and Columba, robed in
white, with a black veil, worn mantilla fashion over her raven hair,
so as to shade her soft, liquid, dark eyes, came up the steps, and
with a graceful obeisance to her father and the Bishop, took the
seat to which the former drew her beside them.

"Has all gone well, my little dove?" asked her father.

"Perfectly well so far, my father," she replied; but there was
anxiety in her eyes until the gate again opened and admitted the
male contingent of the procession. No sooner had she seen them
safely advancing up the box avenue than she murmured something about
preparing for the meal, and, desiring a dismissal from her father,
disappeared into the women's apartments, while