empting to
escape to the catacombs--how that stripes and torture were the daily
portion of the unfortunates in his power--and that, not by reason of any
gross neglect of their duty, but for the merest and most trifling
inadvertencies. Better death than such a fate.

'Pah! What can I do?' retorted Porthenus, skilfully touching the chord
of her sympathies, as he saw how sensitive she was to its vibrations.
'It is true that Polidorus is no fawning woman, and that he greets his
slaves with the rod and the brand, and what not. It is true that he
thinks but little of sending one of them to Hades through the avenue of
his fishponds. But that, after all, is his affair, and if he chooses to
destroy his property, what should it matter to me? Am I so rich that I
can afford to lose a fair purchaser because he may incline to hang or
drown his bargain? Such self-denial may suit the governor of a
province, but should not be expected of a poor centurion.'

AEnone trembled, and again the impulse to make the purchase came upon
her. Better to risk anything for herself--recognition, discovery,
suspicion, or misconstruction, than that her friendship should so far
fail as to allow this poor captive to fall into the hands of a brutish
tyrant. There was a purse of gold in the half-opened drawer of a table
which stood near her; and, in sore perplexity, she raised it, then let
it fall, and again lifted it. As the centurion listened to the ring of
the metal, his eyes sparkled, and he prepared to apply new arguments,
when Cleotos himself sprang forward.

'I know nothing about this Polidorus of whom they speak,' said he,
dropping upon one knee at her feet. 'And it is not to save myself from
his hands that I ask your pity, most noble lady. There is much that I
have already suffered, and perhaps a little more might make no
difference, or, better yet, might close the scene with me forever. It is
for other reasons that I would wish to be in this house--even as the
lowest, meanest slave of all, rather than to live in the halls of the
emperor Titus himself. There is one in this house, most noble lady, from
whom I have long been cruelly separated, and who--what can I say but
that if, when I was a free man, she gave me her love, now, in my
abasement, she will not fail with that love to brighten my lot?'

AEnone started. At hearing such words, there could be but one thought in
her mind--that he had actually recognized her, and that, without waiting
to s