NeAEra: A Tale of Ancient Rome

CHAPTER XII.

Things were changed in the small household of Masthlion. The same daily routine proceeded, but it was carried on under the depressing shadow of a cloud which darkened the brow of the potter. He was no more than human, and transient shadows had been there before; but, in the memory of the two females who shared his home, never such an unwelcome symptom of abiding care as that which now haunted their eyes.

He was their self-imposed autocrat, and it was natural that the gloom of his mind should be reflected on their own, just as the landscape takes its hue from the skies. Their sleepless solicitude, rooted in tender love, outweighed even the fear-quickened service of the trembling slaves of Caesar; and never was man less exacting in his demands upon such a boundless store of devotion to his needs, or yet more innocent of direct effort or intention to deserve it. It was the simple tribute to his nature, which bore not a ripple of vanity or self-sufficiency to break the unruffled flow of his cheerful serenity.

Living in the full gratification and contentment of mutual affection, he yet never suspected the depth of reverence which lay rooted in the minds of the two women and sanctified their love. He was incapable, by nature, of arriving at such a pitch of self-consciousness. His was the disposition which would have been the touchstone of a termagant’s foul humours, and a standing invitation to her persecutions. Fate had blessed him in averting such misery by giving him the companionship of two gentle natures the reflex of his own. The current of existence in his own nest had, therefore, been uniformly calm and quietly happy, even through his early struggles. Bitter reproach, the frequent adjunct of poverty and privation, had no [pg 237]existence in his poor house, for Tibia, his wife, was too devoted and worshipping to harbour an adverse thought. Nor was there any ground, had she been so minded, for he had toiled like a Titan, and ever maintained his native cheerfulness. The trial of those days had long passed, and, with a surer footing and a better competence, the child NeÆra had come to fill the void in their childless home. She needed little of the example and training of her supposed mother to follow in the same path of devotion to the potter. His nature asserted its sway over her mind and heart, and they were inseparable companions from the first. Indeed she cared for no other when he was by, and even in her childish ailments would suffer no other nurse than the rough-handed, toil-worn man. Often he had been brought out of his workshop to the side of the child’s pallet, after his wife had exhausted all arts and contrivances to soothe her fretfulness; and it was strange to see the sudden composure steal over her as, begrimed with clay and the furnace, he took up his place beside her and clasped her tiny hand in his. And yet, perhaps, not so much to wonder at, when one perceived the tenderness which welled in his dark, deep-set eyes, and crooned in the soft, soothing tones of his voice, as it poured into her eager ears some tale of wonderland. Of such superlative divinity is the gentleness of strength.

The trouble of Masthlion’s mind was borne, in obedience to his nature, silently and patiently, but was none the less evident to the keen anxious eyes of the women. Always devoted to his workshop, he now passed more time than ever in its smoky walls, rarely appearing save for meals. He spoke little and his look was absorbed; but, many times, NeÆra caught his glance resting upon her with a haggard expression which smote her with poignant pain.

All this upon the simplest reasoning was ascribed to the influence of Cestus—because the change was simultaneous with his appearance in their midst. It was hardly possible to make a mistake in the matter. Tibia, at least, was certain. We have seen her stealing downstairs, to find her husband sitting, steeped in grief, before the cold ashes in the brazier, after his first interview with his brother-in-law. She had subsequently endeavoured to obtain an explanation from him, but, though his heart ached as well as feared to tell her, he was obliged to [pg 238]preserve his promise to Cestus, and undergo the additional pain of bearing his trouble in secret. Nor was she any more successful when she applied to Cestus himself, who, with his usual readiness, disclaimed all knowledge, and in fact looked rather surprised. Thus she was constrained to remain with a disagreeable shadow of a mystery hanging between her and her husband—the first experience of the kind since their companionship; and, perforce, in such a position as rendered her painfully helpless to give him any sympathy and help whatever. NeÆra’s concern for her father, on the other hand, was mixed with a guilty feeling which pricked her sorely and would not be argued away. Those glances, which she caught at times fixed upon her, seemed full of reproach, and were well-nigh insupportable. To her exaggerated fancy they seemed to say, ‘Look what you have done! Thus have you repaid my love and care by your wilfulness.’ In this way she connected his trouble with her relation to Martialis, and no more bitter conclusion could be arrived at, since it placed in direct antagonism the two beings she most loved on earth. She reflected how gradually and reluctantly the potter had given way to her betrothal. How, at first, he had almost absolutely refused to listen at all; his journey to Rome, and final, tardy assent—given, as she felt sure, not because he approved, but because he had not been able to discover any tangible ground or excuse for objection. But, she further reflected, even then, at the worst, his anxiety took no such dark shape as at present. He never avoided her, as he appeared to do now, to her unspeakable sorrow. Then he conversed freely and without restraint on the matter, and, if more anxious and earnest at times, he never entirely lost his customary cheerfulness. It was with the arrival of her uncle from Rome the change had at once become manifest, and one day, when alone with the Suburan, she taxed him with it, and desired him to explain the coincidence, if possible.

Now it happened that Cestus, in the course of his sojourn in the house, had yielded to a feeling of admiration for the beautiful girl, which was really sincere; and the feeling of respect which accompanied it was not only derived from consideration for the future, but actually due to her qualities themselves. He had very early changed his customary, bold, [pg 239]impudent manner of address in her presence, and relieved it of as much vulgarity as possible, with the effect of gradually lessening the aversion with which she at first had regarded him. He took pains to still improve the position, and with success. His fluency of tongue and natural ability for description stood him in good stead; and NeÆra began to incline very readily to hear him talk to her about the great city and its people—a subject of which he was a profound master. One day he made her a gift, and, as he had the tact to make it unostentatious as well as seasonable, it was very well received. Thus, artfully, and by degrees, her early repugnance to the Roman was conquered, to the latter’s genuine satisfaction. He secretly took a profound interest in her, and was never tired of observing her ways. It gave him pride to reflect what an important factor he was in her career, and to think that, save for him, such a beautiful creature had been entirely lost to the world. These feelings were inspired and lifted beyond mere mercenary and selfish considerations by the same native superiority, which seemed to command his deference, and assign her to a higher sphere. Nor did the effect of his intercourse with her end here. Her beauty and purity were unconsciously leavening the dark depths of his mind, and quickening unaccustomed thoughts with a new spirit of nobility and refinement.

With these influences silently at work, the time which the Suburan was spending, in his sojourn under the roof of his relatives, was productive of more good, even morally than physically; whilst NeÆra’s presence easily reconciled him to the lapse of time which, as day after day passed on, seemed to bring him no nearer to the proper accomplishment of his great end. Whatever kindly metamorphosis was taking place in his thoughts and disposition, that one resolution which had brought him hither suffered no change or modification. It rose superior to the rest—the gloomy, immovable mountain of his mind, to the dark bosom of which all meditations tended and circled, and beyond which speculation never ventured a step, as if existence had there an end. One of his favourite excursions was to the nearest headland on the western coast, whence the island of Capreae could be seen afar resting in the waters. There he would sit and gaze upon its rugged [pg 240]outline; amusing himself by imagining the movements of his patron, hugging himself with delight, and chuckling audibly, as he conjured before his mind’s eye the fancy picture, oft-repeated, of the confusion, the rage and despair of the knight, on that joyous day of revenge, which was hurrying on. At such moments, which were very frequent, the Suburan’s blood would tingle in his veins, and his spirit chafe in vehement impatience at the tardy approach of his wished-for opportunity. He would stretch forth his fist and shake it, in helpless wrath, at the rocky isle which afforded his enemy an asylum, and where he himself was unable to enter,—nor dared, had he the opportunity. So often as he felt impelled, though against his reason, to the same fruitless survey, so often the island seemed to mock him with its changeless form, its very sloth amid the waters, its silence, its impenetrable rocks and impervious mystery. It emitted nothing from which he might glean a reliable idea of the disposition of affairs within its jealous bosom. He could do nothing but gaze at the irritating sight with a kind of fascination, and anathematise it, with all it contained, from Caesar downward. His cunning and vigilance were helpless, and he was compelled to realise that nothing was left to him but patience and watchfulness. As long as Afer remained in Capreae he could not work out his plan. He was, therefore, eager and anxious for every appearance of Martialis from the island, in the hope of learning of the early departure of the Prefect and his friends for Rome.

He was revolving the possibilities of such an appearance one afternoon, whilst lending NeÆra some assistance in carrying a basket of new earthenware into the front shop, and arranging them on the shelves. When he had finished, he leisurely swung his cloak around him before he set forth on his usual stroll to the Marina, and admiringly watched the graceful movements of the maiden’s tall figure, as she put the finishing touches of arrangement to the wares on the shelf above her head. With a final, critical glance, she turned round and met his gaze.

‘Well,’ she said smilingly, ‘are you not gone?’

‘I was doubtful which way to take,’ he replied; ‘but if you have anything more for me to help you with I would as lieve stay.’

[pg 241]

‘No, nothing at all; but wait one moment, uncle,’ she added quickly and softly, whilst her face at the same time assumed an earnest look as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘Tell me what ails my father?’

As she stood upright, with her head poised a little backward, her stature equalled his, and her calm, gray eyes looked full into his own. With another questioner, those small orbs of his would have twinkled keenly, as his tongue rapped out a ready evasion or bantering retort. But now they wandered to the pots on the shelves, during a moment of unwonted embarrassment and silent indecision. It was only for a brief moment, however, and his glance met hers again.

‘What ails your father, NeÆra?’ he said quietly; ‘I don’t see that he ails anything. He seems as sound in health as ever, to my eyes. Why, what is the matter with him?’

‘That I am asking you—not as regards his bodily health; that is sound enough, as you say, thank the gods. But there is some trouble—something preying on his mind: have you not noticed it?’

‘I am sorry to hear you say it,’ replied Cestus, slowly shaking his head; ‘but I am not so well acquainted with his ways and humours as you are.’

‘He has no ways and humours,’ she retorted swiftly, with a slight but significant rearing of her form—‘at least no strange ways or humours. He is ever open, cheerful, and light-hearted, without a shadow of ill-humour. Now he is silent and gloomy, and hides away from us—what is it?’

There was a tremor in her voice, and in the eyes, which still were steadfastly fixed on his face, he saw the trembling gleam of tears.

‘Nay, how should I know better than his daughter?’ he said, looking uncomfortably at the pots once more.

‘His daughter knows nothing save this, that this trouble, whatever it may be, which weighs upon him, began at the time you came here from Rome.’

‘Ah, then,’ said Cestus, shrugging his shoulders and drawing a deep breath as if relieved, ‘if that is but the measure of the evil, it is easily mended by my shouldering my wallet and tramping back to Rome. You should have told me this before. I wouldn’t be a burden to the house, and be the [pg 242]cause of bringing a shadow on your pretty brow for all Surrentum.’

‘Ah! I meant not that,’ she said hastily, with a delicate colour flushing her cheeks.

He shook his head, and his broad face expanded still more with a grin.

‘I’ve noticed that you usually say what you mean, NeÆra; so tell me now plainly to go, nor shall I be offended at your plain speaking.’

‘If you put that meaning on my words you are wrong, and I ought not to have spoken them. What I thought was, that you might have brought him ill news, or something which weighs on his mind.’

‘I! why I have not seen or heard from him for fourteen long years! We might as well have been dead all that time. What could I have brought with me to trouble him? Like enough, it is as you say. He’s bothered to have a ne’er-do-well about him and his. I’ll try and find out; and, if ’tis so, I’ll march straight away.’

‘I remember that he was strangely overjoyed to see you,’ replied NeÆra, gazing steadily at him.

‘And without doubt he was, for he is too good-hearted to be sorry to see even a vagabond like myself turn up again. But I will do my best to try and find out the trouble and move it, and, failing that, move myself.’

‘If you are so determined to find yourself in fault I cannot help it, since you will not believe what I say.’

‘The best of guests can outstay his welcome; what then must it be with me?’

‘As you will,’ ejaculated NeÆra curtly, and she turned again to the pots on the shelves with great dignity.

Cestus grinned and his eyes twinkled.

‘At least you couldn’t deny that if I went to-day you would feel as if a load was off your shoulders, and you would sit down to your supper with a better appetite.’

‘You know that is not a fair way of speaking, and I shall not answer,’ she said, turning round with reproof in her eyes.

‘Well! well! I am not so foolish as to expect that I can be like one of yourselves in the house,’ he replied, not caring [pg 243]to push the matter any further. ‘It is your good treatment which has made me selfish. However, I may be able to do you all a good turn some day, and show you that I can remember a kindness.’

‘There is no need, and you have no right to persist in talking like this; we have given you no cause—our house was never so shamed as to turn a guest from its doors.’

‘Nay, that I will swear,’ said Cestus humbly; ‘I am a good deal in jest, but my conscience is not altogether easy. The fresh air of this place has pulled me round, and I am as strong as ever. I will go back to Rome like a giant—why should I cumber you any longer? It would be bad manners. Moreover I am city bred, and the peace and quiet of this place, beautiful as it is, begins to make me fret after crowded streets. Such is nature. The roar and bustle of Rome would weary you just as soon, and you would be thankful to return to your fresh air and sleepy town. Would you like to go to Rome, NeÆra?’

‘Ah!’ she said.

Cunning Cestus to put such a question to a young provincial girl. It was for nothing but the mischievous curiosity of watching the sparkle in her eye, and the deep heave of her bosom at the very mention of such a thing.

‘Will you go back with me for a time?’ said the voice of the tempter. ‘No one would take better care of you than I: no one knows the city and its ways better than I—every day for weeks could I show you new sights.’

But NeÆra could only say no, and shake her head in a despairing way.

‘I would not be happy to leave my father.’

‘Let him come too.’

‘It would be useless to ask him.’

‘For your sake he would come.’

‘For the sake of a pleasure trip?—No! Besides he has been there, and not long since returned.’

‘And was not that on your account? What he has done once can he not do again? You know right well that he is never so happy as when you are pleased. His own enjoyment would be as great as yours.’

‘It is out of the question,’ said NeÆra firmly, though her [pg 244]cheeks flushed; and Cestus, who had seated himself on a stool, regarded her with evident, though restrained enjoyment.

‘Yes, it is quite true he has been to Rome on your account and no other,’ he continued, ‘and it is just as true, in my mind, that he will go there again on your account.’

NeÆra raised her eyes to his and the wondering expression was sufficient demand for explanation without speech.

‘There is no need for me to take you. You will go there by and by in better company, and your father and mother, mark my words, will follow to be near you.’

Her cheek gathered a faint colour again, but an expression of deep sadness stole over her face, and she turned her head aside. The Suburan pored keenly upon the perfect loveliness of her profile, which showed in singular relief under the white light streaming upon it from the open-fronted shop. He studied it intently, and, to judge from the expression of his countenance, with great satisfaction. Not altogether with the ordinary gratification which naturally arises from the contemplation of beauty, but, in this case, a particular satisfaction proceeding from the powerful recollections which her face inspired. A similar sweetness, a similar pure symmetry and nobility, was recalled to his mind, and he admired, therefore, with a double pleasure.

‘Have no fear, your father will follow,’ said Cestus assuringly. ‘One need not be an augur to foretell that.’

‘Alas, I think it is only I myself that give him this trouble,’ replied NeÆra, with a heavy sigh.

‘Not at all!’ responded Cestus, never telling a lie with more pleasure. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter, but it isn’t that. It will all come right—it isn’t sunshine every day. Wait till I’m gone—I only want to see one person before I go, and perhaps you will tell me how long I shall have to wait.’

‘Who do you mean?’ said NeÆra absently.

‘Why, the man who will, before long, take you to Rome—the Centurion.’

‘I know not that he will take me thither, and what can you want with him?’ said NeÆra.

‘Merely a question or two—you see he has but a poor opinion of me, I am afraid, and I would like to part better [pg 245]friends. I may be able to do him a service some day—who knows?’

‘He comes when he can,’ said NeÆra.

‘Humph!’ replied Cestus, ‘that’s as sure as death; but can you give me nothing nearer?’

‘Nothing—he might be here to-day, or he might be a month. But what do you want to ask him?’

‘Nothing, except for a little information connected with some business of my own; and to tell him to get you away from here as soon as possible, so that I may be able to get a glimpse of you again before long in the city.’

He laughed and rose from his seat about to go forth into the town.

‘The proud dames of the Centurion’s order will perhaps pretend to sneer at you,’ he went on, ‘but you need not mind—you will have the laugh of them, for you will be the handsomest wife in the city. ’Twill be a great change from Surrentum to Rome—from a potter’s daughter to a noble name. But never fear; you will be as pat in the place as you are here. Proud dames and damsels! the handsomest wife in Rome—you will have the laugh of them.’

‘I seek to interfere with none of them,’ said NeÆra; ‘you talk idly, uncle; I am still the potter’s daughter.’

‘That is so!’ said Cestus; ‘now I’m off!’

He stepped to the door of the shop, and, after the manner of many people, and more especially those whose time is not too fully occupied, he hesitated when he stood on the step, as if to collect his thoughts into a single steady current of deliberation before he finally advanced. This momentary halt for reflection was accompanied by an abstracted glance round the familiar objects out-of-doors. To the left was to be seen nothing but the moss and creeper-grown wall of the road, which crossed at right angles, some fifty yards away; to the right, the sparsely built and quiet lane trended away toward the town. The only signs of life therein, at that moment, were two or three groups of children playing, a couple of dames standing in the roadway to gossip, as they met carrying their water pitchers, and, at a distance of a hundred yards or so, two men leisurely advancing. Turning from the blank prospect on the left to the sight of these two [pg 246]individuals on the right, the lack-lustre, pre-occupied gaze of the Suburan snapped electrically into acute attention. Instinctively he shrank back behind the shelter of the broad doorpost, and, for the few brief moments, he assumed the functions of a savage animal, or its imitator, the savage hunter. His ears seemed to prick up; his body took an attitude bent slightly forward, with muscles braced and corded, and head thrust prominently out. His heavy thick brows were knitted down so low as almost to obscure his intense gaze, and his stiff stubbly-bearded lips were clenched and protruding. Altogether the change was so rapid, and his present appearance so menacing and absorbed, that NeÆra, about to resume her occupation, was struck with surprise.

Her eyes naturally followed in the direction of his concentrated gaze, but owing to her backward position inside the shop, nothing met her view.

‘What is it?’ she said, stepping to his side to look.

Her voice recalled the Suburan to himself, and straightening himself up, he cast a parting glance at the new-comers, now close at hand, and turned away into the house, saying hurriedly he had forgotten something.

The strange behaviour of Cestus stuck in the mind of NeÆra, and she stood in the doorway puzzling her brains for a reason. Suddenly she became aware that the two men had drawn within twenty or thirty yards, and were regarding her with a direct gaze. Recovering herself abruptly, she turned away inside, and remained with her back to the road, until they should pass on. But in this she was disappointed, for a foot sounded on the step, and a voice said, ‘You can wait, Erotion!’

In the meantime, Cestus left the shop, and rushed into the little room, previously described as a kind of state apartment, which lay between the shop on one side, and the kitchen on the other. Into the wall dividing this room from the shop was let a small square window, unglazed, which admitted air and light at second hand. It was rather high up, and a couple of small statuettes stood in the opening. Cestus bounded on to the couch which stood underneath, and, stepping unto the topmost pinnacle of its framework, he was enabled to bring his eyes sufficiently high to overlook what passed in the shop. [pg 247]He furthermore arranged the little statuettes closer together, in order to still more shield the small portion of himself from any possible chance of observation. All this was inspired by instinct, which never admitted of any doubt, and he had only just taken up his post, when Afer, and his Greek, Erotion, stopped before the door of the shop.

‘I knew it when I caught sight of them,’ muttered the Suburan, with burning eyes and tumultuous breathing. ‘What brings him here, of all places in the world? What is in his brain now? What does it mean? Does he know anything?’

He was quivering with intense excitement, and, but for the dark stain which he still used for his skin, his face would have been ashy white. A thousand fears and forebodings tore his mind, whilst nervous dread and hate shook him till his frame quivered like a leaf. With his faculties at their utmost stretch he watched and listened for what should follow.

After a close scrutiny, as if to assure himself, Afer entered the shop, and Cestus observed, with satisfaction, that the lynx-eyed Erotion remained in the roadway. The further the Greek was away the freer he breathed, for he knew his profound subtlety of old.

NeÆra heard the leisurely step of the knight behind her, but did not turn until he spoke and called her attention to his presence. Then her gaze rested on the visitor, whose person was clothed in its accustomed perfection of style and taste, even to a fold, and whose white and carefully-kept hands glittered with gems. Customers of rank and position were not altogether new to her, since Masthlion had a certain reputation for the character of his work, so that she was in no wise disconcerted on account of the superior grade of the comer; but there was that in the expression of his closely-set, glistening, black eyes and supercilious lips, which affected her uncomfortably. He, moreover, treated her to a leisurely survey, which might have passed without remark, had its object been the merits of a horse or dog, but which the beautiful girl resented inwardly for its impertinent freedom and boldness. The half nodding, condescending approval which plainly showed on his face, roused her indignation even more, and, with a flush on her cheeks, she drew up her tall frame, and returned him a glance of high displeasure. Afer faintly smiled, evidently amused [pg 248]thereat. He curled his thin lips, and spoke again with a faint drawl in his tone, whilst Cestus, above at his post, ground his teeth in suppressed rage.

‘This is the shop of Masthlion the potter?’

‘It is!’ replied NeÆra, briefly and coldly.

Afer scanned her over and smiled again—the girl was certainly favoured with good looks, but, at the same time, it was amusing to observe to what great extent the knowledge of the fact had increased her importance in her own eyes.

‘I have heard that he is skilful in his work, and I came to see for myself; these are his handiwork, I presume?’

He nodded to the ware with which the shelves were filled, and his query was answered in the affirmative.

‘I will look at them. You are his daughter; is it not so?’

‘I am,’ replied NeÆra, and resolving to be rid of the company of this individual, whose impertinence and patronising air were so irritating, she added that her father should attend to his wants himself, and she accordingly turned to go to the workshop and fetch him.

‘No! no!’ exclaimed Afer, detaining her with his hand, and giving a slight laugh, ‘I have no consuming desire to make your worthy father’s acquaintance; and, besides, there is no occasion to take him from his work. He is industrious, and would not like it, and, moreover, knows very well that the care of his customers is in better hands as it is. I prefer—and who would not—to have your own fair hands submit these specimens for my approval, and your own fair lips to sound their praises.’

‘Will you please to look for yourself, noble sir, and see whether there be anything suitable?’ answered NeÆra, curtly and loftily.

‘Naturally,’ he replied, with a cold smile, ‘but am I not to have your aid in my selection?’

‘I cannot perceive how I can be of help; you know your own taste better than I.’

‘It is true I have been thought to have some small share of taste in such matters, and to comprehend thoroughly what little I possess; but in the midst of such a bewildering collection of treasures as I see here around me, my perception [pg 249]is at fault, and requires strengthening. I require one specimen, and I leave the selection to your superior judgment.’

The knight allowed his eyes to sweep round at the ‘treasures’ with infinite scorn. Surrentine ware was well known, but it was only of a lower order, and held no place in the eyes of the art critic, or on the shelves of the wealthy.

Whether NeÆra comprehended her customer’s tone or not, her face gave no sign; but, without the least hesitation, she stepped before him and reached down a vase, about twelve inches high, and held it to his hands. It was more elaborate in design, and more highly finished than any in the shop, and a fellow to it remained on the shelf.

‘This pair, then, is the best and the handsomest I can offer.’

‘I am content,’ he replied, with the faintest little sneer, as he touched the vase with the extreme tip of one of his white jewelled fingers, and turned it slightly to one side and then to the other; ‘they shall have a niche in my atrium on the Esquiline, and the rest of my wretched little Roman pots and pipkins shall bow down before them. And the price thereof, the paltry equivalent to such masterpieces?’

We have no record of the market price of Surrentine industry, but with the utmost readiness and sang froid, NeÆra calmly named a price that caused the knight to start and frown portentously, being an undoubted authority on such matters, and a keen bargainer by nature as well as necessity.

Cestus, in his observatory, opened his mouth and eyes in blank astonishment for a moment; for, having passed no small portion of his idle time in the shop, he had learned tolerably well the prices of the simple goods, and of these articles now offered in particular. They had remained unsold since his arrival, whilst ranks of others of simple utility had found owners, in the meantime; so that Cestus, well acquainted with them, was amazed to hear the girl ask a price at least ten times greater than that which he knew to be their fixed value. He stared down from his loophole upon her, but she stood calmly waiting before her customer, and when the glance of the Suburan wandered to the expression on the face of the knight, his former patron, his delight was such as nearly caused him to laugh outright. ‘Now stand to your bargain, you cur,’ he [pg 250]muttered, amid many chuckles. ‘By Hercles, she’s touched him; she couldn’t have thrust deeper; she might have known him as I do—clever wench!’

‘You approve, then?’ said NeÆra. ‘Shall I call your slave to take them?’ She made a move as if to take down the vase remaining on the shelf, but he raised his flashing fingers deprecatingly.

‘Stay,’ he replied, as his look of disgust relapsed once more into its former superciliousness; ‘I don’t question your taste for one moment, but I take leave to challenge your memory—you must surely be mistaken as to the price you put on these wonderful specimens. In my humble opinion it is quite prohibitive, and out of all proportion to the intrinsic value of the things.’

‘I have done as you desired me to do.’

‘Yes, yes; but the cost?’

‘Is what I have already told you, and I cannot alter it one penny.’

‘It is out of reason, and on that account, much as I would wish to profit by your judgment, I shall be compelled to forego it.’

‘Ah!’ snarled Cestus.

‘And truly,’ continued Afer, ‘the sum required is so large, that I doubt whether my slave’s purse contains sufficient to discharge the debt, even supposing I think right to incur it.’

‘Pah!’ was the muttered commentary of the Suburan, given with fathomless contempt, ‘the liar! He knows to a farthing what the fellow’s pouch has in it—nothing beyond a few copper coins, I’ll warrant; and woe betide him if he can’t square his reckoning when he gets home.’

‘In that case, I suppose, I should be right in saying that such a poor wretch as myself could never hope for credit,’ continued Afer, with a sneer.

‘You are a perfect stranger, sir,’ replied NeÆra.

‘Exactly—with no recommendation. I shall, therefore, be compelled to select something more in keeping with my humble resources of ready coin, which, I am afraid, will be an impossible task, if prices are all levied at the same modest computation.’

‘This, then, perhaps you may approve of,’ said NeÆra [pg 251]promptly; and going to the opposite end of the shop, she took and handed to him a small brown vessel, two or three inches high, without any more pretension to beauty than any ordinary glass bottle.

‘Ah, now you have hit my taste exactly,’ exclaimed Afer, receiving the plainest of plain articles in his hand with the blandest smile of exquisite irony; ‘you have indeed gauged my ideas to a nicety. The other articles were really as much beyond my artistic appreciation as their cost was above my poor purse; but this is delightful in its beautiful simplicity—I wait to hear you name its price.’

NeÆra informed him. ‘Good! I accept,’ said he; ‘it is modest indeed. It is, I think, within my means, and I am relieved in mind. Hither, Erotion! Take this, and pay what is asked of you.’

While the young Greek was producing the two or three copper coins which were needed, his master arranged his cloak and took his leave. NeÆra took the money from the slave, who bestowed upon her an admiring gaze, with something of the same license as his master.

‘I am glad to find your father’s fame has not been belied,’ observed Afer; ‘it is only too evident. The next time I come I shall come better provided; yet, even with this little treasure which I have been fortunate enough to secure, I shall no doubt be able to induce many others to follow my example.’

So saying, and showing his white teeth with a smile, he left the shop followed by Erotion, who, on his own account, turned as he passed through the door, and smirked behind him, leaving NeÆra standing with the deepest indignation in her face.

They had scarcely passed from view when Cestus hurriedly re-entered the shop, and going to the door peered after them.

‘Did you see them—do you know them?’ exclaimed NeÆra.

‘Yes, yes, I saw them come along—I have seen him somewhere before—I will try and think before I come back,’ answered Cestus hastily. ‘I will go through the fields, I think, for a stroll.’

He retreated through the house, and crossing the small patch of garden in the rear, emerged into a cart-track. [pg 252]This ran more or less parallel with the street, and skirted the gardens and little fields belonging to the houses. Here and there was a path for convenience of communication between the main and back thoroughfares, and Cestus ran ahead until he reached such an one which commanded a ready view from end to end. At the bottom of this he waited a few moments, until he saw the forms of Afer and his slave cross the upper end, and then, being sure he was in their rear, he walked up into the street. He either forgot his altered appearance, or had such small faith in its ability to mislead those whom he was now dogging, that he followed with the extreme care of a hunter tracking a wild animal through its native woods. He kept them in view at the furthest possible distance; stopped when they stopped, and cowered behind walls or anything which came handiest, to avoid the slightest chance of being noticed. One of the first actions he observed was that of Erotion, who, in answer to something which his master said, threw away to one side an article he carried. Cestus instinctively guessed what it was, and following on, passed the fragments of the small, recently-purchased pot lying at the foot of a wall. This act confirmed his suspicions, that his former patron’s object in visiting Masthlion’s shop was distinctly not that of buying of the wares it contained. The Suburan, in consequence, plunged still deeper into an agony of suspicion, and as often as he soothed himself with the fact that it was impossible that NeÆra’s identity could be known, so often he plagued himself afresh with the question of its probability.

Step by step he pursued the leisurely track of the knight until they reached the centre of the town, where Afer visited one or two shops. After this they entered the baths, and Cestus was left to cool his heels for a considerable time outside. He was a sleuth-hound of undaunted mettle, however, when once on a scent, and there being a wine-shop at no great distance, whence he could watch the door of the building his quarry had entered, he proceeded thither, and sat patiently over a bowl of thin wine. He was determined to see the last of them, since he could neither live nor move in peace, if haunted by the possibility of encountering them at any chance time face to face. After a long delay his patience was [pg 253]rewarded by the sight of the knight issuing refreshed from the bath, and taking his way, followed by his retainer, toward the Marina. Here they perhaps meant to take boat to the island, thought Cestus, with a sigh of relief. But no, he was disappointed; for they entered an inn of considerable pretensions, and the Suburan was doomed to another lengthy delay, whilst the knight was most probably dining. The afternoon was wearing on. The dusk was beginning to thicken when the watcher’s eyes were once more gladdened by the appearance of master and slave. He rejoiced to see them saunter across to the steps which led down to the Marina. Thence he had no more need to follow, but, leaning over the cliff, observed their movements without difficulty and danger, and ere long watched them speeding over the darkening sea before a fair breeze. Cestus gave a deep sigh of relief. When they were nearly out of sight he turned homeward, and, for a season at least, was at liberty to devote his attention entirely to his own deliberations.

[pg 254]

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