‘True, Clodius,’ said Sallust:  ’it is probably the litter of his daughter Julia.  She is rich, my friend; why dost thou not proffer thy suit to her?’

’Why, I had once hoped that Glaucus would have married her.  She does not disguise her attachment; and then, as he gambles freely and with ill-success...’

’The sesterces would have passed to thee, wise Clodius.  A wife is a good thing—­when it belongs to another man!’

‘But,’ continued Clodius, ’as Glaucus is, I understand, to wed the Neapolitan, I think I must even try my chance with the dejected maid.  After all, the lamp of Hymen will be gilt, and the vessel will reconcile one to the odor of the flame.  I shall only protest, my Sallust, against Diomed’s making thee trustee to his daughter’s fortune.’

’Ha! ha! let us within, my comissator; the wine and the garlands wait us.’

Dismissing her slaves to that part of the house set apart for their entertainment, Julia entered the baths with Nydia, and declining the offers of the attendants, passed by a private door into the garden behind.

‘She comes by appointment, be sure,’ said one of the slaves.

‘What is that to thee?’ said a superintendent, sourly; ’she pays for the baths, and does not waste the saffron.  Such appointments are the best part of the trade.  Hark! do you not hear the widow Fulvia clapping her hands?  Run, fool—­run!’

Julia and Nydia, avoiding the more public part of the garden, arrived at the place specified by the Egyptian.  In a small circular plot of grass the stars gleamed upon the statue of Silenus—­the merry god reclined upon a fragment of rock—­the lynx of Bacchus at his feet—­and over his mouth he held, with extended arm, a bunch of grapes, which he seemingly laughed to welcome ere he devoured.

‘I see not the magician,’ said Julia, looking round:  when, as she spoke, the Egyptian slowly emerged from the neighboring foliage, and the light fell palely over his sweeping robes.

’Salve, sweet maiden!—­But ha! whom hast thou here? we must have no companions!’

‘It is but the blind flower-girl, wise magician,’ replied Julia:  ‘herself a Thessalian.’

‘Oh!  Nydia!’ said the Egyptian.  ‘I know her well.’

Nydia drew back and shuddered.

‘Thou hast been at my house, methinks!’ said he, approaching his voice to Nydia’s ear; ’thou knowest the oath!—­Silence and secrecy, now as then, or beware!’

‘Yet,’ he added, musingly to himself, ’why confide more than is necessary, even in the blind—­Julia, canst thou trust thyself alone with me?  Believe me, the magician is less formidable than he seems.’

As he spoke, he gently drew Julia aside.

‘The witch loves not many visitors at once,’ said he:  ’leave Nydia here till your return; she can be of no assistance to us:  and, for protection—­your own beauty suffices—­your own beauty and your own rank; yes, Julia, I know thy name and birth.  Come, trust thyself with me, fair rival of the youngest of the Naiads!’