’Yes:  some say Apaecides refused the alliance.  It might have been a sudden quarrel.  Glaucus was evidently drunk—­nay, so much so as to have been quite insensible when taken up, and I hear is still delirious—­whether with wine, terror, remorse, the Furies, or the Bacchanals, I cannot say.’

‘Poor fellow!—­he has good counsel?’

’The best—­Caius Pollio, an eloquent fellow enough.  Pollio has been hiring all the poor gentlemen and well-born spendthrifts of Pompeii to dress shabbily and sneak about, swearing their friendship to Glaucus (who would not have spoken to them to be made emperor!—­I will do him justice, he was a gentleman in his choice of acquaintance), and trying to melt the stony citizens into pity.  But it will not do; Isis is mightily popular just at this moment.’

’And, by-the-by, I have some merchandise at Alexandria.  Yes, Isis ought to be protected.’

’True; so farewell, old gentleman:  we shall meet soon; if not, we must have a friendly bet at the Amphitheatre.  All my calculations are confounded by this cursed misfortune of Glaucus!  He had bet on Lydon the gladiator; I must make up my tablets elsewhere.  Vale!’

Leaving the less active Diomed to regain his villa, Clodius strode on, humming a Greek air, and perfuming the night with the odorous that steamed from his snowy garments and flowing locks.

‘If,’ thought he, ’Glaucus feed the lion, Julia will no longer have a person to love better than me; she will certainly doat on me—­and so, I suppose, I must marry.  By the gods! the twelve lines begin to fail—­men look suspiciously at my hand when it rattles the dice.  That infernal Sallust insinuates cheating; and if it be discovered that the ivory is clogged, why farewell to the merry supper and the perfumed billet—­Clodius is undone!  Better marry, then, while I may, renounce gaming, and push my fortune (or rather the gentle Julia’s) at the imperial court.’

Thus muttering the schemes of his ambition, if by that high name the projects of Clodius may be called, the gamester found himself suddenly accosted; he turned and beheld the dark brow of Arbaces.

’Hail, noble Clodius! pardon my interruption; and inform me, I pray you, which is the house of Sallust?’

’It is but a few yards hence, wise Arbaces.  But does Sallust entertain to-night?’

‘I know not,’ answered the Egyptian; ’nor am I, perhaps, one of those whom he would seek as a boon companion.  But thou knowest that his house holds the person of Glaucus, the murderer.’

’Ay! he, good-hearted epicure, believes in the Greek’s innocence!  You remind me that he has become his surety; and, therefore, till the trial, is responsible for his appearance.’  Well, Sallust’s house is better than a prison, especially that wretched hole in the forum.  But for what can you seek Glaucus?’

’Why, noble Clodius, if we could save him from execution it would be well.  The condemnation of the rich is a blow upon society itself.  I should like to confer with him—­for I hear he has recovered his senses—­and ascertain the motives of his crime; they may be so extenuating as to plead in his defence.’