‘Kind Sosia, chide me not—­I cannot endure to be so long alone,’ answered Nydia; ’the solitude appals me.  Sit with me, I pray, a little while.  Nay, fear not that I should attempt to escape; place thy seat before the door.  Keep thine eye on me—­I will not stir from this spot.’

Sosia, who was a considerable gossip himself, was moved by this address.  He pitied one who had nobody to talk with—­it was his case too; he pitied—­and resolved to relieve himself.  He took the hint of Nydia, placed a stool before the door, leant his back against it, and replied: 

’I am sure I do not wish to be churlish; and so far as a little innocent chat goes, I have no objection to indulge you.  But mind, no tricks—­no more conjuring!’

‘No, no; tell me, dear Sosia, what is the hour?’

‘It is already evening—­the goats are going home.’

‘O gods! how went the trial’

‘Both condemned.’

Nydia repressed the shriek.  ’Well—­well, I thought it would be so.  When do they suffer?’

’To-morrow, in the amphitheatre.  If it were not for thee, little wretch, I should be allowed to go with the rest and see it.’

Nydia leant back for some moments.  Nature could endure no more—­she had fainted away.  But Sosia did not perceive it, for it was the dusk of eve, and he was full of his own privations.  He went on lamenting the loss of so delightful a show, and accusing the injustice of Arbaces for singling him out from all his fellows to be converted into a gaoler; and ere he had half finished, Nydia, with a deep sigh, recovered the sense of life.

’Thou sighest, blind one, at my loss!  Well, that is some comfort.  So long as you acknowledge how much you cost me, I will endeavor not to grumble.  It is hard to be ill-treated, and yet not pitied.’

’Sosia, how much dost thou require to make up the purchase of thy freedom?’

‘How much?  Why, about two thousand sesterces.’

’The gods be praised! not more?  Seest thou these bracelets and this chain?  They are well worth double that sum.  I will give them thee if...’

’Tempt me not:  I cannot release thee.  Arbaces is a severe and awful master.  Who knows but I might feed the fishes of the Sarnus Alas! all the sesterces in the world would not buy me back into life.  Better a live dog than a dead lion.’

’Sosia, thy freedom!  Think well!  If thou wilt let me out only for one little hour!—­let me out at midnight—­I will return ere to-morrow’s dawn; nay, thou canst go with me.’

‘No,’ said Sosia, sturdily, ’a slave once disobeyed Arbaces, and he was never more heard of.’

‘But the law gives a master no power over the life of a slave.’

’The law is very obliging, but more polite than efficient.  I know that Arbaces always gets the law on his side.  Besides, if I am once dead, what law can bring me to life again!’

Nydia wrung her hands.  ‘Is there no hope, then?’ said she, convulsively.