“Well, mistress, perhaps you will see our master very soon.  He was due this afternoon or next day from Puteoli, and what is that great cloud of dust I see off there in the distance?  Can’t you make out carriages and horsemen in the midst of it, Hasdrubal?”

Certainly there was a little cavalcade coming up the highway.  Now it was a mere blotch moving in the sun and dust; then clearer; and then out of the cloud of light, flying sand came the clatter of hoofs on the pavement, the whir of wheels, and ahead of the rest of the party two dark Numidian outriders in bright red mantles appeared, pricking along their white African steeds.  Chloe clapped her little hands, steadied her water-pot, and sprang up on the staging of the treadmill beside Mago.

“It is he!” she cried.  “It must be Master Drusus coming back from Athens!” She was a bit excited, for an event like the arrival of a new master was a great occurrence in the monotonous life of a country slave.

The cortege was still a good way off.

“What is Master Drusus like?” asked Chloe “Will he be kind, or will he be always whipping like Mamercus?”

“He was not in charge of the estate,” replied Lais, the older woman, “when he went away to study at Athens[3] a few years ago.  But he was always kind as a lad.  Cappadox, his old body-servant, worshipped him.  I hope he will take the charge of the farm out of the steward’s hands.”

  [3] A few years at the philosophy schools of that famous city were
  almost as common to Roman students and men of culture as “studying
  in Germany” to their American successors.

“Here he comes!” cried Hasdrubal.  “I can see him in the nearest carriage.”  And then all four broke out with their salutation, “Salve!  Salve, Domine!"[4] “Good health to your lordship!”

  [4] Master, “Lord” of slaves and freedmen.

A little way behind the outriders rolled a comfortable, four-wheeled, covered carriage,[5] ornamented with handsome embossed plate-work of bronze.  Two sleek, jet-black steeds were whirling it swiftly onward.  Behind, a couple of equally speedy grey mules were drawing an open wagon loaded with baggage, and containing two smart-looking slave-boys.  But all four persons at the treadmill had fixed their eyes on the other conveyance.  Besides a sturdy driver, whose ponderous hands seemed too powerful to handle the fine leather reins, there were sitting within an elderly, decently dressed man, and at his side another much younger.  The former personage was Pausanias, the freedman and travelling companion[6] of his friend and patron, Quintus Livius Drusus, the “Master Drusus” of whom the slaves had been speaking.  Chloe’s sharp eyes scanned her strange owner very keenly, and the impression he created was not in the least unfavourable.  Drusus was apparently of about two and twenty.  As he was sitting, he appeared a trifle short in stature, with a thick frame, solid shoulders, long arms, and