“Lady Flavia, your wish has always been law to me, and I would rather that anything should happen than that I should lose your favour and patronage, therefore, I am willing to forget what has happened, the more so as I own that I acted wrongly in striking your slave.  I trust that after this apology you will continue to be the kindly friend I have always found you.”

“Certainly, Sempronius,” Flavia said graciously, “and I shall not forget your ready acquiescence in my wishes.”

It was the more easy for Sempronius to yield, inasmuch as Malchus had, after stating that he had been first struck, quietly left the apartment.  For some little time things went on as before.  Malchus was now at home in Rome.  As a slave of one of the most powerful families, as was indicated by the badge he wore on his dress, he was able, when his services were not required, to wander at will in the city.  He made the circuit of the walls, marked the spots which were least frequented and where an escape would be most easily made; and, having selected a spot most remote from the busy quarter of the town, he purchased a long rope, and carrying it there concealed it under some stones close to one of the flights of steps by which access was obtained to the summit of the wall.

The difficulty was not how to escape from Rome, for that, now that he had so much freedom of movement, was easy, but how to proceed when he had once gained the open country.  For himself he had little doubt that he should be able to make his way through the territories of the allies of Rome, but the difficulty of travelling with Clotilde would be much greater.

“Clotilde,” he said one day, “set your wits to work and try and think of some disguise in which you might pass with me.  I have already prepared for getting beyond the walls; but the pursuit after us will be hot, and until we reach the Carthaginian lines every man’s hand will be against us.”

“I have thought of it, Malchus; the only thing that I can see is for me to stain my skin and dye my hair and go as a peasant boy.”

“That is what I, too, have thought of, Clotilde.  The disguise would be a poor one, for the roundness of your arms and the colour of your eyes would betray you at once to any one who looked closely at you.  However, as I can see no better way, I will get the garments and some for myself to match, and some stuff for staining the skin and hair.”

The next day Malchus bought the clothes and dye and managed to bring them into the house unobserved, and to give to Clotilde those intended for her.

The lion, under the influence of the mingled firmness and kindness of Malchus, had now recovered his docility, and followed him about the house like a great dog, sleeping stretched out on a mat by the side of his couch.

Sempronius continued his visits.  Malchus was seldom present when he was with Flavia, but Clotilde was generally in the room.  It was now the height of summer, and her duty was to stand behind her mistress with a large fan, with which she kept up a gentle current of air over Flavia’s head and drove off the troublesome flies.  Sometimes she had to continue doing so for hours, while Flavia chatted with her friends.