longer than was necessary, begged his master, with all possible politeness, to let him go now, and to settle the matter with him to-morrow after he had discussed it with the Roman, from whom he might certainly demand any compensation he chose.  But when Papias interrupted him again and again, and obstinately insisted on the immediate restoration of his property, the artist whose blood was easily heated, grew angry and replied to the attacks and questions of the older man with vehement response.

One angry word led to another, and at last Papias hinted of persons who took possession of other person’s silver goods, and when Pollux retorted that he knew of some who could put forward the works of others as their own, the master struck his fist upon the table, and going towards the door he cried out, as soon as he was at a safe distance from the furious lad’s powerful fists: 

“Thief!  I will show you how fellows like you are dealt with in Alexandria.”

Pollux turned white with rage, and rushed upon Papias, who fled, and before Pollux could reach him he had taken refuge behind the two guards sent by the magistrate, and who were waiting in the antechamber.

“Seize the thief!” he cried.  “Hold the villain who stole my silver quiver and now raises his hand against his master.  Bind him, fetter him, carry him off to prison.”

Pollux did not know what had come upon him; he stood like a bear that has been surrounded by hunters; doubtful but at bay.  Should he fling himself upon his pursuers and fell them to the earth? should he passively await impending fate?

He knew every stone in his master’s house; the anteroom in which he stood, and indeed the whole building was on the ground floor.  In the minute while the guards were approaching and his master was giving the order to the lictor, his eye fell on a window which looked out upon the street, and possessed only by the single thought of defending his liberty and returning quickly to Arsinoe he leaped out of the opening which promised safety and into the street below.

“Thief—­stop thief!” he heard as he flew on with long strides; and like the pelting of rain driven by all the four winds came from all sides the senseless, odious, horrible cry:  “Stop thief!—­stop thief!” it seemed to deprive him of his senses.

But the passionate cry of his heart:  “To Lochias, to Arsinoe! keep free, save your liberty if only to be of use at Lochias!” drowned the shouts of his pursuers and urged him through the streets that led to the old palace,

On he went faster and farther, each step a leap; the briny breeze from the sea already fanned his glowing cheeks and the narrow empty street yonder he well knew led to the quay by the King’s harbor, where he could hide from his pursuers among the tall piles of wood.  He was just turning the corner into the alley when an Egyptian ox-driver threw his goad between his legs; he stumbled, fell to the ground, and instantly felt that a dog which had rushed upon him was tearing the chiton he wore, while he was seized by a number of men.  An hour later and he found himself in prison, bitten, beaten, and bound among a crew of malefactors and real thieves.