“I—­great Caesar?  I have attempted—­” began the Ligurian, while his pinched features turned an ashy grey.  “You accused the steward of a dishonorable trick,” replied Hadrian.  “But I know men well, and I know that no thief ever yet died of being called a scoundrel.  It is only undeserved disgrace that can cost a man’s life.”

“Keraunus was full-blooded, and the shock when he learnt that you were Caesar—­”

“That shock accelerated the end no doubt,” interrupted the monarch, “but the mosaic in the steward’s room is worth a million of sesterces, and now I have seen enough to be quite sure that you are not the man to save your money when a work like that mosaic is offered you for sale—­be the circumstances what they may.  If I see the case rightly, it was Keraunus who refused your demand that he should resign to you the treasure in his charge.  Certainly, that was the case exactly!  Now, leave me.  I wish to be alone.”

Gabinius retired with many bows, walking backwards to the door, and then turned his back on the palace of Lochias muttering many impotent curses as he went.

The steward’s new ‘body-servant,’ the old black woman, Mastor, the tailor and his slave, helped Arsinoe to carry her father’s lifeless body and lay it on a couch, and the slave closed his eyes.  He was dead—­so each told the despairing girl, but she would not, could not believe it.  As soon as she was alone with the old negress and the dead, she lifted up his heavy, clumsy arm, and as soon as she let go her hold it fell by his side like lead.  She lifted the cloth from the dead man’s face, but she flung it over him again at once, for death had drawn his features.  Then she kissed his cold hand and brought the children in and made them do the same, and said sobbing: 

“We have no father now; we shall never, never see him again.”

The little blind boy felt the dead body with his hands, and asked his sister: 

“Will he not wake again to-morrow morning and make you curl his hair, and take me up on his knee?”

“Never, never; he is gone, gone for ever.”

As she spoke Mastor entered the room, sent by his master.  Yesterday had he not heard from the overseer of the pavement-workers the comforting tidings that after our grief and suffering here on earth there would be another, beautiful, blissful and eternal life?  He went kindly up to Arsinoe and said: 

“No, no, my children; when we are dead we become beautiful angels with colored wings, and all who have loved each other here on earth will meet again in the presence of the good God.”

Arsinoe looked at the slave with disapproval.

“What is the use,” she asked, “of cheating the children with silly tales?  Their father is gone, quite gone, but we will never, never forget him.”

“Are there any angels with red wings?” asked the youngest little girl.

“Oh!  I want to be an angel!” cried Helios, clapping his hands.  “And can the angels see?”