She looked up at him with happy content, but he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed it to them long and fervently.  Then he let it go again and said, with a sigh that came up from the bottom of his heart: 

“Oh Arsinoe, my sweet Arsinoe, how I love you!”

As the words came softly yet hotly from his lips the girl clasped his arm closely to her bosom, leaned her head on his shoulder, looked up at him with a wide-eyed, tender gaze, and said softly: 

“Oh Pollux, I am so happy, the world is so good!”

“Nay, I could hate it!” cried the sculptor.  “To hear this—­and to have an old mother wide awake at home, and to be obliged to walk steadily on in a street crowded with men—­it is unendurable!  I shall not hold out much longer—­sweetest of girls—­here it is quiet and dark.”

Yes, in a little nook made by two contiguous houses, and into which Pollux drew Arsinoe, it was pitch dark, as he hastily pressed his first kiss on her innocent lips; but in their hearts it was light-radiant sunshine.

She had thrown her arms round his neck and would willingly have clung to him till day should end; but they heard the approach of a noisy procession of slaves.  These unfortunate creatures began soon after midnight singing and shouting so as to avail themselves to the extremist limit of the holiday, which released them for a short time from their tasks and duties; Pollux knew well how unbounded the license of their pleasures could be, and as he walked on with Arsinoe he enjoined her to keep with him as close as possible to the houses.

“How jolly they are!” he said pointing to the merry-makers.  “Their masters will wait on themselves a little to-day, and the best day in the year is just beginning for them, but for us the best day in all our lives.”

“Yes, yes,” cried Arsinoe, and she clasped his strong arm with both her hands.

Then they both laughed merrily, for Pollux had noticed that the old slave-woman had gone on past them with her head sunk on her breast, and was following another pair.

“I will call her,” Arsinoe said.

“No, no, let her be,” said the artist.  “The couple in front certainly require her protection more than we do.”

“But how could she possibly mistake that little man for you?” laughed Arsinoe.

“I wish I were a little smaller,” replied Pollux with a sigh.  “Only picture to yourself the vast amount of burning love and tormenting longing that can be contained in so large a body as mine!” She slapped him on the arm, and to punish her he hastily pressed his lips on her forehead.

“Don’t—­think of the people,” she said reprovingly, but he gaily answered: 

“It is not a misfortune to be envied.”

Here the streets came to an end, and they found themselves in front of the garden belonging to Pudeus’ widow; Pollux knew it, for Paulina who owned it was the sister of Pontius, the architect, who himself owned a magnificent house in the city.  But could it be possible?  Had invisible hands brought them here already?  The gate of the enclosure was locked.  Pollux roused a porter, told him what he wanted, and was conducted by him with Arsinoe to apart of the grounds where a bright light shone out from dame Hannah’s little abode, for he had had instructions to admit the sick girl’s friends even during the night.