“Only look,” interrupted Arsinoe, “how tenderly dame Hannah bends over Selene, and now she is gently kissing her brow.  No mother could tend her own daughter more lovingly.  I have known her for a long time; she is good, very good; it is hardly credible for she is a Christian.”

“The cross up there over the door,” said Pollux “is the token by which these extraordinary people recognize each other.”

“And what is signified by the dove and fish and anchor round it?” asked Arsinoe.

“They are emblems of the mysteries of the Christians,” replied Pollux.  “I do not understand them; the things are wretchedly painted; the adherents of the crucified God contemn all art, and particularly my branch of it, for they hate all images of the gods.”

“And yet among such blasphemers we find such good men; I will go in at once; Hannah is wetting another handkerchief.”

“And how unwearied and kind she looks as she does it; still there is something strange, deserted, and graceless in this large bare room.  I should not like to live there.”

“Have you noticed the faint scent of lavender that comes through the window?”

“Long since—­there your sister is moving and has opened her eyes—­now she has shut them again.”

“Go back into the garden and wait till I come,” Arsinoe commanded him decidedly.  “I will only see how Selene is going on; I will not stop long for my father wishes me to return soon, and no one can nurse her better than Hannah!”

The girl drew her hand out of her lover’s and knocked at the door of the little house; it was opened and the widow herself led Arsinoe to the bedside of her sister.  Pollux at first sat a while on a bench in the garden, but soon sprang up and paced with long steps the path he had previously trodden with Arsinoe.  A stone table across the path, brought him to a stand-still, and he took a fancy for leaping it.  The third time he came up to it he sprang over it with a long jump.  But no sooner had he done the frolicsome deed than he paused, shook his head at himself and muttered to himself:  “Like a boy!”—­He felt indeed like a happy child.  But as he waited he became calmer and graver.  He acknowledged to himself, with sincere thankfulness, that he had now found the ideal woman, of whom he had dreamed in his hours of best inspiration, and that she was his, wholly and alone.  And after all, what was he?  A poor rascal who had many mouths to fill, and was no more than two fingers of his master’s hand.  This must be altered.  He would not reduce his sister’s comforts in any way but he must break with Papias, and stand henceforth on his own feet.  His courage mounted fast, and when at last, Arsinoe returned from her sister, he had resolved that he must first finish Balbilla’s bust with all diligence in his own workshop, and that then he would model his beloved; these two female heads he could not fail in.  Caesar must see them, they must be exhibited, and already in his mind’s eye, he saw himself refusing order after order, and accepting only the most splendid where all were good.