“Write that a new gate-keeper is to be found for this palace.  Euphorion, the old one, is to have his pay continued to him, and half a talent is to be paid to him at the prefect’s office.  Good—­Let the man have at once whatever is necessary; in an hour neither he nor his are to be found in Lochias.  Henceforth no one is to mention them to me again, nor to bring me any petition from them.  Their whole race may join the rest of the dead.”

Phlegon bowed and said: 

“Gabinius, the curiosity-dealer, waits outside.”

“He comes at an appropriate moment,” cried the Emperor.  “After all these vexations it will do me good to hear about beautiful things.”

CHAPTER IX.

Aye, truly!  Sabina’s advent had chased all good spirits from the palace at Lochias.

The Emperor’s commands had come upon the peaceful little house as a whirlwind comes on a heap of leaves.  The inhabitants were not even allowed time fully to realize their misfortune, for instead of bewailing themselves all they could do was to act with circumspection.  The tables, seats, cushions, beds and lutes, the baskets, plants, and bird-cages, the kitchen utensils and the trunks with their clothes were all piled in confusion in the courtyard, and Doris was employing the slaves appointed by Mastor in the task of emptying the house, as briskly and carefully as though it was nothing more than a move from one house to another.  A ray of the sunny brightness of her nature once more sparkled in her eyes since she had been able to say to herself that all that happened to her and hers was one of the things inevitable, and that it was more to the purpose to think of the future than of the past.  The old woman was quite herself again over the work, and as she looked at Euphorion, who sat quite crushed on his couch with his eyes fixed on the ground, she cried out to him: 

“After bad times, come good ones! only let us keep from making ourselves miserable.  We have done nothing wrong, and so long as we do not think ourselves wretched, we are not so.  Only, hold up your head!

“Up, old man, up!  Go at once to Diotima and tell her that we beg her to give us hospitality for a few days, and house-room for our chattels.”

“And if Caesar does not keep his word?” asked Euphorion gloomily.  “What sort of a life shall we live then?”

“A bad one-a dog’s life; and for that very reason it is wiser to enjoy now what we still possess.  A cup of wine, Pollux, for me and your father.  But there must be no water in it to-day.”

“I cannot drink,” sighed Euphorion.

“Then I will drink your share and my own too.”  Nay-nay, mother,” remonstrated Pollux.

“Well put some water in, lad, just a little water, only do not make such a pitiful face.  Is that the way a young fellow should look who has his art, and plenty of strength in his hands, and the sweetest of sweethearts in his heart?”