Grove, I think, as we go to sepulchres with our dead—he went to bury it."
"That were well, if so," Simonides said, in a low voice; then louder, "Malluch, the curse of the time is prodigality. The poor make themselves poorer as apes of the rich, and the merely rich carry themselves like princes. Saw you signs of the weakness in the youth? Did he display moneys—coin of Rome or Israel?"
"None, none, good master."
"Surely, Malluch, where there are so many inducements to folly—so much, I mean, to eat and drink—surely he made you generous offer of some sort. His age, if nothing more, would warrant that much."
"He neither ate nor drank in my company."
"In what he said or did, Malluch, could you in anywise detect his master-idea? You know they peep through cracks close enough to stop the wind."
"Give me to understand you," said Malluch, in doubt.
"Well, you know we nor speak nor act, much less decide grave questions concerning ourselves, except as we be driven by a motive. In that respect, what made you of him?"
"As to that, Master Simonides, I can answer with much assurance. He is devoted to finding his mother and sister that first. Then he has a grievance against Rome; and as the Messala of whom I told you had something to do with the wrong, the great present object is to humiliate him. The meeting at the fountain furnished an opportunity, but it was put aside as not sufficiently public."
"The Messala is influential," said Simonides, thoughtfully.
"Yes; but the next meeting will be in the Circus."
Well—and then?"
"The son of Arrius will win."
"How know you?"
Malluch smiled.
"I am judging by what he says."
"Is that all?"
"No; there is a much better sign—his spirit."
"Ay; but, Malluch, his idea of vengeance—what is
