“To Orcus and Erebus with all the tragedy and comedy that ever was spouted!” exclaimed Aristo. “Can you do nothing for me? Can’t you give me a crumb of consolation or sympathy, encouragement or suggestion? I am a stranger in the country, and so is this dear sister of mine, whom I was so proud of; and who has been so good, and kind, and gentle, and sweet. She loved me so much, she never grudged me anything; she let me do just what I would with her. Come here, go there,—it was just as I would. There we were, two orphans together, ten years since, when I was double her age. She wished to stay in Greece; but she came to this detestable Africa all for me. She would be gay and bright when I would have her so. She had no will of her own; and she set her heart upon nothing, and was pleased anywhere. She had not an enemy in the world. I protest she is worth all the gods and goddesses that ever were hatched! And here, in this ill-omened Africa, the evil eye has looked at her, and she thinks herself a Christian, when she is just as much a hippogriff, or a chimæra.”

“Well, but, Aristo,” said Jucundus, “I was going to tell you who is at the bottom of it all. Callista’s mad; Agellius is mad; Juba is mad; and Strabo was mad;—but it was his wife, old Gurta, that drove him mad;—and there, I think, is the beginning of our troubles.——Come in! come in, Cornelius!” he cried, seeing his Roman friend outside, and relapsing for the moment into his lugubrious tone; “Come in, Cornelius, and give us some comfort, if you can. Well, this is like a friend! I know if you can help me, you will.”

Cornelius answered that he was going back to Carthage in a day or two, and came to embrace him, and had hoped to have a parting supper before he went.

“That’s kind!” answered Jucundus: “but first tell me all about this dreadful affair; for you are in the secrets of the Capitol. Have they any clue what has become of my poor Agellius?”

Cornelius had not heard of the young man’s troubles, and was full of consternation at the news.

“What! Agellius really a Christian?” he said, “and at such a moment? Why, I thought you talked of some young lady who was to keep him in order?”

“She’s a Christian too,” replied Jucundus; and a silence ensued. “It’s a bad world!” he continued. “She’s imprisoned by the Triumviri. What will be the end of it?”

Cornelius shook his head, and looked mysterious.

“You don’t mean it?” said Jucundus. “Not anything so dreadful, I do trust, Cornelius. Not the stake?”

Cornelius still looked gloomy and pompous.

“Nothing in the way of torture?” he went on; “not the rack, or the pitchfork?”