An aged priest on the superior's right, laid a trembling hand on his arm.
"Is it wise?" he asked, gently. "If thou frightenest the slave, he will not give thee correct information."
"Thou art late to-night, father," said Lidia, reaching up her hardened little hands to caress affectionately his weatherworn cheek. "I was just going to bed."
"I was late because I was watching him," Lucius nodded his head toward the door.
"Who? the master? Surely thou wouldst not."
"Be not so hasty, Lidia. It was not the master, but Alyrus."
"Oh! he is worth watching," responded wise and observant Lidia.
She was little thing, in spite of her twenty years, with a small face, old in anxiety, but sparkling with vivacity. Lucius had said sometimes that her eyes talked, they varied so with her different moods. She petted and humored her father in an amusingly maternal way, and carried the cares of his poor home in her heart.
"I believe it. To-night, he has been for an hour at the temple in the
Forum, and it bodes little good. What has he to do with the priests of
Jupiter? I trust not one of them, not one. It means some evil to this
dwelling."
Lidia's eyes grew anxious.