“We have no father now; we shall never, never see him again.”
The little blind boy felt the dead body with his hands, and asked his sister:
“Will he not wake again to-morrow morning and make you curl his hair, and take me up on his knee?”
“Never, never; he is gone, gone for ever.”
As she spoke Mastor entered the room, sent by his master. Yesterday had he not heard from the overseer of the pavement-workers the comforting tidings that after our grief and suffering here on earth there would be another, beautiful, blissful and eternal life? He went kindly up to Arsinoe and said:
“No, no, my children; when we are dead we become beautiful angels with colored wings, and all who have loved each other here on earth will meet again in the presence of the good God.”
Arsinoe looked at the slave with disapproval.
“What is the use,” she asked, “of cheating the children with silly tales? Their father is gone, quite gone, but we will never, never forget him.”
“Are there any angels with red wings?” asked the youngest little girl.
“Oh! I want to be an angel!” cried Helios, clapping his hands. “And can the angels see?”