But before this Vinicius returned. Petronius heard of his coming, and went to meet him.
“Well? Have ye fixed anything new?” inquired he. “Has Nazarius gone to the prison?”
“He has,” answered the young man, arranging his hair, wet from the rain. “Nazarius went to arrange with the guards, and I have seen Peter, who commanded me to pray and believe.”
“That is well. If all goes favorably, we can bear her away to-morrow night.”
“My manager must be here at daybreak with men.”
“The road is a short one. Now go to rest.”
But Vinicius knelt in his cubiculum and prayed.
At sunrise Niger, the manager, arrived from Corioli, bringing with him, at the order of Vinicius, mules, a litter, and four trusty men selected among slaves from Britain, whom, to save appearances, he had left at an inn in the Subura. Vinicius, who had watched all night, went to meet him. Niger, moved at sight of his youthful master, kissed his hands and eyes, saying,—
“My dear, thou art ill, or else suffering has sucked the blood from thy face, for hardly did I know thee at first.”
Vinicius took him to the interior colonnade, and there admitted him to the secret. Niger listened with fixed attention, and on his dry, sunburnt face great emotion was evident; this he did not even try to master.