CHAPTER XVI.
IN THE HOUSE OF THE ACTOR.
Hardly had Eboracus conveyed Domitia out of the Forum into a place of safety, than a rush of people down the street threatened to drive him back in the direction whence he had come. The drifting mob, as it cascaded down, cried: “The Prætorians are coming from their camp!”
It was so. Down the hill by the Tiburtine way marched a compact body of soldiery.
The danger was imminent; Eboracus and his young charge were between two masses of military, entangled in a seething mob of frightened people, mostly of the lowest class.
“My lady!” said the slave. “There is but one thing to be done.”
He drew her to a door, knocked, and when a voice asked who demanded admittance, answered,
“Open speedily—Paris!”
The door was furtively unbarred and opened sufficiently to admit the slave and Domitia, and then hastily bolted and locked again.
“Excuse me, dear mistress,” said Eboracus. “I could do no other. In this insula live the actor Paris and Glyceria. They were both slaves in your household, but were given their freedom by your father, my late master, when he went to the East. They will place themselves at your service, and offer you shelter in their humble dwelling, the first flat on the right.”