“But his house will be visited!”
“The bearers have instructions as to what shall be done.”
“This is strange,” said Quincta. “I did not suppose that Largus Litomarus would have shown such consideration. We are not acquainted—indeed we belong to different classes——”
“Yet are ye one in Christ,” said the deacon. “Call in Tarsius, he shall explain the matter. But let him be speedy or the rabble will be on us.”
“They are at the head of the street,” said the slave, “and visit the door of Terentius Cominius.”
“He believes.”
“And he has set out a figure of the Good Shepherd before his door with a lamp. The crowd regards it as a Mercury and has cheered and gone on to the next door.”
Tarsius, thoroughly recovered from his intoxication, was now admitted. He looked none in the face, and stumbled through his tale. Julius Largus Litomarus had bidden him offer his litters; there were curtains closing them, and his servants would convey the ladies to a place of security.
Quincta was too frightened, too impatient to be off, to question the man, nor was the deacon more nice in inquiry, for he also was in a condition of nervous unrest.
The shouts of the mob could be heard.