and kindly, and Mago saluted profoundly, and replied:--

"We are the slaves of the most noble Quintus Livius Drusus, who owns
this estate."

"I am he," replied the young man, smiling. "The day is hot. It grows
late. You have toiled enough. Go you all and rest. Here, Pausanias,
give them each a philippus,[9] with which to remember my home-coming!"

[9] A Greek gold piece worth about $3.60 at the time of the story.
At this time Rome coined little gold.

"_Eu! Eu! Io!_[10] _Domine!_" cried the slaves, giving vent to their
delight. And Chloë whispered to Laïs: "You were right. The new master
will be kind. There will not be so many whippings."

[10] Good! Good! Hurrah!

But while Pausanias was fumbling in the money-bags, a new instance of
the generosity of Drusus was presented. Down a by-path in the field
filed a sorrowful company; a long row of slaves in fetters, bound
together by a band and chain round the waist of each. They were a
disreputable enough gang of unkempt, unshaven, half-clothed wretches:
Gauls and Germans with fair hair and giant physiques; dark-haired
Syrians; black-skinned Africans,--all panting and groaning, clanking
their chains, and cursing softly at the two sullen overseers, who,
with heavy-loaded whips, were literally driving them down into the
road.

Again Drusus spoke.