CHAPTER IX.

Aye, truly! Sabina's advent had chased all good spirits from the palace
at Lochias.

The Emperor's commands had come upon the peaceful little house as a
whirlwind comes on a heap of leaves. The inhabitants were not even
allowed time fully to realize their misfortune, for instead of bewailing
themselves all they could do was to act with circumspection. The tables,
seats, cushions, beds and lutes, the baskets, plants, and bird-cages, the
kitchen utensils and the trunks with their clothes were all piled in
confusion in the courtyard, and Doris was employing the slaves appointed
by Mastor in the task of emptying the house, as briskly and carefully as
though it was nothing more than a move from one house to another. A ray
of the sunny brightness of her nature once more sparkled in her eyes
since she had been able to say to herself that all that happened to her
and hers was one of the things inevitable, and that it was more to the
purpose to think of the future than of the past. The old woman was quite
herself again over the work, and as she looked at Euphorion, who sat
quite crushed on his couch with his eyes fixed on the ground, she cried
out to him:

"After bad times, come good ones! only let us keep from making ourselves
miserable. We have done nothing wrong, and so long as we do not think
ourselves wretched, we are not so. Only, hold up your head!

"Up, old man, up! Go at once to Diotima and tell her that we beg her to
give us hospitality for a few days, and house-room for our chattels."