the same, and in a few minutes their conversation had turned, as usual,
to the subject of horses. Marcus was full of praises of the stallions
his brother had bred for him, and which he had ridden that very day round
the Myssa--[The Myssa was the Meta, or turning-post]--in the Hippodrome,
and his brother added with no small complacency:

"They were all bred from the same sire and from the choicest mares. I
broke them in myself, and I only wish.... But why did you not come to
the stables this morning?"

"I could not," replied Marcus coloring slightly. Then we will go
to-morrow to Nicopolis and I will show you how to get Megaera past the
Taraxippios."--[The terror of the horses.]

"To-morrow?" said Marcus somewhat embarrassed. "In the morning I must
go to see Eusebius and then. . . ."

"Well, then?"

"Then I must--I mean I should like. . . ."

"What?"

"Well, to be sure I might, all the same.--But no, it is not to be done--I
have. . . ."

"What, what?" cried Demetrius with increasing impatience: "My time is
limited and if you start the horses without knowing my way of managing
them they will certainly not do their best. As soon as the market
begins to fill we will set out. We shall need a few hours for the