Roxana, whom you so strongly resemble! To be sure I might find myself
the gladiator Tarautas. But, then, who would you be? And your stalwart
father, who stands there defying the rain, certainly does not look like a
vision, and this storm is not favorable to philosophizing."

He kissed his hand to her, had a dry caracalla thrown over his shoulders,
ordered Theocritus to take care of Tarautas and carry him a purse of gold
--which he handed to the favorite--and then, pulling the hood over his
head, led the way, followed by his impatient courtiers; but not till he
had answered Heron, who had come forward to ask him what he thought of
the mechanical arts of the Alexandrians, desiring him to postpone that
matter till the morrow.

The storm had silenced the music. Only a few stanch trumpeters had
remained in their places; and when they saw by the lanterns that Caesar
had left the Circus, they sounded a fanfare after him, which followed the
ruler of the world with a dull, hoarse echo.

Outside, the streets were still crowded with people pouring out of the
amphitheatre. Those of the commoner sort sought shelter under the
archways of the building, or else hurried boldly home through the rain.
Heron stood waiting at the entrance for his daughter, though the purple-
hemmed toga was wet, through and through. But she had, in fact, hurried
out while he was pushing forward to speak to Caesar, and in his
excitement overlooked everything else. The behavior of his fellow-
citizens had annoyed him, and he had an obscure impression that it would
be a blunder to claim Caesar's approval of anything they had done; still,
he had not self-control enough to suppress the question which had
fluttered on his lips all through the performance. At last, in high
dudgeon at the inconsiderateness of young people and at the rebuff he had