He and the painter were now in hiding, and would remain in safety, come what might, in the cellar at the Cock, till the coast was clear again.

The tavern-keeper strongly advised no one to go meddling with his wine-skins and jars.
"Much less that Egyptian dog!" cried his wife, doubling her fist as though the hated mischief-maker stood before her already.
"Poor, helpless lamb!" she murmured to herself, as she looked compassionately at the fragile, town-bred girl, who stood gazing at the ground as if she had been struck by lightning.

She remembered, too, how hard life had seemed to her in her own young days, and glanced with pride at her brawny arms, which were able indeed to work and manage.
But what now?
The drooping flower suddenly raised her head, as if moved by a spring, exclaiming: "Thank you heartily, thank you! But that will never do.

If Zminis searches your premises he will certainly go into the cellar; for what can he not do in Caesar's name?
I will not part from my brother." "Then you, too, are a welcome guest at the Cock," interrupted the woman, and her husband bowed low, assuring her that the Cock was as much her house as it was his.
But the helpless town-bred damsel declined this friendly invitation; for her shrewd little head had devised another plan for saving her brother, though the tavern-keepers, to whom she confided it in a whisper, laughed and shook their heads over it.

Diodoros was waiting outside in anxious impatience; he loved her, and he was her brother's best friend.