A Friend of Cæsar

A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic

Time, 50-47 B. C. 

By William Stearns Davis

 "Others better may mould the life-breathing brass of the image, And living features, I ween, draw from the marble, and better Argue their cause in the court; may mete out the span of the heavens, Mark out the bounds of the poles, and name all the stars in their turnings. _Thine_ 'tis the peoples to rule with dominion--this, Roman, remember!-- These for thee are the arts, to hand down the laws of the treaty, The weak in mercy to spare, to fling from their high seats the haughty. "

--VERGIL, _Æn. _ vi. 847-858. 

New YorkGrosset & Dunlap Publishers1900

To My Father

William Vail Wilson Davis

Who Has Taught Me MoreThan All My Books

Preface

If this book serves to show that Classical Life presented many phasesakin to our own, it will not have been written in vain. 

After the book was planned and in part written, it was discovered thatArchdeacon Farrar had in his story of "Darkness and Dawn" a scene, "Onesimus and the Vestal, " which corresponds very closely to the scene, "Agias and the Vestal, " in this book; but the latter incident was toocharacteristically Roman not to risk repetition. If it is asked why sucha book as this is desirable after those noble fictions, "Darkness andDawn" and "Quo Vadis, " the reply must be that these books necessarilytake and interpret the Christian point of view. And they do well; butthe Pagan point of view still needs its interpretation, at least as ahelp to an easy apprehension of the life and literature of the great ageof the Fall of the Roman Republic. This is the aim of "A Friend ofCæsar. " The Age of Cæsar prepared the way for the Age of Nero, whenChristianity could find a world in a state of such culture, unity, andsocial stability that it could win an adequate and abiding triumph. 

Great care has been taken to keep to strict historical probability; butin one scene, the "Expulsion of the Tribunes, " there is such a confusionof accounts in the authorities themselves that I have taken some slightliberties. 

W. S. D. 

Harvard University, January 16, 1900. 

Contents

Chapter Page

 I. Præneste 1

 II. The Upper Walks of Society 21

 III. The Privilege of a Vestal 37

 IV. Lucius Ahenobarbus Airs His Grievance 50

 V. A Very Old Problem 73

 VI. Pompeius Magnus 102

 VII. Agias's Adventure 117

 VIII. "When Greek Meets Greek" 146

 IX. How Gabinius Met with a Rebuff 159

 X. Mamercus Guards the Door 172

 XI. The Great Proconsul 198

 XII. Pratinas Meets Ill-Fortune 217

 XIII. What Befell at Baiæ 241

 XIV. The New Consuls 262

 XV. The Seventh of January 277

 XVI. The Rubicon 302

 XVII. The Profitable Career of Gabinius 329

XVIII. How Pompeius Stamped with His Feet 334

 XIX. The Hospitality of Demetrius 364

 XX. Cleopatra 387

 XXI. How Ulamhala's Words Came True 409

 XXII. The End of the Magnus 433

XXIII. Bitterness and Joy 448

 XXIV. Battling for Life 464

 XXV. Calm after Storm 496

Chapter I

Præneste

I

It was the Roman month of September, seven hundred and four years afterRomulus--so tradition ran--founded the little village by the Tiber whichwas to become "Mother of Nations, " "Centre of the World, " "ImperialRome. " To state the time according to modern standards it was July, fifty years before the beginning of the Christian Era. The fierceItalian sun was pouring down over the tilled fields and stretches ofwoodland and grazing country that made up the landscape, and theatmosphere was almost aglow with the heat. The dust lay thick on thepavement of the highway, and rose in dense, stifling clouds, as a mule, laden with farm produce and driven by a burly countryman, trudgedreluctantly along. 

Yet, though the scene suggested the heat of midsummer, it was far frombeing unrefreshing, especially to the eyes of one newly come. For thisspot was near "cool Præneste, " one of the favourite resorts of Latium tothe wealthy, invalid, or indolent of Rome, who shunned the excessiveheat of the capital. And they were wise in their choice; for Præneste, with its citadel, which rose twelve hundred feet over the adjoiningcountry, commanded in its ample sweep both the views and the breezes ofthe whole wide-spreading Campagna. Here, clustering round the hill onwhich stood the far-famed "Temple of Fortune, " lay the old Latin town ofthe Prænestians; a little farther westward was the settlement foundedsome thirty odd years before by Sulla as a colony. Farther out, andstretching off into the open country, lay the farmhouses and villas, gardens and orchards, where splendid nuts and roses, and also wine, grewin abundant measure. 

A little stream ran close to the highway, and here an irrigatingmachine[1] was raising water for the fields. Two men stood on thetreadmill beside the large-bucketed wheel, and as they continued theirendless walk the water dashed up into the trough and went splashing downthe ditches into the thirsty gardens. The workers were tall, bronze-skinned Libyans, who were stripped to the waist, showing theirsplendid chests and rippling muscles. Beside the trough had just cometwo women, by their coarse and unpretentious dress evidently slaves, bearing large earthen water-pots which they were about to fill. One ofthe women was old, and bore on her face all the marks which a life ofhard manual toil usually leaves behind it; the other young, with aclear, smooth complexion and a rather delicate Greek profile. TheLibyans stopped their monotonous trudge, evidently glad to have someexcuse for a respite from their exertions. 

 [1] Water columbarium. 

"Ah, ha! Chloë, " cried one of them, "how would you like it, with yourpretty little feet, to be plodding at this mill all the day? Thank theGods, the sun will set before a great while. The day has been hot asthe lap of an image of Moloch!"[2]

 [2] The Phoenician god, also worshipped in North Africa, in whose idol was built a fire to consume human sacrifices. 

"Well, Hasdrubal, " said Chloë, the younger woman, with a pert toss ofher head, "if my feet were as large as yours, and my skin as black andthick, I should not care to complain if I had to work a little now andthen. "

"Oh! of course, " retorted Hasdrubal, a little nettled. "Your ladyshipis too refined, too handsome, to reflect that people with black skinsas well as white may get heated and weary. Wait five and twenty years, till your cheeks are a bit withered, and see if Master Drusus doesn'tgive you enough to make you tired from morning till night. "

"You rude fellow, " cried Chloë, pouting with vexation, "I will notspeak to you again. If Master Drusus were here, I would complain ofyou to him. I have heard that he is not the kind of a master to let apoor maid of his be insulted. "

"Oh, be still, you hussy!" said the elder woman, who felt that a lifeof labour had spoiled what might have been quite the equal of Chloë'sgood looks. "What do you know of Master Drusus? He has been in Athensever since you were bought. I'll make Mamercus, the steward, believeyou ought to be whipped. "

What tart answer Chloë might have had on the end of her tongue willnever be known; for at this moment Mago, the other Libyan, glanced upthe road, and cried:--

"Well, mistress, perhaps you will see our master very soon. He was duethis afternoon or next day from Puteoli, and what is that great cloudof dust I see off there in the distance? Can't you make out carriagesand horsemen in the midst of it, Hasdrubal?"

Certainly there was a little cavalcade coming up the highway. Now itwas a mere blotch moving in the sun and dust; then clearer; and thenout of the cloud of light, flying sand came the clatter of hoofs onthe pavement, the whir of wheels, and ahead of the rest of the partytwo dark Numidian outriders in bright red mantles appeared, prickingalong their white African steeds. Chloë clapped her little hands, steadied her water-pot, and sprang up on the staging of the treadmillbeside Mago. 

"It is he!" she cried. "It must be Master Drusus coming back fromAthens!" She was a bit excited, for an event like the arrival of a newmaster was a great occurrence in the monotonous life of a countryslave. 

The cortège was still a good way off. 

"What is Master Drusus like?" asked Chloë "Will he be kind, or will hebe always whipping like Mamercus?"

"He was not in charge of the estate, " replied Laïs, the older woman, "when he went away to study at Athens[3] a few years ago. But he wasalways kind as a lad. Cappadox, his old body-servant, worshipped him. I hope he will take the charge of the farm out of the steward's hands. "

 [3] A few years at the philosophy schools of that famous city were almost as common to Roman students and men of culture as "studying in Germany" to their American successors. 

"Here he comes!" cried Hasdrubal. "I can see him in the nearestcarriage. " And then all four broke out with their salutation, "_Salve!Salve, Domine!_"[4] "Good health to your lordship!"

 [4] Master, "Lord" of slaves and freedmen. 

A little way behind the outriders rolled a comfortable, four-wheeled, covered carriage, [5] ornamented with handsome embossed plate-work ofbronze. Two sleek, jet-black steeds were whirling it swiftly onward. Behind, a couple of equally speedy grey mules were drawing an openwagon loaded with baggage, and containing two smart-lookingslave-boys. But all four persons at the treadmill had fixed their eyeson the other conveyance. Besides a sturdy driver, whose ponderoushands seemed too powerful to handle the fine leather reins, there weresitting within an elderly, decently dressed man, and at his sideanother much younger. The former personage was Pausanias, the freedmanand travelling companion[6] of his friend and patron, Quintus LiviusDrusus, the "Master Drusus" of whom the slaves had been speaking. Chloë's sharp eyes scanned her strange owner very keenly, and theimpression he created was not in the least unfavourable. Drusus wasapparently of about two and twenty. As he was sitting, he appeared atrifle short in stature, with a thick frame, solid shoulders, longarms, and large hands. His face was distinctively Roman. The featureswere a little irregular, though not to an unpleasant extent. Theprofile was aquiline. His eyes were brown and piercing, turningperpetually this way and that, to grasp every detail of the scenearound. His dark, reddish hair was clipped close, and his chin wassmooth shaven and decidedly firm--stern, even, the face might havebeen called, except for the relief afforded by a delicately curvedmouth--not weak, but affable and ingenuous. Drusus wore a darktravelling cloak, [7] and from underneath it peeped his tunic, with itsstripe of narrow purple--the badge of the Roman equestrian order. [8]On his finger was another emblem of nobility--a large, plain, goldring, conspicuous among several other rings with costly settings. 

 [5] _Rheda_. 

 [6] Most wealthy Romans had such a _major domo_, whose position was often one of honour and trust. 

 [7] _Pænula_. 

 [8] The second order of the Roman nobility. 

"_Salve! Salve, Domine!_" cried the slaves a second time, as thecarriage drew near. The young master pushed back the blue woollencurtains in order to gain a better view, then motioned to the driverto stop. 

"Are you slaves of mine?" was his question. The tone was interestedand kindly, and Mago saluted profoundly, and replied:--

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

"I am he, " replied the young man, smiling. "The day is hot. It growslate. 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 theirdelight. And Chloë whispered to Laïs: "You were right. The new masterwill 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 ofthe generosity of Drusus was presented. Down a by-path in the fieldfiled a sorrowful company; a long row of slaves in fetters, boundtogether by a band and chain round the waist of each. They were adisreputable enough gang of unkempt, unshaven, half-clothed wretches:Gauls and Germans with fair hair and giant physiques; dark-hairedSyrians; black-skinned Africans, --all panting and groaning, clankingtheir chains, and cursing softly at the two sullen overseers, who, with heavy-loaded whips, were literally driving them down into theroad. 

Again Drusus spoke. 

"Whose slaves are these? Mine?"

"They are your lordship's, " said the foremost overseer, who had justrecognized his newly come employer. 

"Why are they in chains?" asked Drusus. 

"Mamercus found them refractory, " replied the guard, "and ordered themto be kept in the underground prison, [11] and to work in the chaingang. "

 [11] _Ergastulum_. 

The young man made a motion of disgust. 

"Bah!" he remarked, "the whole _familia_[12] will be in fetters ifMamercus has his way much longer. Knock off those chains. Tell thewretches they are to remain unshackled only so long as they behave. Give them three skins to-night from which to drink their master'shealth. Drive on, Cappadox!"

 [12] Slave household. 

And before the fettered slaves could comprehend their release fromconfinement, and break out into a chorus of barbarous and uncouththanksgivings and blessings, the carriage had vanished from sight downthe turn of the road. 

II

Who was Quintus Livius Drusus? Doubtless he would have felt highlyinsulted if his family history had not been fairly well known to everyrespectable person around Præneste and to a very large and selectcircle at Rome. When a man could take Livius[13] for his gentile name, and Drusus for his cognomen, he had a right to hold his head high, andregard himself as one of the noblest and best of the imperial city. But of course the Drusian house had a number of branches, and thehistory of Quintus's direct family was this. He was the grandson ofthat Marcus Livius Drusus[14] who, though an aristocrat of thearistocrats, had dared to believe that the oligarchs were too strong, the Roman Commons without character, and that the Italian freemen weresuffering from wrongs inflicted by both of the parties at the capital. For his efforts to right the abuses, he had met with a reward verycommon to statesmen of his day, a dagger-thrust from the hand of anundiscovered assassin. He had left a son, Sextus, a man of culture andtalent, who remembered his father's fate, and walked for a time warilyin politics. Sextus had married twice. Once to a very noble lady ofthe Fabian gens, the mother of his son Quintus. Then some years afterher death he took in marriage a reigning beauty, a certain Valeria, who soon developed such extravagance and frivolity, that, soon aftershe bore him a daughter, he was forced "to send her a messenger"; inother words, to divorce her. The daughter had been put under theguardianship of Sextus's sister-in-law Fabia, one of the Vestalvirgins at Rome. Sextus himself had accepted an appointment to atribuneship in a legion of Cæsar in Gaul. When he departed for thewars he took with him as fellow officer a life-long friend, CaiusCornelius Lentulus; and ere leaving for the campaign the two hadformed a compact quite in keeping with the stern Roman spirit thatmade the child the slave of the father: Young Quintus Drusus shouldmarry Cornelia, Lentulus's only child, as soon as the two came to aproper age. And so the friends went away to win glory in Gaul; toperish side by side, when Sabinus's ill-fated legion was cut off bythe Eburones. [15]

 [13] Every Roman had a _prænomen_, or "Christian name"; also a gentile name of the gens or clan to which he belonged; and commonly in addition a cognomen, usually an epithet descriptive of some personal peculiarity of an ancestor, which had fastened itself upon the immediate descendants of that ancestor. The _Livii Drusi_ were among the noblest of the Roman houses. 

 [14] Died in 91 B. C. 

 [15] In 54 B. C. 

The son and the daughter remained. Quintus Drusus had had kindlyguardians; he had been sent for four years to the "University" atAthens; had studied rhetoric and philosophy; and now he was back withhis career before him, --master of himself, of a goodly fortune, of anoble inheritance of high-born ancestry. And he was to marry Cornelia. No thought of thwarting his father's mandate crossed his mind; he wasbound by the decree of the dead. He had not seen his betrothed forfour years. He remembered her as a bright-eyed, merry little girl, whohad an arch way of making all to mind her. But he remembered too, thather mother was a vapid lady of fashion, that her uncle and guardianwas Lucius Cornelius Lentulus Crus, Consul-elect, [16] a man of littlerefinement or character. And four years were long enough to mar ayoung girl's life. What would she be like? What had time made of her?The curiosity--we will not call it passion--was overpowering. Pure"love" was seldom recognized as such by the age. When the carriagereached a spot where two roads forked, leading to adjacent estates, Drusus alighted. 

 [16] The two Roman consuls were magistrates of the highest rank, and were chosen each year by the people. 

"Is her ladyship Cornelia at the villa of the Lentuli?" was his demandof a gardener who was trimming a hedge along the way. 

"Ah! Master Drusus, " cried the fellow, dropping his sickle in delight. "Joy to see you! Yes, she is in the grove by the villa; by the greatcypress you know so well. But how you have changed, sir--"

But Drusus was off. The path was familiar. Through the trees he caughtglimpses of the stately mazes of colonnades of the Lentulan villa, surrounded by its artificially arranged gardens, and its widestretches of lawn and orchard. The grove had been his playground. Herewas the oak under which Cornelia and he had gathered acorns. Theremnants of the little brush house they had built still survived. Hisstep quickened. He heard the rush of the little stream that woundthrough the grove. Then he saw ahead of him a fern thicket, and thebrook flashing its water beyond. In his recollection a bridge had herecrossed the streamlet. It had been removed. Just across, swayed thehuge cypress. Drusus stepped forward. At last! He pushed carefullythrough the thicket, making only a little noise, and glanced acrossthe brook. 

There were ferns all around the cypress. Ivies twined about its trunk. On the bank the green turf looked dry, but cool. Just under the treethe brook broke into a miniature cascade, and went rippling down in ascore of pygmy, sparkling waterfalls. On a tiny promontory a marblenymph, a fine bit of Greek sculpture, was pouring, without respite, from a water-urn into the gurgling flood. But Drusus did not gaze atthe nymph. Close beside the image, half lying, half sitting, in anabandon only to be produced by a belief that she was quite alone, rested a young woman. It was Cornelia. 

Drusus had made no disturbance, and the object on which he fastenedhis eyes had not been in the least stirred out of a rather deepreverie. He stood for a while half bashful, half contemplative. Cornelia had taken off her shoes and let her little white feet traildown into the water. She wore only her white tunic, and had pushed itback so that her arms were almost bare. At the moment she was restinglazily on one elbow, and gazing abstractedly up at the moving ocean ofgreen overhead. She was only sixteen; but in the warm Italian climethat age had brought her to maturity. No one would have said that shewas beautiful, from the point of view of mere softly sensuous Greekbeauty. Rather, she was handsome, as became the daughter of Corneliiand Claudii. She was tall; her hair, which was bound in a plain knoton the back of her head, was dark--almost black; her eyes were large, grey, lustrous, and on occasion could be proud and angry. Yet with itall she was pretty--pretty, said Drusus to himself, as any girl he hadseen in Athens. For there were coy dimples in her delicate littlechin, her finely chiselled features were not angular, while her cheekswere aglow with a healthy colour that needed no rouge to heighten. Inshort, Cornelia, like Drusus, was a Roman; and Drusus saw that she wasa Roman, and was glad. 

Presently something broke the reverie. Cornelia's eyes dropped fromthe treetops, and lighted up with attention. One glance across thebrook into the fern thicket; then one irrepressible feminine scream;and then:--

"Cornelia!" "Quintus!"

Drusus sprang forward, but almost fell into the brooklet. The bridgewas gone. Cornelia had started up, and tried to cover her arms andshake her tunic over her feet. Her cheeks were all smiles and blushes. But Drusus's situation was both pathetic and ludicrous. He had hisfiancée almost in his arms, and yet the stream stopped him. InstantlyCornelia was in laughter. 

"Oh! My second Leander, " she cried, "will you be brave, and swim againfrom Abydos to Sestos to meet your Hero?"

"Better!" replied Drusus, now nettled; "see!" And though the leap wasa long one he cleared it, and landed close by the marble nymph. 

Drusus had not exactly mapped out for himself the method ofapproaching the young woman who had been his child playmate. Cornelia, however, solved all his perplexity. Changing suddenly from laughterinto what were almost tears, she flung her arms around his neck, andkissed him again and again. 

"Oh, Quintus! Quintus!" she cried, nearly sobbing, "_I am_ so glad youhave come!"

"And I am glad, " said the young man, perhaps with a tremor in hisvoice. 

"I never knew how I wanted you, until you are here, " she continued; "Ididn't look for you to-day. I supposed you would come from Puteolito-morrow. Oh! Quintus, you must be very kind to me. Perhaps I am verystupid. But I am tired, tired. "

Drusus looked at her in a bit of astonishment. 

"Tired! I can't see that you look fatigued. "

"Not in body, " went on Cornelia, still holding on to him. "But here, sit down on the grass. Let me hold your hands. You do not mind. I wantto talk with you. No, don't interrupt. I must tell you. I have beenhere in Præneste only a week. I wanted to get away from Baiæ. [17] Iwas afraid to stay there with my mother. "

 [17] The famous watering-place on the Bay of Naples. 

"Afraid to stay at that lovely seashore house with your mother!"exclaimed Drusus, by no means unwilling to sit as entreated, butrather bewildered in mind. 

"I was afraid of Lucius Ahenobarbus, the consular[18] Domitius'ssecond son. _I don't like him! there!_" and Cornelia's grey eyes litup with menacing fire. 

 [18] An ex-consul was known by this title. 

"Afraid of Lucius Ahenobarbus!" laughed Drusus. "Well, I don't think Icall him a very dear friend. But why should he trouble you?"

"It was ever since last spring, when I was in the new theatre[19]seeing the play, that he came around, thrust himself upon me, andtried to pay attentions. Then he has kept them up ever since; hefollowed us to Baiæ; and the worst of it is, my mother and unclerather favour him. So I had Stephanus, my friend the physician, saythat sea air was not good for me, and I was sent here. My mother anduncle will come in a few days, but not that fellow Lucius, I hope. Iwas so tired trying to keep him off. "

 [19] Built by Pompeius the Great, in 55-54 B. C. 

"I will take care of the knave, " said Drusus, smiling. "So this is thetrouble? I wonder that your mother should have anything to do withsuch a fellow. I hear in letters that he goes with a disreputablegang. He is a boon companion with Marcus Læca, the old Catilinian, [20]who is a smooth-headed villain, and to use a phrase of my father'sgood friend Cicero--'has his head and eyebrows always shaved, that hemay not be said to have one hair of an honest man about him. ' But hewill have to reckon with me now. Now it is my turn to talk. Your longstory has been very short. Nor is mine long. My old uncle PubliusVibulanus is dead. I never knew him well enough to be able to mournhim bitterly. Enough, he died at ninety; and just as I arrive atPuteoli comes a message that I am his sole heir. His freedmen knew Iwas coming, embalmed the body, and wait for me to go to Rome to-morrowto give the funeral oration and light the pyre. He has left a fortunefit to compare with that of Crassus[21]--real estate, investments, alovely villa at Tusculum. And now I--no, _we_--are wealthy beyondavarice. Shall we not thank the Gods?"

 [20] A member of the band who with Catiline conspired in 63 B. C. To overthrow the Roman government. 

 [21] The Roman millionaire who had just been slain in Parthia. 

"I thank them for nothing, " was her answer; then more shyly, "exceptfor your own coming; for, Quintus, you--you--will marry me before verylong?"

"What hinders?" cried the other, in the best of spirits. "To-morrow Igo to Rome; then back again! And then all Præneste will flock to ourmarriage train. No, pout no more over Lucius Ahenobarbus. He shan'tpay disagreeable attentions. And now over to the old villa; forMamercus is eating his heart out to see me!"

And away they went arm in arm. 

Drusus's head was in the air. He had resolved to marry Cornelia, costwhat it might to his desires. He knew now that he was affianced to theone maiden in the world quite after his own heart. 

III

The paternal villa of Drusus lay on the lower part of the slope of thePræneste citadel, facing the east. It was a genuine country andfarming estate--not a mere refuge from the city heat and hubbub. TheDrusi had dwelt on it for generations, and Quintus had spent hisboyhood upon it. The whole mass of farm land was in the very pink ofcultivation. There were lines of stately old elms enclosing theestate; and within, in regular sequence, lay vineyards producing therather poor Præneste wine, olive orchards, groves of walnut trees, andmany other fruits. Returning to the point where he had left thecarriage, Drusus led Cornelia up a broad avenue flanked by nobleplanes and cypresses. Before them soon stood, or rather stretched, thecountry house. It was a large grey stone building, added to, from timeto time, by successive owners. Only in front did it show signs ofmodern taste and elegance. Here ran a colonnade of twelve red porphyrypillars, with Corinthian capitals. The part of the house reserved forthe master lay behind this entrance way. Back of it rambled thestructure used by the farm steward, and the slaves and cattle. Thewhole house was low--in fact practically one-storied; and the effectproduced was perhaps substantial, but hardly imposing. 

Up the broad avenue went the two young people; too busy with their owngay chatter to notice at a distance how figures were running in andout amid the colonnade, and how the pillars were festooned withflowers. But as they drew nearer a throng was evident. The whole farmestablishment--men, women, and children--had assembled, garlanded andgayly dressed, to greet the young master. Perhaps five hundredpersons--nearly all slaves--had been employed on the huge estate, andthey were all at hand. As Drusus came up the avenue, a general shoutof welcome greeted him. 

"_Ave! Ave! Domine!_" and there were some shouts as Cornelia was seenof, "_Ave! Domina!_"

"_Domina_[22] here very soon, " said Drusus, smiling to the young lady;and disengaging himself from her, he advanced to greet personally atall, ponderous figure, with white, flowing hair, a huge white beard, and a left arm that had been severed at the wrist, who came forwardwith a swinging military stride that seemed to belie his evident years. 

 [22] _Domina_, mistress. 

"All hail, dearest Mamercus!" exclaimed the young man, running up tothe burly object. "Here is the little boy you used to scold, fondle, and tell stories to, back safe and sound to hear the old tales and tolisten to some more admonitions. "

The veteran made a hurried motion with his remaining hand, as if tobrush something away from his eyes, and his deep voice seemed a triflehusky when he replied, speaking slowly:--

"_Mehercle!_[23] All the Gods be praised! The noble Sextus livingagain in the form of his son! Ah! This makes my old heart glad;" andhe held out his hand to Drusus. But the young man dashed it away, andflinging his arms around Mamercus's neck, kissed him on both cheeks. Then when this warm greeting was over, Drusus had to salute TitusMamercus, a solid, stocky, honest-faced country lad of eighteen, theson of the veteran; and after Titus--since the Mamerci and Drusi wereremotely related and the _jus oscului_[24]--less legally, the "rightof kissing"--existed between them, he felt called upon to press thecheek of Æmilia, Mamercus's pretty daughter, of about her brother'sage. Cornelia seemed a little discomposed at this, and perhaps so gaveher lover a trifling delight. But next he had to shake all thefreedmen by the hand, also the older and better known slaves; and tosay something in reply to their congratulations. The mass of theslaves he could not know personally; but to the assembled company hespoke a few words, with that quiet dignity which belongs to those whoare the heirs of generations of lordly ancestors. 

 [23] By Hercules. 

 [24] The right of kissing kinsfolk within the sixth degree. 

"This day I assume control of my estate. All past offences areforgiven. I remit any punishments, however justly imposed. To thosewho are my faithful servants and clients I will prove a kind andreasonable master. Let none in the future be mischievous or idle; forthem I cannot spare. But since the season is hot, in honour of myhome-coming, for the next ten days I order that no work, beyond thatbarely needed, be done in the fields. Let the familia enjoy rest, andlet them receive as much wine as they may take without being undulydrunken. Geta, Antiochus, and Kebes, who have been in this house manyyears, shall go with me before the prætor, to be set free. "

And then, while the slaves still shouted their _aves_ and _salves_, Mamercus led Drusus and Cornelia through the old villa, through theatrium where the fountain tinkled, and the smoky, waxen death-masks ofQuintus's noble ancestors grinned from the presses on the wall;through the handsomely furnished rooms for the master of the house;out to the barns and storehouses, that stretched away in the rear ofthe great farm building. Much pride had the veteran when he showed thesleek cattle, the cackling poultry-yard, and the tall stacks of hay;only he growled bitterly over what he termed the ill-timed leniency ofhis young patron in releasing the slaves in the chain-gang. 

"Oh, such times!" he muttered in his beard; "here's this young upstartcoming home, and teaches me that such dogs as I put in fetters arebetter set at large! There'll be a slave revolt next, and some nightall our throats will be cut. But it's none of my doing. "

"Well, " said Drusus, smiling, "I've been interested at Athens inlearning from philosophy that one owes some kindness even to a slave. But it's always your way, Mamercus, to tell how much better the oldtimes were than the new. "

"And I am right, " growled the other. "Hasn't a man who fought withMarius, and helped to beat those northern giants, the Cimbri andTeutones, a right to his opinion? The times are evil--evil! No justicein the courts. No patriotism in the Senate. Rascality in every consuland prætor. And the 'Roman People' orators declaim about are only amob! _Vah!_ We need an end to this game of fauns and satyrs!"

"Come, " said Drusus, "we are not at such a direful strait yet. Thereis one man at least whom I am convinced is not altogether a knave; andI have determined to throw in my lot with him. Do you guess, Mamercus?"

"Cæsar?"

Drusus nodded. Mamercus broke out into a shout of approval. 

"_Euge!_ Unless my son Decimus, who is centurion with him, writes mefalse, _he_ is a man!"

But Cornelia was distressed of face. 

"Quintus, " she said very gravely, "do you know that I have often heardthat Cæsar is a wicked libertine, who wishes to make himself tyrant?What have you done?"

"Nothing rashly, " said Drusus, also quite grave; "but I have countedthe matter on both sides--the side of Pompeius and the Senate, and theside of Cæsar--and I have written to Balbus, Cæsar's manager at Rome, that I shall use my tiny influence for the proconsul of the Gauls. "

Cornelia seemed greatly affected; she clasped and unclasped her hands, pressed them to her brows; then when she let them fall, she was againsmiling. 

"Quintus, " she said, putting her arm around him, "Quintus, I am only asilly little girl. I do not know anything about politics. You arewiser than I, and I can trust you. But please don't quarrel with myuncle Lentulus about your decision. He would be terribly angry. "

Quintus smiled in turn, and kissing her, said: "Can you trust me? Ihope so. And be assured I will do all I may, not to quarrel with youruncle. And now away with all this silly serious talk! What a pity forMamercus to have been so gloomy as to introduce it! What a pity I mustgo to Rome to-morrow, and leave this dear old place! But then, I haveto see my aunt Fabia, and little Livia, the sister I haven't met sinceshe was a baby. And while I am in Rome I will do something else--canyou guess?" Cornelia shook her head. "Carpenters, painters, masons! Iwill send them out to make this old villa fresh and pretty for someone who, I hope, will come here to live in about a month. No, don'trun away, " for Cornelia was trying to hide her flushed face by flight;"I have something else to get--a present for your own dear self. Whatshall it be? I am rich; cost does not matter. "

Cornelia pursed her lips in thought. 

"Well, " she remarked, "if you could bring me out a pretty boy, not tooold or too young, one that was honest and quick-witted, he would bevery convenient to carry messages to you, and to do any littlebusiness for me. "

Cornelia asked for a slave-boy just as she might have asked for a newpony, with that indifference to the question of humanity whichindicated that the demarcation between a slave and an animal was veryslight in her mind. 

"Oh! that is nothing, " said Drusus; "you shall have the handsomest andcleverest in all Rome. And if Mamercus complains that I am extravagantin remodelling the house, let him remember that his wonderful Cæsar, when a young man, head over ears in debt, built an expensive villa atAricia, and then pulled it down to the foundations and rebuilt on animproved plan. Farewell, Sir Veteran, I will take Cornelia home, andthen come back for that dinner which I know the cook has made readywith his best art. "

Arm in arm the young people went away down the avenue of shade trees, dim in the gathering twilight. Mamercus stood gazing after them. 

"What a pity! What a pity!" he repeated to himself, "that Sextus andCaius are not alive; how they would have rejoiced in their children!Why do the fates order things as they do? Only let them be kind enoughto let me live until I hold another little Drusus on my knee, and tellhim of the great battles! But the Gods forbid, Lentulus should findout speedily that his lordship has gone over to Cæsar; or there willbe trouble enough for both his lordship and my lady. The consul-electis a stubborn, bitter man. He would be terribly offended to give hisniece in marriage to a political enemy. But it may all turn out well. Who knows?" And he went into the house. 

Chapter II

The Upper Walks of Society

I

It was very early in the morning. From the streets, far below, a dullrumbling was drifting in at the small, dim windows. On the couch, behind some faded curtains, a man turned and yawned, grunted andrubbed his eyes. The noise of the heavy timber, stone, and merchandisewagons hastening out of the city before daybreak, [25] jarred the room, and made sleep almost impossible. The person awakened swore quietly tohimself in Greek. 

 [25] No teaming was allowed in Rome by day. 

"_Heracles!_ Was ever one in such a city! What malevolent spiritbrought me here? Throat-cutting on the streets at night; highwaymen inevery foul alley; unsafe to stir at evening without an armed band! Nopolice worth mentioning; freshets every now and then; fires every dayor else a building tumbles down. And then they must wake me up at anunearthly hour in the morning. Curses on me for ever coming near theplace!" And the speaker rolled over on the bed, and shook himself, preparatory to getting up. 

"Bah! Can these Roman dogs never learn that power is to be used, notabused? Why don't they spend some of their revenues to level theseseven hills that shut off the light, and straighten and widen theirabominable, ill-paved streets, and keep houses from piling up as if tostorm Olympus? Pshaw, I had better stop croaking, and be up andabout. "

The speaker sat up in bed, and clapped his hands. Into the ill-lightedand unpretentiously furnished room came a tall, bony, ebon-skinned oldEthiopian, very scantily attired, who awaited the wishes of hismaster. 

"Come, Sesostris, " said the latter, "get out my best_himation_[26]--the one with the azure tint. Give me a clean_chiton_, [27] and help me dress. "

 [26] Greek outer mantle. 

 [27] Greek under garment. 

And while the servant bustled briskly about his work, Pratinas, forsuch was his lord's name, continued his monologue, ignoring thepresence of his attendant. "Not so bad with me after all. Six yearsago to-day it was I came to Rome, with barely an obol of ready money, to make my fortune by my wits. Zeus! But I can't but say I'vesucceeded. A thousand sesterces here and five hundred there, and nowand then a better stroke of fortune--politics, intrigues, gambling;all to the same end. And now?--oh, yes, my 'friends' would say I amvery respectable, but quite poor--but they don't know how I haveeconomized, and how my account stands with Sosthenes the banker atAlexandria. My old acquaintance with Lucius Domitius was of some use. A few more months of this life and I am away from this beastly Rome, to enjoy myself among civilized people. "

Pratinas went over to a large wooden chest with iron clasps, unlockedit, and gazed for a moment inside with evident satisfaction. "Thereare six good talents in there, " he remarked to himself, "and thenthere is Artemisia. "

He had barely concluded this last, hardly intelligible assertion, whenthe curtain of the room was pushed aside, and in came a short, plump, rosy-faced little maiden of twelve, with a clearly chiselled Greekprofile and lips as red as a cherry. Her white chiton was mussed and atrifle soiled; and her thick black hair was tied back in a low knot, so as to cover what were two very shapely little ears. All in all, shepresented a very pretty picture, as the sunlight streamed over her, when she drew back the hangings at the window. 

"Good morning, Uncle Pratinas, " she said sweetly. 

"Good morning, Artemisia, my dear, " replied the other, giving herround neck a kiss, and a playful pinch. "You will practise on yourlyre, and let Sesostris teach you to sing. You know we shall go backto Alexandria very soon; and it is pleasant there to have someaccomplishments. "

"And must you go out so early, uncle?" said the girl. "Can't you staywith me any part of the day? Sometimes I get very lonely. "

"Ah! my dear, " said Pratinas, smoothly, "if I could do what I wished, I would never leave you. But business cannot wait. I must go and seethe noble Lucius Calatinus on some very important political matters, which you could not understand. Now run away like a good girl, anddon't become doleful. "

Artemisia left the room, and Pratinas busied himself about the finetouches of his toilet. When he held the silver mirror up to his face, he remarked to himself that he was not an unhandsome man. "If I didnot have to play the philosopher, and wear this thick, hot beard, [28]I would not be ashamed to show my head anywhere. " Then while heperfumed himself with oil of saffron out of a little onyx bottle, hewent on:--

 [28] At an age when respectable men were almost invariably smooth shaven, the philosophers wore flowing beards, as a sort of professional badge. 

"What dogs and gluttons these Romans are! They have no real taste forart, for beauty. They cannot even conduct a murder, save in a bunglingway. They have to call in us Hellenes to help them. Ha! ha! this isthe vengeance for Hellas, for the sack and razing of Corinth and allthe other atrocities! Rome can conquer with the sword; but we Greeks, though conquered, can, unarmed, conquer Rome. How these Italians canwaste their money! Villas, statues, pretty slaves, costly vases, andtables of mottled cypress, [29] oysters worth their weight in gold, andI know not what else! And I, poor Pratinas, the Greek, who lives in anupper floor of a Subura house at only two thousand sesterces rental, find in these noble Roman lords only so much plunder. Ha! ha! Hellas, thou art avenged!"

 [29] A "fad" of this time. Such tables often cost $20, 000. 

And gathering his mantle about him, he went down the several flightsof very rickety stairs, and found himself in the buzzing street. 

II

The Romans hugged a fond belief that houses shut out from sunlight andair were extremely healthy. If such were the fact, there should havebeen no sickness in a great part of the capital. The street in whichPratinas found himself was so dark, that he was fain to wait till hiseyes accommodated themselves to the change. The street was no widerthan an alley, yet packed with booths and hucksters, --sellers ofboiled peas and hot sausage, and fifty other wares. On the worthyHellene pressed, while rough German slaves or swarthy Africans jostledagainst him; the din of scholars declaiming in an adjoining schooldeafened him; a hundred unhappy odors made him wince. Then, as hefought his way, the streets grew a trifle wider; as he approached theForum the shops became more pretentious; at last he reached hisdestination in the aristocratic quarter of the Palatine, and pausedbefore a new and ostentatious mansion, in whose vestibule was swarminga great bevy of clients, all come in the official calling costume--aponderous toga--to pay their respects to the great man. But as theinner door was pushed aside by the vigilant keeper, all the rest ofthe crowd were kept out till Pratinas could pass within. 

The atrium of the house was a splendid sight, with its veined marblepillars, mosaic floor, bubbling fountain, choice frescoes, andexpensive furniture upholstered in Tyrian purple. A little in the rearof this gorgeous room was seated in a high armchair the individual whoboasted himself the lord of this establishment, Lucius AtiliusCalatinus. He was a large, coarse man, with a rough, bull-dog face andstraight red hair. He had been drinking heavily the night before, andhis small bluish eyes had wide dark circles beneath them, and hisbreath showed strongly the garlic with which he had seasoned the breadand grapes of his early lunch. He was evidently very glad to see hisGreek visitor, and drove the six large, heavily gemmed rings which hewore on one of his fat fingers, almost into the other's hand when heshook it. 

"Well met, Pratinas!" was his salutation. "Tell me, is that littleaffair of yours settled? Have you stopped the mouth of that beastlyfellow, Postumus Pyrgensis, who said that I was a base upstart, withno claim to my gentile name, and a bad record as a tax farmer inSpain, and therefore should not be elected tribune[30]?"

 [30] The ten tribunes had power to convene the people and Senate, propose laws and "veto" the actions of other magistrates. 

"I have stopped him, " said Pratinas, with a little cough. "But it wasexpensive. He stuck out for ten thousand sesterces. "

"Oh, cheaply off, " said Calatinus, laughing. "I will give you mycheque on Flaccus the banker. But I want to know about the othermatter. Can you make sure of the votes of the Suburana tribe? Have youseen Autronius?"

"I have seen him, " said Pratinas, dryly. 

"And he said?"

"Twenty thousand sesterces for him to deposit with trustees[31] untilthe election is over. Then he as go-between[32] will make sure of amajority of the tribesmen, and distribute to them the money if allgoes well at the _comitia_. [33] It was the best bargain I could make;for Autronius really controls the tribe, and some one might outbid us. "

 [31] _Sequestres_. 

 [32] _Interpres_. 

 [33] Assembly of the Roman tribes for election. 

"All right, " broke out Calatinus with a laugh, "another cheque onFlaccus. "

"One thing else, " said Pratinas; "I must have a little money to shutup any complaints that those ridiculous anti-bribery Licinian andPompeian Laws are being broken. Then there is my fee. "

"Oh, yes, " replied the other, not to be daunted in his good humour, "I'll give you fifty thousand in all. Now I must see this rabble. "

And the mob of clients swept up to the armchair, grasping after thegreat man's hand, and raining on him their _aves_, while some daringmortals tried to thrust in a kiss. 

Pratinas drew back and watched the crowd with a smile half cynical, half amused. Some of the visitors were regular hangers-on, who perhapsexpected an invitation to dine; some were seekers of patronage; somehad an eye to political preferment, a few were real acquaintances ofCalatinus or came on some legitimate business. Pratinas observed threefriends waiting to speak with Calatinus, and was soon in conversation. 

The first of the trio was known as Publius Gabinius, who was by farthe oldest. Coarse-featured, with broken complexion, it needed but aglance to proclaim him as gifted with no other distinctions than thoseof a hard drinker, fast liver, and the owner of an attenuatedconscience. Servius Flaccus, the second, was of a different type. Hewas languid; spirited only when he railed at a slave who brushedagainst his immaculate toga. The frills on his robes made him almostfeminine; and he spoke, even in invective, in a soft, lisping voice. Around him floated the aroma of countless rare unguents, that made hiscoming known afar off. His only aim in life was evidently to getthrough it with as little exertion of brain or muscle as was possible. The third friend was unlike the others. Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbusclearly amounted to more than either of his companions. A constantworship of three very popular gods of the day--Women, Wine, andGaming--with the other excitements of a dissipated life, had ruined afine fair complexion. As it was, he had the profile of a handsome, affable man; only the mouth was hard and sensual, and his skin wasfaded and broken. He wore a little brown beard carefully trimmedaround his well-oiled chin after the manner of Roman men of fashion;and his dark hair was crimped in regular steps or gradations, partingin the middle and arranged on both sides like a girl's. [34]

 [34] Suet. , "Nero, " 51. 

"Good morning, Pratinas!" said Lucius, warmly, taking the Greek'shand. "How glad we are to find you here. I wanted to ask you around toMarcus Læca's to-night; we think he will give something of a feast, and you must see my latest sweetheart--Clyte! She is a little pearl. Ihave had her head cut in intaglio on this onyx; is she not pretty?"

"Very pretty, " said Pratinas, looking at the engraving on the ring. "But perhaps it is not right for me, a grave philosopher, to go toyour banquet. "

"How (h)absurd! (H)of c(h)ourse you c(h)an!" lisped Flaccus, whoaffected Greek so far as to aspirate every word beginning with avowel, and to change every _c_ into a _ch_. 

"Well, " said Pratinas, laughing, for he was a dearly loved favouriteof all these gilded youth, "I will see! And now Gabinius is invitingCalatinus also, and we are dispersing for the morning. "

"Alas, " groaned Ahenobarbus, "I must go to the Forum to plead withthat wretch Phormio, the broker, to arrange a new loan. "

"And I to the Forum, also, " added Calatinus, coming up, "to continuethis pest of a canvass for votes. "

The clients fell into line behind Calatinus like a file of soldiers, but before Pratinas could start away with the other friends, aslave-boy came running out from the inner house, to say that "the LadyValeria would be glad of his company in her boudoir. " The Greek bowedhis farewells, then followed the boy back through the court of theperistylium. [35]

 [35] An inner private court back of the atrium. 

III

The dressing room occupied by Valeria--once wife of Sextus Drusus andnow living with Calatinus as her third husband in about fouryears--was fitted up with every luxury which money, and a taste whichcarried refinement to an extreme point, could accomplish. The wallswere bright with splendid mythological scenes by really good artists;the furniture itself was plated with silver; the rugs weremagnificent. The mistress of this palatial abode was sitting in a loweasy-chair, holding before her a fairly large silver mirror. She worea loose gown of silken texture, edged to an ostentatious extent withpurple. Around her hovered Arsinoë and Semiramis, two handsome Greekslave-girls, who were far better looking than their owner, inasmuch astheir complexions had never been ruined by paints and ointments. Theywere expert hairdressers, and Valeria had paid twenty-five thousandsesterces for each of them, on the strength of their proficiency inthat art, and because they were said to speak with a pure Attic Greekaccent. At the moment they were busy stripping off from the lady'sface a thick layer of dried enamel that had been put on the nightbefore. 

Had Valeria been willing, she might have feared no comparison with hermaids; for from a merely sensuous standpoint, she would have beenreckoned very beautiful. She had by nature large brown eyes, luxuriantbrown hair, and what had been a clear brunette skin, and well-roundedand regular features. But her lips were curled in hard, haughty lines, her long eyelashes drooped as though she took little interest in life;and, worse than all, to satisfy the demands of fashion, she hadbleached her hair to a German blonde, by a process ineffective andinjurious. The lady was just fuming to herself over a gray hairArsinoë had discovered, and Arsinoë went around in evident fear lestValeria should vent her vexation on her innocent ministers. 

Over in one corner of the room, on a low divan, was sitting astrange-looking personage. A gaunt, elderly man clothed in a verydingy Greek himation, with shaggy grey hair, and an enormous beardthat tumbled far down his breast. This personage was Pisander, Valeria's "house-philosopher, " who was expected to be always at herelbow pouring into her ears a rain of learned lore. For this worthylady (and two thousand years later would she not be attending lectureson Dante or Browning?) was devoted to philosophy, and loved to hearthe Stoics[36] and Epicureans expound their varying systems of thecosmos. At this moment she was feasting her soul on Plato. Pisanderwas reading from the "Phaidros, " "They might have seen beauty shiningin brightness, when the happy band, following in the train of Zeus (aswe philosophers did; or with the other gods, as others did), saw avision, and were initiated into most blessed mysteries, which wecelebrated in our state of innocence; and having no feeling of evilsyet to come; beholding apparitions, innocent and simple and calm andhappy as in a mystery; shining in pure light; pure ourselves, and notyet enchained in that living tomb which we carry about, now that weare imprisoned in the body ... "

 [36] The opponents of the Epicureans; they nobly antagonized the mere pursuit of pleasure held out as the one end of life by the Epicurean, and glorified duty. 

"Pratinas, to see her ladyship!" bawled a servant-boy[37] at thedoorway, very unceremoniously interrupting the good man and hislearnedly sublime lore. And Pratinas, with the softest and sweetest ofhis Greek smiles, entered the room. 

 [37] _Cubicularius_. 

"Your ladyship does me the honour, " he began, with an extremelydeferential salutation. 

"Oh, my dear Pratinas, " cried Valeria, in a language she called Greek, seizing his hand and almost embracing him, "how delighted I am to seeyou! We haven't met since--since yesterday morning. I did so want tohave a good talk with you about Plato's theory of the separateexistence of ideas. But first I must ask you, have you heard whetherthe report is true that Terentia, Caius Glabrio's wife, has run offwith a gladiator?"

"So Gabinius, I believe, " replied Pratinas, "just told me. And I heardsomething else. A great secret. You must not tell. "

"Oh! I am dying to know, " smirked Valeria. 

"Well, " said the Greek, confidentially, "Publius Silanus has divorcedhis wife, Crispia. 'She went too much, ' he says, 'with youngPurpureo. '"

"You do not say so!" exclaimed the lady. "I always knew that wouldhappen! Now tell me, don't you think this perfume of iris is delicate?It's in that little glass scent bottle; break the neck. [38] I shalluse it in a minute. I have just had some bottles sent up from Capua. Roman perfumes are so vulgar!"

 [38] To let out the ointment. Capua was a famed emporium for perfumes and like wares. 

"I fear, " said Pratinas, doing as bidden, and testing the essence withevident satisfaction, "that I have interrupted your philosophicalstudies. " And he glanced at Pisander, who was sitting lonesome andoffended in his corner. 

"Oh! not in the least, " ran on Valeria; "but though I know you areEpicurean, surely you enjoy Plato?"

"Certainly, " said Pratinas, with dramatic dignity, "I suck the sweetsfrom the flowers left us by all the wise and good. Epicurean though Iam, your ladyship must permit me to lend you a copy of an essay I havewith me, by that great philosopher, the Stoic Chrysippos, [39] althoughI cannot agree with all his teachings; and this copy of Panaitios, theEclectic's great _Treatise on Duty_, which cannot fail to edify yourladyship. " And he held out the two rolls. 

 [39] Born 180 B. C. 

"A thousand thanks, " said Valeria, languidly, "hand them to Pisander. I will have him read them. A little more white lead, Arsinoë, I am tootanned; make me paler. Just run over the veins of my temples with atouch of blue paint. Now a tint of antimony on my eyelids. "

"Your ladyship seems in wonderfully good spirits this morning, "insinuated Pratinas. 

"Yes, " said Valeria, with a sigh, "I endure the woes of life as shouldone who is consoled by philosophy. "

"Shall I continue the Plato?" edged in poor Pisander, who was raginginwardly to think that Pratinas should dare to assume the name of a"lover of learning. "

"When you are needed, I can tell you, " snapped Valeria, sharply, atthe feeble remonstrance. "Now, Semiramis, you may arrange my hair. "

The girl looked puzzled. To tell the truth, Valeria was speaking in atongue that was a babel of Greek and Latin, although she fondlyimagined it to be the former, and Semiramis could hardly understandher. 

"If your ladyship will speak in Latin, " faltered the maid. 

"Speak in Latin! Speak in Latin!" flared up Valeria. "Am I deceived?Are you not Greeks? Are you some ignorant Italian wenches who can'tspeak anything but their native jargon? Bah! You've misplaced a curl. Take that!" And she struck the girl across the palms, with the flat ofher silver mirror. Semiramis shivered and flushed, but said nothing. 

"Do I not have a perfect Greek pronunciation?" said the lady, turningto Pratinas. "It is impossible to carry on a polite conversation inLatin. "

"I can assure your ladyship, " said the Hellene, with still anotherbland smile, "that your pronunciation is something exceedinglyremarkable. "

Valeria was pacified, and lay back submitting to her hairdressers[40], while Pratinas, who knew what kind of "philosophy" appealed most tohis fair patroness, read with a delicate yet altogether admirablevoice, a number of scraps of erotic verse that he said friends hadjust sent on from Alexandria. 

 [40] _Ornatrices_. 

"Oh! the shame to call himself a philosopher, " groaned the neglectedPisander to himself. "If I believed in the old gods, I would invokethe Furies upon him. "

But Valeria was now in the best of spirits. "By the twoGoddesses, "[41] she swore, "what charming sentiments you Greeks canexpress. Now I think I look presentable, and can go around and seePapiria, and learn about that dreadful Silanus affair. Tell Agias tobring in the cinnamon ointment. I will try that for a change. It is inthe murrhine[42] vase in the other room. "

 [41] Demeter and Persephone, a Greek woman's oath. 

 [42] A costly substance, probably porcelain agate. 

Iasus the serving-boy stepped into the next apartment, and gave theorder to one of his fellow slaves. A minute later there was a crash. Arsinoë, who was without, screamed, and Semiramis, who thrust her headout the door, drew it back with a look of dismay. 

"What has happened?" cried Valeria, startled and angry. 

Into the room came Arsinoë, Iasus, and a second slave-boy, awell-favoured, intelligent looking young Greek of about seventeen. Hisruddy cheeks had turned very pale, as had those of Iasus. 

"What has happened?" thundered Valeria, in a tone that showed that asorry scene was impending. 

The slaves fell on their knees; cowered, in fact, on the rugs at thelady's feet. 

"_A! A! A!_ Lady! Mercy!" they all began in a breath. "The murrhinavase! It is broken!"

"Who broke it?" cried their mistress, casting lightning glances fromone to another. 

Now the truth had been, that while Agias was coming through a doorcovered with a curtain, carrying the vase, Iasus had carelesslyblundered against him and caused the catastrophe. But there had beenno other witnesses to the accident; and when Iasus saw that hismistress's anger would promptly descend on somebody, he had not themoral courage to take the consequences of his carelessness. Whatamounted to a frightful crime was committed in an instant. 

"Agias stumbled and dropped the vase, " said Iasus, telling the truth, but not the whole truth. 

"Send for Alfidius the _lorarius_, "[43] raged Valeria, who, with thepromptness that characterizes a certain class of women, jumped at aconclusion and remained henceforth obstinate. "This shall not happenagain! Oh! my vase! my vase! I shall never get another one like it! Itwas one of the spoils of Mithridates, and"--here her eye fell onAgias, cringing and protesting his innocence in a fearful agony. 

 [43] Whipper; many Roman houses had such a functionary, and he does not seem to have lacked employment. 

"Stand up, boy! Stop whining! Of course you broke the vase. Who elsehad it? I will make you a lesson to all the slaves in my house. Theyneed one badly. I will get another serving-boy who will be morecareful. "

Agias was deathly pale; the beads of sweat stood out on his forehead;he grasped convulsively at the hem of his mistress's robe, andmurmured wildly of "mercy! mercy!" Pratinas stood back with hisimperturbable smile on his face; and if he felt the least pity for hisfellow-countryman, he did not show it. 

"Alfidius awaits the mistress, " announced Semiramis, with tremblinglips. 

Into the room came a brutish, hard-featured, shock-headed man, with alarge scar, caused by branding, on his forehead. He carried a shortrope and scourge, [44]--a whip with a short handle to which wereattached three long lashes, set at intervals with heavy bits ofbronze. He cast one glance over the little group in the room, and hisdull piglike eyes seemed to light up with a fierce glee, as hecomprehended the situation. 

 [44] _Flagellum_. 

"What does your ladyship wish?" he growled. 

"Take this wretched boy, " cried Valeria, spurning Agias with her foot;"take him away. Make an example of him. Take him out beyond the PortaEsquilina and whip him to death. Let me never see him again. "

Pisander sprang up in his corner, quivering with righteous wrath. 

"What is this?" he cried. "The lad is not guilty of any real crime. Itwould be absurd to punish a horse for an action like his, and a slaveis as good as a horse. What philosopher could endure to see such anoutrage?"

Valeria was too excited to hear him. Pratinas coolly took theperturbed philosopher round the waist, and by sheer force seated himin a chair. 

"My friend, " he said calmly, "you can only lose your place byinterfering; the boy is food for the crows already. Philosophy shouldteach you to regard little affairs like this unmoved. "

Before Pisander could remonstrate further Alfidius had caught up Agiasas if he had been an infant, and carried him, while moaning andpleading, out of the room. Iasus was still trembling. He was not aknave--simply unheroic, and he knew that he had committed the basestof actions. Semiramis and Arsinoë were both very pale, but spoke nevera word. Arsinoë looked pityingly after the poor boy, for she had grownvery fond of his bright words and obliging manners. For some minutesthere was, in fact, perfect silence in the boudoir. 

Alfidius carried his victim out into the slaves' quarters in the rearof the house; there he bound his hands and called in the aid of anassistant to help him execute his mistress's stern mandate. 

Agias had been born for far better things than to be a slave. Hisfather had been a cultured Alexandrine Greek, a banker, and had givenhis young son the beginnings of a good education. But the rascality ofa business partner had sent the father to the grave bankrupt, the sonto the slave-market to satisfy the creditors. And now Alfidius and hismyrmidon bound their captive to a furca, a wooden yoke passing downthe back of the neck and down each arm. The rude thongs cut the fleshcruelly, and the wretches laughed to see how the delicate boy writhedand faltered under the pain and the load. 

"Ah, ha! my fine _Furcifer_, "[45] cried Alfidius, when this work wascompleted. "How do you find yourself?"

 [45] Furca-bearer, a coarse epithet. 

"Do you mock at me, you '_three letter man_'?" retorted Agias in grimdespair, referring cuttingly to FVR[46] branded on Alfidius'sforehead. 

 [46] Thief. Branding was a common punishment for slaves. 

"So you sing, my pretty bird, " laughed the executioner. "I think youwill croak sorrowfully enough before long. Call me '_man of letters_'if you will; to-night the dogs tear that soft skin of yours, while myhide is sound. Now off for the Porta Esquilina! Trot along with you!"and he swung his lash over the wretched boy's shoulders. 

Agias was led out into the street. He was too pained and numbed togroan, resist, or even think and fear. The thongs might well have beensaid to press his mind as much as his skin. 

Chapter III

The Privilege of a Vestal

I

Drusus started long before daybreak on his journey to Rome; with himwent Cappadox, his ever faithful body-servant, and Pausanias, theamiable and cultivated freedman who had been at his elbow ever sincehe had visited Athens. For a while the young master dozed in hiscarriage; but, as they whirled over mile after mile of the Campagna, the sun arose; then, when sleep left him, the Roman was all alive tothe patriotic reminiscences each scene suggested. Yonder to the farsouth lay Alba, the old home of the Latins, and a little southward toowas the Lake of Regillus, where tradition had it the free Romans wontheir first victory, and founded the greatness of the Republic. Alongthe line of the Anio, a few miles north, had marched Hannibal on hismad dash against Rome to save the doomed Capua. And these pictures ofbrave days, and many another vision like them, welled up in Drusus'smind, and the remembrance of the marble temples of the Greek citiesfaded from his memory; for, as he told himself, Rome was built ofnobler stuff than marble;--she was built of the deeds of men strongand brave, and masters of every hostile fate. And he rejoiced that hecould be a Roman, and share in his country's deathless fame, perhapscould win for her new honour, --could be consul, triumphator, and leadhis applauding legions up to the temple of Capitoline Jove--anothernational glory added to so many. 

So the vision of the great city of tall ugly tenement houses, baskingon her "Seven Hills, " which only on their summits showed the noblertemples or the dwellings of the great patricians, broke upon him. Andit was with eyes a-sparkle with enthusiasm, and a light heart, that hereached the Porta Esquilina, left the carriage for a litter borne byfour stout Syrians sent out from the house of his late uncle, and wascarried soon into the hubbub of the city streets. 

Everywhere was the same crowd; shopping parties were pressing in andout the stores, outrunners and foot-boys were continually colliding. Drusus's escort could barely win a slow progress for their master. Once on the Sacred Way the advance was more rapid; although even thisfamous street was barely twenty-two feet wide from house wall to housewall. Here was the "Lombard" or "Wall Street" of antiquity. Here werethe offices of the great banking houses and syndicates that held theworld in fee. Here centred those busy equites, the capitalists, whosetransactions ran out even beyond the lands covered by the eagles, sothat while Gaul was yet unconquered, Cicero could boast, "not asesterce in Gaul changes hands without being entered in a Romanledger. " And here were brokers whose clients were kings, and who bytheir "influence" almost made peace or war, like modern Rothschilds. 

Thither Drusus's litter carried him, for he knew that his first act oncoming to Rome to take possession of his uncle's property should be toconsult without delay his agent and financial and legal adviser, lestany loophole be left for a disappointed fortune-hunter to contest thewill. The bearers put him down before the important firm of Flaccusand Sophus. Out from the open, windowless office ran the seniorpartner, Sextus Fulvius Flaccus, a stout, comfortable, rosy-faced oldeques, who had half Rome as his financial clients, the other half inhis debt. Many were his congratulations upon Drusus's manly growth, and many more upon the windfall of Vibulanus's fortune, which, as hedeclared, was too securely conveyed to the young man to be open to anylegal attack. 

But when Drusus intimated that he expected soon to invite the good manto his marriage feast, Flaccus shook his head. 

"You will never get a sesterce of Cornelia's dowry, " he declared. "Heruncle Lentulus Crus is head over ears in debt. Nothing can save him, unless--"

"I don't understand you, " said the other. 

"Well, " continued Flaccus, "to be frank; unless there is nothing shortof a revolution. "

"Will it come to that?" demanded Drusus. 

"Can't say, " replied Flaccus, as if himself perplexed. "Everybodydeclares Cæsar and Pompeius are dreadfully alienated. Pompeius isjoining the Senate. Half the great men of Rome are in debt, as I havecause to know, and unless we have an overturn, with 'clean accounts'as a result, more than one noble lord is ruined. I am calling in allmy loans, turning everything into cash. Credit is bad--bad. Cæsar paidCurio's debts--sixty millions of sesterces. [47] That's why Curio is aCæsarian now. Oh! money is the cause of all these vile politicalchanges! Trouble is coming! Sulla's old throat cuttings will benothing to it! But don't marry Lentulus's niece!"

 [47] I. E. $2, 400, 000; a sesterce was about 4 cents. 

"Well, " said Drusus, when the business was done, and he turned to go, "I want Cornelia, not her dowry. "

"Strange fellow, " muttered Flaccus, while Drusus started off in hislitter. "I always consider the dowry the principal part of amarriage. "

II

Drusus regained his litter, and ordered his bearers to take him to thehouse of the Vestals, --back of the Temple of Vesta, --where he wishedto see his aunt Fabia and Livia, his little half-sister. The Templeitself--a small, round structure, with columns, a conical roof whichwas fringed about with dragons and surmounted by a statue--stillshowed signs of the fire, which, in 210 B. C. , would have destroyed itbut for thirteen slaves, who won their liberty by checking the blaze. Tradition had it that here the holy Numa had built the hut whichcontained the hearth-fire of Rome, --the divine spark which now shedits radiance over the nations. Back of the Temple was the House of theVestals, a structure with a plain exterior, differing little from theordinary private dwellings. Here Drusus had his litter set down for asecond time, and notified the porter that he would be glad to see hisaunt and sister. The young man was ushered into a spacious, handsomelyfurnished and decorated atrium, where were arranged lines of statuesof the various _maximæ_[48] of the little religious order. A shy younggirl with a white dress and fillet, who was reading in the apartment, slipped noiselessly out, as the young man entered; for the noviceswere kept under strict control, with few liberties, until their eldersisters could trust them in male society. Then there was a rustle ofrobes and ribbons, and in came a tall, stately lady, also in purewhite, and a little girl of about five, who shrank coyly back whenDrusus called her his "Liviola"[49] and tried to catch her in hisarms. But the lady embraced him, and kissed him, and asked a thousandthings about him, as tenderly as if she had been his mother. 

 [48] Senior Vestals. 

 [49] A diminutive of endearment. 

Fabia the Vestal was now about thirty-seven years of age. One andthirty years before had the Pontifex Maximus chosen her out--a littlegirl--to become the priestess of Vesta, the hearth-goddess, thehome-goddess of Pagan Rome. Fabia had dwelt almost all her life in thehouse of the Vestals. Her very existence had become identified withthe little sisterhood, which she and her five associates composed. Itwas a rather isolated yet singularly pure and peaceful life which shehad led. Revolutions might rock the city and Empire; Marians andSullians contend; Catilina plot ruin and destruction; Clodius and hisruffians terrorize the streets; but the fire of the greathearth-goddess was never scattered, nor were its gentle ministersmolested. Fabia had thus grown to mature womanhood. Ten years she hadspent in learning the Temple ritual, ten years in performing theactual duties of the sacred fire and its cultus, ten years in teachingthe young novices. And now she was free, if she chose, to leave theTemple service, and even to marry. But Fabia had no intention oftaking a step which would tear her from the circle in which she wasdearly loved, and which, though permitted by law, would be publiclydeplored as an evil omen. 

The Vestal's pure simple life had left its impress on her features. Peace and innocent delight in innocent things shone through her darkeyes and soft, well-rounded face. Her light brown hair was covered andconfined by a fillet of white wool. [50] She wore a stola and outergarment of stainless white linen--the perfectly plain badge of herchaste and holy office; while on her small feet were dainty sandals, bound on by thongs of whitened leather. Everything about her dress andfeatures betokened the priestess of a gentle religion. 

 [50] _Infula_. 

When questions and repeated salutations were over, and Livia hadceased to be too afraid of her quite strange brother, Fabia asked whatshe could do for her nephew. As one of the senior Vestals, her timewas quite her own. "Would he like to have her go out with him to visitfriends, or go shopping? Or could she do anything to aid him aboutordering frescoers and carpenters for the old Præneste villa?"

This last was precisely what Drusus had had in mind. And so forth auntand nephew sallied. Some of the streets they visited were so narrowthat they had to send back even their litters; but everywhere thecrowds bowed such deference and respect to the Vestal's white robesthat their progress was easy. Drusus soon had given his orders tocabinet-makers and selected the frescoer's designs. It remained topurchase Cornelia's slave-boy. He wanted not merely an attractiveserving-lad, but one whose intelligence and probity could be reliedupon; and in the dealers' stalls not one of the dark orientals, although all had around their necks tablets with long lists ofencomiums, promised conscience or character. Drusus visited, severalvery choice boys that were exhibited in separate rooms, at fancyprices, but none of these pretty Greeks or Asiatics seemed promising. 

Deeply disgusted, he led Fabia away from the slave-market. 

"I will try to-morrow, " he said, vexed at his defeat. "I need a newtoga. Let us go to the shop on the Clivus Suburanus; there used to bea good woollen merchant, Lucius Marius, on the way to the PortaEsquilina. "

Accordingly the two went on in the direction indicated; but at thespot where the Clivus Suburanus was cut by the Vicus Longus, there wasso dense a crowd and so loud a hubbub, that their attendants could notclear a way. For a time it was impossible to see what was the matter. Street gamins were howling, and idle slaves and hucksters were pouringforth volleys of taunts and derision at some luckless wight. 

"Away with them! the whip-scoundrel! _Verbero!_"[51] yelled a lustyproduce-vender. "Lash him again! Tan his hide for him! Don't you enjoyit? Not accustomed to such rough handling, eh! my pretty sparrow?"

 [51] A coarse epithet. 

Fabia without the least hesitation thrust herself into thedirty-robed, foul-mouthed crowd. At sight of the Vestal's white dressand fillets the pack gave way before her, as a swarm of gnats at thewave of a hand. Drusus strode at her heels. 

It was a sorry enough sight that met them--though not uncommon in theage and place. Some wretched slave-boy, a slight, delicate fellow, hadbeen bound to the bars of a furca, and was being driven by two brutalexecutioners to the place of doom outside the gates. At thestreet-crossing he had sunk down, and all the blows of the driver'sscourge could not compel him to arise. He lay in the dust, writhingand moaning, with the great welts showing on his bare back, where thebrass knots of the lash had stripped away the cloth. 

"Release this boy! Cease to beat him!" cried Fabia, with a commandingmien, that made the crowd shrink further back; while the twoexecutioners looked stupid and sheepish, but did nothing. 

"Release this boy!" commanded the Vestal. "Dare you hesitate? Do youwish to undo yourselves by defying me?"

"Mercy, august lady, " cried Alfidius, --for the chief executioner washe, --with a supplicatory gesture. "If our mistress knows that hercommands are unexecuted, it is we, who are but slaves, that mustsuffer!"

"Who is your mistress?" demanded Fabia. 

"Valeria, wife of Lucius Calatinus. "

"Livia's precious mother!" whispered Drusus. "I can imagine her doinga thing like this. " Then aloud, "What has the boy done?"

"He dropped a murrhine vase, " was the answer. 

"And so he must be beaten to death!" exclaimed the young man, who, despite the general theory that most slaves were on a par with cattle, had much of the milk of human kindness in his nature. "_Phui!_ Whatbrutality! You must insist on your rights, aunt. Make them let himgo. "

Sulkily enough the executioners unbound the heavy furca. Agiasstaggered to his feet, too dazed really to know what deliverance hadbefallen him. 

"Why don't you thank the Vestal?" said Alfidius. "She has made usrelease you--you ungrateful dog!"

"Released? Saved?" gasped Agias, and he reeled as though his head werein a whirl. Then, as if recollecting his faculties, he fell down atFabia's feet, and kissed the hem of her robe. 

"The gods save us all now, " muttered Alfidius. "Valeria will swearthat we schemed to have the boy released. We shall never dare to faceher again!"

"Oh! do not send me back to that cruel woman!" moaned Agias. "Betterdie now, than go back to her and incur her anger again! Kill me, butdo not send me back!"

And he broke down again in inward agony. 

Drusus had been surveying the boy, and saw that though he was now in apitiable enough state, he had been good-looking; and that though hisback had been cruelly marred, his face had not been cut with thelashes. Perhaps the very fact that Agias had been the victim ofValeria, and the high contempt in which the young Drusian held hisdivorced stepmother, made him instinctively take the outraged boy'spart. 

"See here, " began Drusus, "were you to be whipped by orders ofCalatinus?"

"No, " moaned Agias; "Valeria gave the orders. My master was out. "

"Ha!" remarked Drusus to his aunt, "won't the good man be pleased toknow how his wife has killed a valuable slave in one of her tantrums?"Then aloud. "If I can buy you of Calatinus, and give you to the LadyCornelia, niece of Lentulus, the consul-elect, will you serve herfaithfully, will you make her wish the law of your life?"

"I will die for her!" cried Agias, his despair mingled with a ray ofhope. 

"Where is your master?"

"At the Forum, I think, soliciting votes, " replied the boy. 

"Well then, follow me, " said Drusus, "our road leads back to theForum. We may meet him. If I can arrange with him, your executionershave nothing to fear from Valeria. Come along. "

Agias followed, with his head again in a whirl. 

III

The little company worked its way back to the Forum, not, as now, ahalf-excavated ruin, the gazing-stock for excursionists, a commonplacewhereby to sum up departed greatness: the splendid buildings of theEmpire had not yet arisen, but the structures of the age were notunimposing. Here, in plain view, was the Capitoline Hill, crowned bythe Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus and the Arx. Here was the site ofthe Senate House, the Curia (then burned), in which the men who hadmade Rome mistress of the world had taken counsel. Every stone, everybasilica, had its history for Drusus--though, be it said, at themoment the noble past was little in his mind. And the historicenclosure was all swarming, beyond other places, with the dirty, bustling crowd, shoppers, hucksters, idlers. Drusus and his companysearched for Calatinus along the upper side of the Forum, past theRostra, the Comitium, [52] and the Temple of Saturn. Then they werealmost caught in the dense throng that was pouring into the plaza fromthe busy commercial thoroughfares of the Vicus Jugarius, or the VicusTuscus. But just as the party had almost completed their circuit ofthe square, and Drusus was beginning to believe that his benevolentintentions were leading him on a bootless errand, a man in aconspicuously white toga rushed out upon him from the steps of theTemple of Castor, embraced him violently, and imprinted a firm, garlic-flavoured kiss on both cheeks; crying at the same timeheartily:--

 [52] _Comitium_, assembly-place round the Rostra. 

"Oh, my dear Publius Dorso, I am so glad to meet you! How are all youraffairs up in Fidenæ?"

Drusus recoiled in some disgust, and began rubbing his outragedcheeks. 

"Dorso? Dorso? There is surely some mistake, my good man. I am knownas Quintus Drusus of Præneste. "

Before he had gotten further, his assailant was pounding and shaking afrightened-looking slave-lad who had stood at his elbow. 

"The gods blast you, you worthless _nomenclator_![53] You haveforgotten the worthy gentleman's name, and have made me play the fool!You may have lost me votes! All Rome will hear of this! I shall be acommon laughing-stock! _Hei! vah!_ But I'll teach you to behave!" Andhe shook the wretched boy until the latter's teeth rattled. 

 [53] Great men, and candidates for office who wished to "know" everybody, kept smart slaves at their elbow to whisper strangers' names in their ears. Sometimes the slaves themselves were at fault. 

At this instant a young man of faultless toilet, whom we have alreadyrecognized as Lucius Ahenobarbus, pushed into the little knot as apeacemaker. 

"Most excellent Calatinus, " said he, half suppressing his laughter atthe candidate's fury, the nomenclator's anguish, and Drusus's vexedconfusion, "allow me to introduce to you a son of Sextus Drusus, whowas an old friend of my father's. This is Quintus Drusus, if in a fewyears I have not forgotten his face; and this, my dear Quintus, is mygood friend Lucius Calatinus, who would be glad of your vote andinfluence to help on his candidacy as tribune. "

The atmosphere was cleared instantly. Calatinus forgot his anger, inorder to apologize in the most obsequious manner for his headlongsalutation. Drusus, pleased to find the man he had been seeking, forgave the vile scent of the garlic, and graciously accepted theexplanation. Then the way was open to ask Calatinus whether he waswilling to dispose of Agias. The crestfallen candidate was only toohappy to do something to put himself right with the person he hadoffended. Loudly he cursed his wife's temper, that would have wasted aslave worth a "hundred thousand sesterces" to gratify a mere burst ofpassion. 

"Yes, he was willing to sell the boy to accommodate his excellency, Quintus Drusus, " said Calatinus, "although he was a valuable slave. Still, in honesty he had to admit that Agias had some mischievouspoints. Calatinus had boxed his ears only the day before for lickingthe pastry. But, since his wife disliked the fellow, he would beconstrained to sell him, if a purchaser would take him. "

The result of the conference was that Drusus, who had inherited thatkeen eye for business which went with most of his race, purchasedAgias for thirty thousand sesterces, considerably less than the boywould have brought in the market. 

While Drusus was handing over a money order payable with Flaccus, Lucius Ahenobarbus again came forward, with all seeming friendliness. 

"My dear Quintus, " said he, "Marcus Læca has commissioned me to find aninth guest to fill his _triclinium_[54] this evening. We should bedelighted if you would join us. I don't know what the good Marcus willoffer us to-night, but you can be sure of a slice of peacock[55] and afew other nice bits. "

 [54] Dining room with couch seats for nine, the regular size. 

 [55] The _ne plus ultra_ of Roman gastronomy at the time. 

"I am very grateful, " replied Drusus, who felt all the while thatLucius Ahenobarbus was the last man in the world with whom he cared tospend an evening's carousing; "but, " and here he concocted a whitelie, "an old friend I met in Athens has already invited me to spendthe night, and I cannot well refuse him. I thank you for yourinvitation. "

Lucius muttered some polite and conventional terms of regret, and fellback to join Servius Flaccus and Gabinius, who were near him. 

"I invited him and he refused, " he said half scornfully, halfbitterly. "That little minx, Cornelia, has been complaining of me tohim, I am sure. The gods ruin him! If he wishes to become my enemy, he'll have good cause to fear my bite. "

"You say he's from Præneste, " said Gabinius, "and yet can he speakdecent Latin? Doesn't he say '_conia_' for '_ciconia_, ' and'_tammodo_' for '_tantummodo_'_?_ I wonder you invite such a boor. "

"Oh! he can speak good enough Latin, " said Lucius. "But I invited himbecause he is rich; and it might be worth our while to make himgamble. "

"Rich!" lisped Servius Flaccus. "Rich (h)as my (h)uncle the broker?That silly straightlac(h)ed fellow, who's (h)a C(h)ato, (h)or worse?For shame!"

"Well, " said Lucius, "old Crassus used to say that no one who couldn'tpay out of his own purse for an army was rich. But though Drususcannot do quite that, he has enough sesterces to make happy men ofmost of us, if his fortune were mine or yours. "

"(H)its (h)an (h)outrage for him to have (h)it, " cried ServiusFlaccus. 

"It's worse than an outrage, " replied Ahenobarbus; "it's a sheerblunder of the Fates. Remind me to tell you about Drusus and hisfortune, before I have drunk too much to-night. "

 * * * * *

Agias went away rejoicing with his new master. Drusus owned anapartment house on the Vicus Longus, and there had a furnished suiteof rooms. He gave Agias into the charge of the porter[56] and orderedhim to dress the boy's wounds. Cappadox waited on his master when helunched. 

 [56] Porter--_Insularius. _

"Master Quintus, " said he, with the familiar air of a privilegedservant, "did you see that knavish-looking Gabinius following MadameFabia all the way back to the Temple of Vesta?"

"No, " said Drusus; "what do you mean, you silly fellow?"

"Oh, nothing, " said Cappadox, humbly. "I only thought it a littlequeer. "

"Perhaps so, " said his master, carelessly. 

Chapter IV

Lucius Ahenobarbus Airs His Grievance

I

The pomp and gluttony of Roman banquets have been too often describedto need repetition here; neither would we be edified by learning allthe orgies that Marcus Læca (an old Catilinian conspirator) and hiseight guests indulged in that night: only after the dinner had beencleared, and before the Gadesian[57] dancing girls were called in, thedice began to rattle, and speedily all were engrossed in drink andplay. 

 [57] From Cadiz, Spain. 

Lucius Ahenobarbus soon lost so heavily that he was cursing every godthat presided over the noble game. 

"I am ruined next Ides, " he groaned. "Phormio the broker has onlycontinued my loan at four per cent a month. All my villas andfurniture are mortgaged, and will be sold at auction. _Mehercle_, destruction stares me in the face!"

"Well, well, my dear fellow, " said Pratinas, who, having won thestakes, was in a mood to be sympathetic, "we must really see what canbe done to remedy matters. "

"I can see nothing!" was his answer. 

"Won't your father come to the rescue?" put in Gabinius, between deeppulls on a beaker. 

"My father!" snapped Ahenobarbus. "Never a sesterce will I get out ofhim! He's as good as turned me adrift, and Cato my uncle is alwaysgiving him bad reports of me, like the hypocritical Stoic that Catois. "

"By the bye, " began Gabinius again, putting down the wine-cup, "youhinted to-day that you had been cheated out of a fortune, after amanner. Something about that Drusus of Præneste, if I recollect. What's the story?"

Lucius settled down on his elbow, readjusted the cushions on thebanqueting couch, and then began, interrupted by many a hiccoughbecause of his potations. 

"It is quite a story, but I won't bore you with details. It has quiteas much to do with Cornelia, Lentulus Crus's pretty niece, as withDrusus himself. Here it is in short. Sextus Drusus and Caius Lentuluswere such good friends that, as you know, they betrothed their son anddaughter when the latter were mere children. To make the compactdoubly strong, Sextus Drusus inserted in his will a clause like this:'Let my son Quintus enjoy the use of my estate and its income, untilhe become twenty-five and cease to be under the care of Flaccus his_tutor_. [58] If he die before that time, let his property go toCornelia, the daughter of Caius Lentulus, except;' and here Sextusleft a small legacy for his own young daughter, Livia. You see Drususcan make no will until he is five-and-twenty. But then comes anotherprovision. 'If Cornelia shall marry any person save my son, my sonshall at once be free to dispose of my estates. ' So Cornelia is laidunder a sort of obligation also to marry Quintus. The whole aim of thewill is to make it very hard for the young people to fail to wed astheir fathers wished. "

 [58] Commercial adviser required for young men under five-and-twenty. 

"True, " said Gabinius; "but how such an arrangement can affect you andyour affairs, I really cannot understand. "

"That is so, " continued Ahenobarbus, "but here is the other side ofthe matter. Caius Lentulus was a firm friend of Sextus Drusus; he alsowas very close and dear to my father. Caius desired that Cornelia wedyoung Drusus, and so enjoined her in his will; but out of complimentto my father, put in a clause which was something like this: 'IfQuintus Drusus die before he marry Cornelia, or refuse to marryCornelia at the proper time, then let Cornelia and all her property begiven to Lucius, the second son of my dearly loved friend, LuciusDomitius Ahenobarbus, ' Now I think you will begin to see why QuintusDrusus's affairs interest me a little. If he refuse to marry Corneliabefore he be five-and-twenty, she falls to me. But I understand thatLentulus, her uncle, is badly in debt, and her dowry won't be much. But if Drusus is not married to her, and die before he is twenty-five, _his property is hers and she is mine. _ Do you understand why I have alittle grudge against him?"

"For what?" cried Læca, with breathless interest. 

"For living!" sighed Ahenobarbus, hopelessly. 

The handsome face of Pratinas was a study. His nostrils dilated; hislips quivered; his eyes were bright and keen with what evidentlypassed in his mind for a great discovery. 

"Eureka!" cried the Greek, clapping his hands. "My dear Lucius, let mecongratulate you! You are saved!"

"What?" exclaimed the young man, starting up. 

"You are saved!" repeated Pratinas, all animation. "Drusus's sestercesshall be yours! Every one of them!"

Lucius Ahenobarbus was a debauchee, a mere creature of pleasure, without principle or character; but even he had a revulsion of spiritat the hardly masked proposal of the enthusiastic Greek. He flushed inspite of the wine, then turned pale, then stammered, "Don't mentionsuch a thing, Pratinas. I was never Drusus's enemy. I dare not dreamof such a move. The Gods forefend!"

"The Gods?" repeated Pratinas, with a cynical intonation. "Do youbelieve there are any?"

"Do you?" retorted Lucius, feeling all the time that a deadlytemptation had hold of him, which he could by no means resist. 

"Why?" said the Greek. "Your Latin Ennius states my view, in some ofyour rather rough and blundering native tetrameters. He says:--

 "'There's a race of gods in heaven; so I've said and still will say. But I deem that we poor mortals do not come beneath their sway. Otherwise the good would triumph, whereas evil reigns to-day. '"

"And you advise?" said Ahenobarbus, leaning forward with pent-upexcitement. 

"I advise?" replied Pratinas; "I am only a poor ignorant Hellene, andwho am I, to give advice to Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, a most noblemember of the most noble of nations!"

If Pratinas had said: "My dear Lucius, you are a thick-headed, old-fashioned, superstitious Roman, whom I, in my superior wisdom, utterly despise, " he would have produced about the same effect uponyoung Ahenobarbus. 

But Lucius still fluttered vainly, --a very weak conscience whisperingthat Drusus had never done him any harm; that murder was a dangerousgame, and that although his past life had been bad enough, he hadnever made any one--unless it were a luckless slave or two--the victimof bloodthirsty passion or rascality. 

"Don't propose it, " he groaned. "I don't dare to think of such athing! What disgrace and trouble, if it should all come out!"

"Come, come, Ahenobarbus, " thrust in Marcus Læca, who had beeneducated in Catilina's school for polite villains and cut-throats. "Pratinas is only proposing what, if you were a man of spirit, wouldhave been done long ago. You can't complain of Fortune, when she's puta handsome estate in your hands for the asking. "

"My admirable fellow, " said Pratinas, benevolently, "I highly applaudyour scruples. But, permit me to say it, I must ask you to defer to meas being a philosopher. Let us look at the matter in a rational way. We have gotten over any bogies which our ancestors had about Hades, orthe punishments of the wicked. In fact, what we know--as goodEpicureans--is that, as Democritus of Abdera[59] early taught, thisworld of ours is composed of a vast number of infinitely small andindivisible atoms, which have by some strange hap come to take theforms we see in the world of life and matter. Now the soul of man isalso of atoms, only they are finer and more subtile. At death theseatoms are dissolved, and so far as that man is concerned, all is overwith him. The atoms may recombine, or join with others, but never formanew that same man. Hence we may fairly conclude that this life iseverything and death ends all. Do you follow, and see to what I amleading?"

 [59] Born about 470 B. C. 

"I think so, " said the wretched Lucius, feeling himself like a birdcaught in a snare, yet not exactly grasping the direct bearing of allthis learned exposition. 

"My application is this, " went on Pratinas, glibly. "Life is all--alleither for pleasure or pain. Therefore every man has a right toextract all the sweetness he can out of it. But suppose a mandeliberately makes himself gloomy, extracts no joy from life; letshimself be overborne by care and sorrow, --is not such a man betterdead than living? Is not a dreamless sleep preferable to misery oreven cold asceticism? And how much more does this all apply when wesee a man who makes himself unhappy, preventing by his very act ofexistence the happiness of another more equably tempered mortal! Now Ibelieve this is the present case. Drusus, I understand, is leading aspare, joyless, workaday sort of existence, which is, or by everyhuman law should be, to him a burden. So long as he lives, he preventsyou from enjoying the means of acquiring pleasure. Now I have Socratesof imperishable memory on my side, when I assert that death under anycircumstances is either no loss or a very great gain. Considering thenthe facts of the case in its philosophic and rational bearings, I maysay this: Not merely would it be no wrong to remove Drusus from aworld in which he is evidently out of place, but I even conceive suchan act to rise to the rank of a truly meritorious deed. "

Lucius Ahenobarbus was conquered. He could not resist the inexorablelogic of this train of reasoning, all the premises of which he fullyaccepted. Perhaps, we should add, he was not very unwilling to havehis wine-befuddled intellect satisfied, and his conscience stilled. Heturned down a huge beaker of liquor, and coughed forth:--

"Right as usual, Pratinas! By all the gods, but I believe you can saveme!"

"Yes; as soon as Drusus is dead, " insinuated the Greek who was alreadycomputing his bill for brokerage in this little affair, "you can raiseplenty of loans, on the strength of your coming marriage withCornelia. "

"But how will you manage it?" put in the alert Gabinius. "Theremustn't be any clumsy bungling. "

"Rest assured, " said Pratinas, with a grave dignity, perhaps theresult of his drinking, "that in my affairs I leave no room forbungling. "

"And your plan is--" asked Lucius. 

"Till to-morrow, friend, " said the Greek; "meet me at the Temple ofSaturn, just before dusk. Then I'll be ready. "

II

Lucius Ahenobarbus's servants escorted their tipsy master home to hislodgings in a fashionable apartment house on the Esquiline. When heawoke, it was late the next day, and head and wits were both sadly theworse for the recent entertainment. Finally a bath and a luncheoncleared his brain, and he realized his position. He was on the brinkof concocting a deliberate murder. Drusus had never wronged him; thecrime would be unprovoked; avarice would be its only justification. Ahenobarbus had done many things which a far laxer code of ethics thanthat of to-day would frown upon; but, as said, he had never committedmurder--at least had only had crucified those luckless slaves, who didnot count. He roused with a start, as from a dream. What if Pratinaswere wrong? What if there were really gods, and furies, andpunishments for the wicked after death? And then came the other sideof the shield: a great fortune his; all his debts paid off; unlimitedchances for self-enjoyment; last, but not least, Cornelia his. She hadslighted him, and turned her back upon all his advances; and now whatperfect revenge! Lucius was more in love with Cornelia than headmitted even to himself. He would even give up Clyte, if he couldpossess her. And so the mental battle went on all day; and the prickof conscience, the fears of superstition, and the lingerings ofreligion ever grew fainter. Near nightfall he was at his post, at theTemple of Saturn. Pratinas was awaiting him. The Greek had only a fewwords of greeting, and the curt injunction:--"Draw your cloak up toshield your face, and follow me. " Then they passed out from the Forum, forced their way through the crowded streets, and soon were throughthe _Porta Ratumena, _ outside the walls, and struck out across theCampus Martius, upon the Via Flaminia. It was rapidly darkening. Thehouses grew fewer and fewer. At a little distance the dim structuresof the Portico and Theatre of Pompeius could be seen, looming up to anexaggerated size in the evening haze. A grey fog was drifting up fromthe Tiber, and out of a rift in a heavy cloud-bank a beam of theimprisoned moon was struggling. Along the road were peasants withtheir carts and asses hastening home. Over on the Pincian Mount thedark green masses of the splendid gardens of Pompeius and of Luculluswere just visible. The air was filled with the croak of frogs and thechirp of crickets, and from the river came the creak of the sculls andpaddles of a cumbrous barge that was working its way down the Tiber. 

Ahenobarbus felt awed and uncomfortable. Pratinas, with his mantlewrapped tightly around his head, continued at a rapid pace. Lucius hadleft his attendants at home, and now began to recall gruesome tales ofhighwaymen and bandits frequenting this region after dark. His fearswere not allayed by noticing that underneath his himation Pratinasoccasionally let the hilt of a short sword peep forth. Still the Greekkept on, never turning to glance at a filthy, half-clad beggar, whowhined after them for an alms, and who did not so much as throw a kissafter the young Roman when the latter tossed forth a denarius, [60] butsnatched up the coin, muttered at its being no more, and vanished intothe gathering gloom. 

 [60] Four sesterces, 16 cents. 

"Where are you leading me?" asked Ahenobarbus, a second time, afterall his efforts to communicate with the usually fluent Greek met withonly monosyllables. 

"To the _lanista_[61] Dumnorix, " replied Pratinas, quickening analready rapid pace. 

 [61] Keeper of a school of gladiators. 

"And his barracks are--?"

"By the river, near the Mulvian bridge. "

At length a pile of low square buildings was barely visible in thehaze. It was close to the Tiber, and the rush of the water against thepiling of the bridge was distinctly audible. As the two drew near to aclosed gateway, a number of mongrel dogs began to snap and bark aroundthem. From within the building came the roar of coarse hilarity andcoarser jests. As Pratinas approached the solidly barred doorway, agrating was pushed aside and a rude voice demanded:--

"Your business? What are you doing here?"

"Is Dumnorix sober?" replied Pratinas, nothing daunted. "If so, tellhim to come and speak with me. I have something for his advantage. "

Either Pratinas was well known at the gladiators' school, or somethingin his speech procured favour. There was a rattling of chains andbolts, and the door swung open. A man of unusual height and ponderousproportions appeared in the opening. That was all which could be seenin the semi-darkness. 

"You are Pratinas?" he asked, speaking Latin with a northern accent. The Hellene nodded, and replied softly: "Yes. No noise. Tell Dumnorixto come quietly. "

The two stepped in on to the flags of a courtyard, and the doorkeeper, after rebolting, vanished into the building. Ahenobarbus could onlysee that he was standing in a large stone-paved court, perhaps onehundred and forty feet wide and considerably longer. A colonnade oflow whitewashed pillars ran all about: and behind them stretched rowsof small rooms and a few larger apartments. There were _tyros_practising with wooden swords in one of the rooms, whence a lightstreamed, and a knot of older gladiators was urging them on, mocking, praising, and criticising their efforts. Now and then a burlygladiator would stroll across the court; but the young noble and hisescort remained hidden in shadow. 

Presently a door opened at the other end of the courtyard, and someone with a lantern began to come toward the entrance. Long before thestranger was near, Ahenobarbus thought he was rising like a giant outof the darkness; and when at last Dumnorix--for it was he--was closeat hand, both Roman and Greek seemed veritable dwarfs beside him. 

Dumnorix--so far as he could be seen in the lantern light--was asplendid specimen of a northern giant. He was at least six feet fiveinches in height, and broad proportionately. His fair straight hairtumbled in disorder over his shoulders, and his prodigiously longmustaches seemed, to the awed Ahenobarbus, almost to curl down to hisneck. His breath came in hot pants like a winded horse, and when hespoke, it was in short Latin monosyllables, interlarded withoutlandish Gallic oaths. He wore cloth trousers with bright stripes ofred and orange; a short-sleeved cloak of dark stuff, falling down tothe thigh; and over the cloak, covering back and shoulders, anothersleeveless mantle, clasped under the chin with a huge golden buckle. At his right thigh hung, from a silver set girdle, by weighty bronzechains, a heavy sabre, of which the steel scabbard banged noisily asits owner advanced. 

"Holla! Pratinas, " cried the Gaul, as he came close. "By the holy oak!but I'm glad to see you! Come to my room. Have a flagon of our goodnorthern mead. "

"Hist, " said the Greek, cautiously. "Not so boisterous. Better stayhere in the dark. I can't tell who of your men may hear us. "

"As you say, " said Dumnorix, setting down the light at a littledistance and coming closer. 

"You remember that little affair of last year, " said Pratinas, continuing;--"how you helped me get rid of a witness in a verytroublesome law case?"

"Ha! ha!" chuckled the giant, "I wish I had the sesterces I won then, in my coffer now. "

"Well, " replied Pratinas, "I don't need to tell you what I and mynoble friend here--Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus--have come for. Alittle more business along the same line. Are you our man?"

"I should say so, " answered Dumnorix, with a grin worthy of a baboon. "Only make it worth my while. "

"Now, " said Pratinas, sinking his voice still lower, "this affair ofours will pay you well; but it is more delicate than the other. Ablunder will spoil it all. You must do your best; and we will do thefair thing by you. "

"Go on, " said the Gaul, folding his huge paws on his breast. 

"Have you ever been in Præneste?" questioned Pratinas. 

"I matched two _mirmillones_[62] of mine there against two_threces_[63] of another lanista, and my dogs won the prize; but Ican't say that I am acquainted with the place, " answered the other. 

 [62] Gladiators equipped as Gaulish warriors. 

 [63] Buckler men. 

"You should find out, then, " said Pratinas, "for here lies your work. "And then he proceeded, with occasional prompting from thebetter-informed Ahenobarbus, to point out the location of Drusus'sestate, and the character and habits of the man whom Dumnorix wascheerfully proposing to put out of the way. Dumnorix assented and badehim go on, with hoarse grunts; and when the Greek had concluded, growled out in his barbarous Latin:--

"But why all this pother? Why not let me send a knave or two and knockthe fellow some dark night in the head? It will save us both time andtrouble. "

"My excellent master of the gladiators, " said Pratinas, as smoothly asever, "you must not take it ill, if I tell you that to have a takingoff such as you propose would be a very bad thing both for you and themost noble Ahenobarbus. This Drusus is not a helpless wight, withoutfriends, waiting to become the fair prey of any dagger man. [64] He hasfriends, I have learned, who, if he were to be disposed of in such arude and bungling manner, would not fail to probe deeply into thewhole thing. Flaccus the great banker, notably, would spare no painsto bring the responsibility of the matter home, not merely to the poorwretch who struck the blow, but the persons who placed the weapon inhis hands. All of which would be very awkward for Ahenobarbus. No, your rough-and-ready plan won't in the least work. "

 [64] _Sicarius_. 

"Well, " replied Dumnorix, testily, "I'm a man of shallow wits and hardblows. If I had been of keener mind, the gods know, I would have beena free chief among the Nervii, instead of making sport for thesestraw-limbed Romans. If what I propose won't answer, what can bedone?"

"A great deal, " said Pratinas, who knew perfectly how to cringe low, yet preserve his ascendency; "first of all, it is very necessary thatthe murderers of the amiable Drusus should receive a meet reward fortheir crime--that justice should be speedy and severe. "

"Man!" cried Dumnorix, griping the Greek's arm in his tremendousclutch. "What are you asking?"

"By Zeus!" burst out Pratinas, rubbing his crushed member. "What agrip is yours! Don't be alarmed. Surely you would be as willing tohave one or two of your newest _tiros_ hung on a cross, as stabbed onthe arena--especially when it will pay a great deal better?"

"I don't follow you, " said the Gaul, though a little reassured. 

"Simply this, " said Pratinas, who evidently felt that he was coming tothe revealing of an especially brilliant piece of _finesse_. "Mygeneral proposal is this. Let you and your company march throughPræneste, --of course carefully timing your march so as to find theinnocent and unfortunate Drusus at his farm. You will have a verydisorderly band of gladiators, and they begin to attack Drusus'sorchard, and maltreat his slaves. You try to stop them, --withoutavail. Finally, in a most unfortunate and outrageous outbreak theyslay the master of the house. The tumult is quelled. The heirs proceedagainst you. You can only hand over the murderers for crucifixion, andoffer to pay any money damages that may be imposed. A heavy fine islaid upon you, as being responsible for the killing of Drusus by yourslaves. You pay the damages. Ahenobarbus marries Cornelia and entersupon the estate. The world says that all that can be done to atone forDrusus's murder has been done. All of the guilty are punished. Thedead cannot be recalled. The matter is at an end. Ahenobarbus has whathe wished for; you have all the money you paid in damages quietlyrefunded; also the cost of the poor rascals crucified, and a fair sumover and above for your trouble. "

"By the god Belew!"[65] cried the enthusiastic Dumnorix. "What aclever plan! How the world will be cheated! Ha! ha! How sharp youlittle Greeks must be. Only I must have fair return for my work, andan oath that the business shall never be coming to the point of givingmy eyes to the crows. I can't risk my life in anything but a squarefight. "

 [65] The Gallic sun-god. 

"Well, " said Pratinas, after a few words with his companion, "how willthis proposition suit you? All expenses, before and after the affairitself, of course refunded; one hundred thousand sesterces clear gainfor doing the deed, twenty-five thousand sesterces for every poorfellow we have to nail up to satisfy the law, and you to be guaranteedagainst any evil consequence. Is this sufficient?"

"I think so, " growled Dumnorix, in his mustaches, "but I must have theoath. "

"The oath?" said Pratinas, "oh, certainly!" and the Greek raised hishands toward heaven, and muttered some words to the effect that "if heand his friend did not fulfil their oath, let Zeus, the regarder ofoaths, destroy them, " etc. , etc. --an imprecation which certainly, sofar as words went, was strong enough to bind the most graceless. Thenhe proceeded to arrange with Dumnorix how the latter should wait untilit was known Drusus had gone back to Præneste, and was likely to staythere for some time; as to how many gladiators the lanista was to haveready. Dumnorix complained that the rather recent law against keepinggladiators at Rome prevented him from assembling in his school anyconsiderable number. But out of his heterogeneous collection of Gauls, Germans, Spaniards, Greeks, and Asiatics he would find enough whocould be used for the purpose without letting them know the fullintent with which they were launched against Drusus. At all events, iftheir testimony was taken, it would have to be as slaves on the rack;and if they accused their master of instigating them to riot, it waswhat any person would expect of such degraded and lying wretches. So, after promising to come again with final word and some bags ofearnest-money, Pratinas parted with the lanista, and he and LuciusAhenobarbus found themselves again in the now entirely darkened CampusMartius. Lucius again feared brigands, but they fell in with nounpleasant nocturnal wayfarers, and reached the city without incident. Ahenobarbus seemed to himself to be treading on air--Cornelia, villas, Drusus's money--these were dancing in his head in a delightfulconfusion. He had abandoned himself completely to the sway ofPratinas; the Greek was omniscient, was invincible, was a greater thanOdysseus. Ahenobarbus hardly dared to think for himself as to the planwhich his friend had arranged for him. One observation, however, hemade before they parted. 

"You swore that Dumnorix should get into no trouble. May it not proveexpensive to keep him out of difficulty?"

"My dear Lucius, " replied Pratinas, "in cases of that kind there is aline from the Hippolytus of the immortal tragedian Euripides, whichindicates the correct attitude for a philosopher and a man ofdiscretion to assume. It runs thus, --

 "'My tongue an oath took, but my mind's unsworn. '

Not an inelegant sentiment, as you must see. "

III

We left the excellent man of learning, Pisander, in no happy frame ofmind, after Agias had been dragged away, presumably to speedy doom. And indeed for many days the shadow of Valeria's crime, for it wasnothing else, plunged him in deep melancholy. Pisander was not a fool, only amongst his many good qualities he did not possess that of beingable to make a success in life. He had been tutor to a young Asiaticprince, and had lost his position by a local revolution; then he haddrifted to Alexandria, and finally Rome, where he had struggled firstto teach philosophy, and found no pupils to listen to his lectures;then to conduct an elementary school, but his scholars' parents werebackward in paying even the modest fees he charged. Finally, in sheerdespair, to keep from starving, he accepted the position as Valeria's"house-philosopher. "

His condition was infinitely unsatisfactory for a variety of reasons. The good lady wished him to be at her elbow, ready to read from thephilosophers or have on hand a talk on ethics or metaphysics todeliver extempore. Besides, though not a slave or freedman, he faredin the household much worse sometimes than they. A slave stole thedainties, and drained a beaker of costly wine on the sly. Pisander, like Thales, who was so intent looking at the stars that he fell intoa well, "was so eager to know what was going on in heaven that hecould not see what was before his feet. "[66] And consequently the poorpedant dined on the remnants left after his employer and her husbandhad cleared the board; and had rancid oil and sour wine given him, when they enjoyed the best. The slaves had snubbed him and made fun ofhim; the freedmen regarded him with absolute disdain; Valeria'sregular visitors treated him as a nonentity. Besides, all hisstandards of ethical righteousness were outraged by the round of lifewhich he was compelled daily to witness. The worthy man would longbefore have ceased from a vassalage so disgraceful, had he possessedany other means of support. Once he meditated suicide, but was scaredout of it by the thought that his bones would moulder in those hugepits on the Esquiline--far from friend or native land--where artisans, slaves, and cattle, creatures alike without means of decent burial, were left under circumstances unspeakably revolting to moulder away todust. 

 [66] See Plato's "Theætetus, " 174. 

The day of Agias's misfortune, Pisander sat in his corner of theboudoir, after Valeria had left it, in a very unphilosophical rage, gnawing his beard and cursing inwardly his mistress, Pratinas, and theworld in general. 

Arsinoë with a pale, strained face was moving about, replacing thebottles of cosmetics and perfumery in cabinets and caskets. Pisanderhad been kind to Arsinoë, and had taught her to read; and there was afairly firm friendship between the slave and the luckless man, whofelt himself degraded by an equal bondage. 

"Poor Agias, " muttered Pisander. 

"Poor Agias, " repeated Arsinoë, mournfully; then in some scorn, "Come, Master Pisander, now is the time to console yourself with yourphilosophy. Call out everything, --your Zeno, or Parmenides, orHeraclitus, or others of the thousand nobodies I've heard you praiseto Valeria, --and make thereby my heart a jot the less sore, or Agias'sdeath the less bitter! Don't sit there and snap at your beard, if yourphilosophy is good for anything! People used to pray to the gods introuble, but you philosophers turn the gods into mists or thin air. You are a man! You are free! Do something! Say something!"

"But what can I do?" groaned Pisander, bursting into tears, andwishing for the instant Epicureans, Stoics, Eclectics, Peripatetics, and every other school of learning in the nethermost Hades. 

"_Phui!_ Fudge!" cried Arsinoë. "What is life made for then, if a manwho has spent all his days studying it is as good as helpless! Look atme! Have I not hands, feet, a head, and wits? Am I not as wellinformed and naturally capable as three fine ladies out of every four?Would I not look as handsome as they, if I had a chance to wear theirdresses and jewels? Have I any blemish, any defect, that makes mecease to be a woman, and become a thing? Bah, master _Pisander!_ I amonly a slave, but I will talk. Why does my blood boil at the fate ofAgias, if it was not meant that it should heat up for some end? Andyet I am as much a piece of property of that woman whom I hate, asthis chair or casket. I have a right to no hope, no ambition, nodesire, no reward. I can only aspire to live without brutal treatment. That would be a sort of Elysium. If I was brave enough, I would killmyself, and go to sleep and forget it all. But I am weak and cowardly, and so--here I am. "

Pisander only groaned and went away to his room to turn over hisAristotle, and wonder why nothing in the "Nicomachean Ethics" or anyother learned treatise contained the least word that made himcontented over the fate of Agias or his own unhappy situation. Arsinoëand Semiramis, when he went from them, cried, and cried again, in pityand helpless grief at their whole situation. And so a considerablenumber of days passed. Calatinus could have given joy to the hearts ofseveral in his household if he had simply remembered that Agias hadnot been scourged to death, but sold. But Calatinus feared, now thathe was well out of the matter, to stir up an angry scene with hiswife, by hinting that Agias had not been punished according to herorders. Alfidius, too, and the other slaves with him, imagined thathis mistress would blame them if they admitted that Agias was alive. So the household gathered, by the silence of all concerned, that thebright Greek boy had long since passed beyond power of human torment. Pisander recovered part of his equanimity, and Arsinoë and Semiramisbegan to see life a shade less darkened. 

Pratinas occasionally repeated his morning calls upon Valeria. Heseemed much engrossed with business, but was always the same suave, elegant, accomplished personage that had endeared him to that lady'sheart. One morning he came in, in unusually good spirits. "Congratulate me, " he exclaimed, after saluting Valeria; "I havedisposed of a very delicate piece of work, and my mind can take alittle rest. At least I have roughly chiselled out the matter, as asculptor would say, and can now wait a bit before finishing. Ah! whatelegant study is this which is engrossing your ladyship this morning?"

"Pisander is reading from the works of Gorgias of Leontini, " saidValeria, languidly. 

"To be sure, " went on Pratinas; "I have always had the greatestrespect for the three nihilistic propositions of that philosopher. Toread him one is half convinced of the affirmation that nothing exists;that if anything existed, the fact could not be known, and that if thefact were known, it could not be communicated; although of course, mydear madam, there are very grave objections to accepting such views intheir fulness. "

"Of course, " echoed Valeria. "Pisander, read Pratinas that little poemof Archilochus, whose sentiment I so much admired, when I happened onit yesterday. "

Pisander fumbled among his rolls, then read, perhaps throwing a bit ofsarcasm into his tone:--

 "Gyges'[67] wealth and honours great Come not nigh to me! Heavenly pow'r, or tyrant's state, I'll not envy thee. Swift let any sordid prize Fade and vanish from my eyes!"

 [67] A Lydian king whose wealth was placed on a par with that of the better known Croesus. 

"Your ladyship, " said Pratinas, appearing entranced by the lines, "isever in search of the pearls of refined expression!"

"I wish, " said Valeria, whose mind ran from Gorgias to Archilochus, and then back to quite foreign matters, with lightning rapidity, "youwould tell Kallias, the sculptor, that the head-dress on my statue inthe atrium must be changed. I don't arrange my hair that way anylonger. He must put on a new head-dress without delay. "[68]

 [68] Such alterations were actually made in Rome. 

"Certainly, " assented the Greek. 

"And now, " said the lady, half entreating, half insinuating, "_youmust_ tell me what has made you so abstracted lately; that businessyou mentioned, which compelled you to restrict your calls. "

"My dear Valeria, " said Pratinas, casting a glance over at Pisander inhis corner, "I dislike mysteries; but perhaps there are some thingswhich I had better not reveal to any one. Don't be offended, but--"

"I am offended, " exclaimed the lady, striking her lap with her hands, "and I accept no '_buts_. ' I will be as silent about all your affairsas about the mysteries of the _Bona Dea_. [69]"

 [69] To whose mysteries only women were admitted. 

"I believe I can be confident you will not betray me, " said Pratinas, who in fact considered precautions that were necessary to take amongso blundering and thick-witted people as the Latins, almostsuperfluous. He muttered to himself, "I wouldn't dare to do this inAlexandria, --prate of a murder, --" and then glanced again towardPisander. 

"Pisander, " said Valeria, sharply, noting Pratinas's disquietude, "goout of the room. I don't need you at present. "

Pisander, unlike many contemporaries, was affected by a sensitiveconscience. But if there was one man whom he despised to the bottom ofhis soul, it was Pratinas. Pratinas had lorded it over him andpatronized him, in a way which drove the mild-tempered man of learningto desperation. The spirit of evil entered into the heart of Pisanderas he left the room. The average chatter of Pratinas and Valeria hadbeen gall and wormwood to him, and he had been glad enough to evadeit; but here was Pratinas with a secret which he clearly did not wishPisander to know. And Pisander, prompted by most unphilosophicalmotives, resolved within himself to play the eavesdropper. The boudoirwas approached by three doors, one from the peristylium, one fromValeria's private sleeping chamber, one from the servants' quarters. Pisander went out through the first, and going through other rooms tothe third, took his station by that entrance. He met Arsinoë, and tookthe friendly maid into his plot, by stationing her on guard to preventthe other servants from interfering with him. Then applying his ear tothe large keyhole of the door, he could understand all that waspassing in the boudoir. What Pratinas was saying it is hardlynecessary to repeat. The Greek was relating with infinite zest, and toValeria's intense delight and amusement, the story of the two willswhich placed Drusus's estate and the hand of Cornelia within reach ofLucius Ahenobarbus; of the manner in which this last young man hadbeen induced to take steps to make way with an unfortunate rival. Finally, in a low, half-audible tone, he told of the provisionalarrangements with Dumnorix, and how very soon the plan was to be putin execution. 

"And you must be sure and tell me, " cried Valeria, clapping her handswhen Pratinas concluded, "what the details of the affair all are, andwhen and how you succeed. Poor Quintus Drusus! I am really sorry forhim. But when one doesn't make use of what Fortune has given him, there is nothing else to do!"

"Yes, " said Pratinas, sententiously. "He who fails to realize what isfor him the highest good, forfeits, thereby, the right to lifeitself. "

Pisander slipped away from the keyhole, with a white face, and pantingfor breath. Briefly, he repeated what he had gathered to Arsinoë, thenblurted out:--

"I will go in and meet that well-oiled villain face to face. By Zeus!I will make him feel the depths of an honest man's scorn andindignation!"

"You will be a fool, " replied Arsinoë, quietly, "if you do. Valeriawould instantly dismiss you from her service. "

"I will go at once to Drusus, " asserted Pisander. 

"Drusus may or may not be convinced that what you say is true, "answered the girl; "but he, I gather from what you repeat, has justgone back to Præneste. Before you could reach Præneste, you are a deadman. "

"How so?" demanded the excited philosopher, brandishing his fists. "Iam as strong as Pratinas. "

"How little wisdom, " commented Arsinoë, "you do gather from yourbooks! Can't you see Pratinas is a reckless scoundrel--with everygladiator in Dumnorix's school at his call if needs be--who would stopat nothing to silence promptly the mouth of a dangerous witness? Thisisn't worse than many another case. Don't share the ruin of a man whois an utter stranger! We have troubles enough of our own. "

And with this consolation Arsinoë left him, again consumed withimpotent rage. 

"Villain, " fumed Pisander to himself, "if I could only place myfingers round your neck! But what can I do? What can I do? I amhelpless, friendless, penniless! And I can only tear out my heart, andpretend to play the philosopher. I, a philosopher! If I were a trueone, I would have had the courage to kill myself before this. "

And in this mental state he continued, till he learned that Pratinashad taken his farewell, and that Calatinus wished him--since all theslaves seemed busy, and the poor house philosopher was often sent onmenial errands--to go to the _Forum Boarium_, [70] and bring back someribs of beef for a dinner that evening. Pisander went as bidden, tugging a large basket, and trying to muster up courage to continuehis walk to the Fabrician Bridge, and plunge into the Tiber. Inclassic days suicide was a commendable act under a great manycircumstances, and Pisander was perfectly serious and sincere in hisbelief that he and the world had been companions too long for the goodof either. But the jar and din of the streets certainly served to makeconnected philosophical meditation upon the futility and unimportanceof human existence decidedly unfruitful. By the time he reached thecattle-market the noise of this strange place drove all suicidalintentions from him. Butchers were slaughtering kine; drovers weredriving oxen off of barges that had come down the Tiber; sheep andgoats were bleating--everywhere around the stalls, booths, shops, andpens was the bustle of an enormous traffic. Pisander picked his waythrough the crowd, searching for the butcher to whom he had beenespecially sent. He had gone as far as the ancient shrine of MaterMatuta, which found place in these seemingly unhallowed precincts, when, as he gazed into the throng before him, his hair stood as itwere on end, his voice choked in his throat, and cold sweat broke outover him. The next moment his hand was seized by another, young andhearty, and he was gasping forth the name of Agias. 

 [70] Cattle-market. 

Chapter V

A Very Old Problem

I

Drusus had at last finished the business which centred around thedeath of his uncle, old Publius Vibulanus. He had walked behind thebier, in company with the other relatives of the deceased--all verydistant, saving himself. On the day, too, of the funeral, he had beenobliged to make his first public oration--a eulogy delivered in theForum from the Rostra--in which Drusus tried to pay a graceful but notfulsome tribute to the old eques, who had never distinguished himselfin any way, except the making of money. The many clients of Vibulanus, who now looked upon the young man as their patron, had raised aprodigious din of applause during the oration, and Quintus wasflattered to feel that he had not studied rhetoric in vain. Finally, as next of kin, he had to apply the torch to the funeral pyre, andpreside over the funeral feast, held by custom nine days after theactual burning, and over the contests of gladiators which took placeat this festivity. Meanwhile Sextus Flaccus had been attending to thelegal business connected with the transfer of the dead man's estate tohis heir. All this took time--time which Drusus longed to be spendingwith Cornelia in shady and breezy Præneste, miles from unhealthy, half-parched Rome. 

Drusus had sent Agias ahead to Cornelia, as soon as the poor boy hadrecovered in the least from his brutal scourging. The lad had partedfrom his deliverer with the most extravagant demonstrations ofgratitude, which Quintus had said he could fully repay by implicitdevotion to Cornelia. How that young lady had been pleased with herpresent, Drusus could not tell; although he had sent along a letterexplaining the circumstances of the case. But Quintus had other thingson his mind than Agias and his fortunes, on the morning when at lasthe turned his face away from the sultry capital, and found hiscarriage whirling him once more over the Campagna. 

Drusus had by personal experience learned the bitterness of thepolitical struggle in which he had elected to take part. The Cæsariansat Rome (Balbus, Antonius, and Curio) had welcomed him to theirnumber, for young as he was, his wealth and the prestige of the Livianname were not to be despised. And Drusus saw how, as in his youngerdays he had not realized, the whole fabric of the state was in an evilway, and rapidly approaching its mending or ending. The Roman Republichad exported legions; she had imported slaves, who heaped up vastriches for their masters, while their competition reduced the freepeasantry to starvation. And now a splendid aristocracy claimed torule a subject world, while the "Roman people" that had conquered thatworld were a degenerate mob, whose suffrages in the elections werepurchasable--almost openly--by the highest bidder. The way was notclear before Drusus; he only saw, with his blind, Pagan vision, thatno real liberty existed under present conditions; that Pompeius andhis allies, the Senate party, were trying to perpetuate thearistocracy in power, and that Cæsar, the absent proconsul of theGauls, stood, at least, for a sweeping reform. And so the young manmade his decision and waited the march of events. 

But once at Præneste all these forebodings were thrust into thebackground. The builders and frescoers had done their work well in hisvilla. A new colonnade was being erected. Coloured mosaic floors werebeing laid. The walls of the rooms were all a-dance with bright Cupidsand Bacchantes--cheerful apartments for their prospective mistress. But it was over to the country-house of the Lentuli that Drusus madesmall delay to hasten, there to be in bliss in company with Cornelia, "And how, " he asked, after the young lady had talked of a dozeninnocent nothings, "do you like Agias, the boy I sent you?"

"I can never thank you enough--at least if he is always as clever andwitty as he has been since I have had him, " was the reply. "I wasvexed at first to have a servant with such dreadful scars all overhim; but he is more presentable now. And he has a very droll way ofsaying bright things. What fun he has made of Livia's dear mother, hisformer mistress! I shall have to give up reading any wise authors, ifit will make me grow like Valeria. Then, too, Agias has won my favour, if in no other way, by getting a thick grass stem out of the throat ofmy dear little pet sparrow, that was almost choking to death. I am sograteful to you for him!"

"I am very glad you are fond of him, " said Drusus. "Has your unclecome back from Rome yet? I did not meet him while there. I was busy;and besides, to speak honestly, I have a little hesitation in seeinghim, since the political situation is so tense. "

"He returns to-night, I believe, " replied Cornelia. Then as if a bitapprehensive, "Tell me about the world, Drusus; I don't care to be oneof those fine ladies of the sort of Clodia, [71] who are all in thewhirl of politics, and do everything a man does except to speak in theSenate; but I like to know what is going on. There isn't going to be ariot, I hope, as there was two years ago, when no consuls wereelected, and Pompeius had to become sole magistrate?"

 [71] She was a sister of Clodius, a famous demagogue, and was a brilliant though abandoned woman. 

"There have been no tumults so far, " said Drusus, who did not care tounfold all his fears and expectations. 

"Yet things are in a very bad way, I hear, " said Cornelia "Can't Cæsarand my uncle's party agree?"

"I'm afraid not, " replied Drusus, shaking his head. "Cæsar wishes tobe consul a second time. Pompeius and he were friends when at Luccasix years ago this was agreed on. Cæsar was then promised that heshould have his Gallic proconsulship up to the hour when he should beconsul, and besides Pompeius promised to have permission granted Cæsarto be elected consul, without appearing as a candidate in Rome; so atno moment was Cæsar to be without office, [72] and consequently he wasnot to be liable to prosecution from his enemies. All this was securedto Cæsar by the laws, --laws which Pompeius aided to have enacted. Butnow Crassus the third triumvir is dead; Julia, Cæsar's daughter andPompeius's wife, whom both dearly loved, is dead. And Pompeius hasbeen persuaded by your uncle and his friends to break with Cæsar andrepudiate his promise. Cæsar and Pompeius have long been so powerfultogether that none could shake their authority; but if one falls awayand combines with the common enemy, what but trouble is to beexpected?"

 [72] Without the _imperium_--so long as a Roman official held this he was above prosecution. 

"The enemy! the enemy!" repeated Cornelia, looking down, and sighing. "Quintus, these feuds are a dreadful thing. Can't you, " and here shethrew a bit of pathetic entreaty into her voice, "join with my uncle'sparty, and be his friend? I hate to think of having my husband atvariance with the man who stands in place of my father. "

Drusus took her face between his hands, and looked straight at her. They were standing within the colonnade of the villa of the Lentuli, and the sunlight streaming between the pillars fell directly uponCornelia's troubled face, and made a sort of halo around her. 

"My dearest, delectissima, " said Quintus, earnestly, "I could nothonourably take your hand in marriage, if I had not done that which myconscience, if not my reason, tells me is the only right thing to do. It grieves me to hurt you; but we are not fickle Greeks, nor servileEasterns; but Romans born to rule, and because born to rule, born tocount nothing dear that will tend to advance the strength andprosperity not of self, but of the state. You would not love me if Isaid I cared more for keeping a pang from your dear heart, than forthe performance of that which our ancestors counted the one end oflife--duty to the commonwealth. "

Cornelia threw her arms around him. 

"You are the noblest man on the whole earth!" she cried with brightenthusiasm. "Of course I would not love you if you did what youbelieved to be wrong! My uncle may scold, may storm. I shan't care forall his anger, for you _must be_ right. "

"Ah! delectissima, " cried Drusus, feeling at the moment as if he werecapable of refuting senates and confounding kings, "we will not lookat too gloomy a side of the picture. Pompeius and Cæsar will bereconciled. Your uncle's party will see that it is best to allow theproconsul an election as promised. We will have wise laws and moderatereforms. All will come out aright. And we--we two--will go alongthrough life as softly and as merrily as now we stroll up and down inthe cool shade of these columns; and I will turn philosopher andevolve a new system that will forever send Plato and Zeno, Epicurusand Timon, to the most remote and spider-spun cupboard of the mostold-fashioned library, and you shall be a poetess, a Sappho, anErinna, who shall tinkle in Latin metres sweeter than they ever singin Aiolic. And so we will fleet the time as though we were Zeus andHera on Olympus. "

"Zeus and Hera!" repeated Cornelia, laughing. "You silly Græcule. [73]You may talk about that misbehaved pair, who were anything butharmonious and loving, if Homer tells truly. I prefer our own Juppiterand our Juno of the Aventine. _They_ are a staid and home-keepingcouple, worth imitating, if we are to imitate any celestials. Butnothing Greek for me. "

 [73] Contemptuous diminutive for Greek. 

"Intolerant, intolerant, " retorted Drusus, "we are all Greek, weRomans of to-day--what is left of old Latium but her half-discardedlanguage, her laws worse than discarded, perverted, her good pilum[74]which has not quite lost its cunning, and her--"

 [74] The heavy short javelin carried by the Roman legionary, only about six feet long. In practised hands it was a terrible weapon, and won many a Roman victory. 

"Men, " interrupted Cornelia, "such as you!"

"And women, " continued Drusus, "such as you! Ah! There is somethingleft of Rome after all. We are not altogether fallen, unworthy of ourancestors. Why shall we not be merry? A Greek would say that it wasalways darkest before Eos leaves the couch of Tithonus, [75] and whoknows that our Helios is not soon to dawn and be a long, long time erehis setting? I feel like throwing formality to the winds, crying'Iacchos evoë, ' and dancing like a bacchanal, and singing in tipsydelight, --

 [75] The "rosy-fingered Dawn" of Homer; Tithonos was her consort. 

 "'Oh, when through the long night, With fleet foot glancing white, Shall I go dancing in my revelry, My neck cast back, and bare Unto the dewy air, Like sportive faun in the green meadow's glee?'[76]

 [76] Milman, translator. 

as old Euripides sings in his 'Bacchæ. ' Yes, the Hellenes were rightwhen they put nymphs in the forest and in the deep. Only our blindpractical Latin eyes will not see them. We will forget that we areRomans; we will build for ourselves some cosey little Phæacia up inthe Sabine hills beside some lake; and there my Sappho shall also bemy Nausicaä to shine fair as a goddess upon her distressed andshipwrecked Odysseus. "

"Yes, " said Cornelia, smiling, "a delightful idyl; but Odysseus wouldnot stay with Nausicaä. "

"I was wrong, " replied Drusus, as they walked arm in arm out from theportico, and down the broad avenue of stately shade trees. "You shallbe the faithful Penelope, who receives back her lord in happinessafter many trials. Your clever Agias can act as Telemachus for us. "

"But the suitors whom Odysseus must slay?" asked Cornelia, enteringinto the fun. 

"Oh, for them, " said Drusus, lightly, "we need not search far. Whoother than Ahenobarbus?"

II

Rather late in the afternoon, a few days subsequently, the most nobleLucius Cornelius Lentulus Crus, consul-designate, and one of the mostprominent politicians of his time and nation, arrived at Præneste;having hurried away from Rome to escape for a little while the summerheats which made the capital anything but a pleasant place forresidence. Drusus's travelling cortège would have seemed small enoughcompared with the hedge of outriders, footmen, and body-servants thatsurrounded the great man. But notwithstanding his prospectivedignities, and his present importance, Lentulus Crus was hardly animposing personality. He was a bald-pated, florid individual, withrough features, a low, flat forehead, and coarse lips. He was dressedvery fashionably, and was perfumed and beringed to an extent thatwould have been derided anywhere save in the most select circles ofRome. He was stout, and when he alighted from his carriage, he movedaway with a somewhat waddling gait, and lifted up a rasping, high-pitched voice in unsonorous complaint against a slave who letfall a parcel of baggage. 

Clearly the master of the house had returned, and all the familia andfreedmen bustled about their various tasks with the unusualpromptitude and diligence which is the outcome of a healthy fear ofretribution for slackness. Lentulus went into the atrium, and therehad an angry conference with the local land-steward, over someaccounts which the latter presented. In fact, so ill was the humour ofthe noble lord, that Cornelia avoided going out from her room to meethim, and pretended to be so engrossed in her Ennius that she did nothear he had come. 

This pretence, however, could not last long. Lentulus called out in asurly tone to know where his niece was, and the latter was fain topresent herself. It could not be said that the meeting betweenCornelia and her uncle was extremely affectionate. The interchange ofkisses was painfully formal, and then Lentulus demanded somewhatabruptly:--

"How have you been spending your time? With that young ne'er-do-weelson of Sextus Drusus?"

"Quintus was here this morning, " said Cornelia, feeling a littlereproachful at the manner in which her uncle had spoken of her lover. 

"Just back from Rome, I presume?" said Lentulus, icily, "and he mustfly over to the cote of his little dove and see that she hasn'tflitted away? He'd better have a care in his doings. He'll havesomething more serious on hand than lovemaking before long. "

"I don't understand you, uncle, " said Cornelia, turning rather red;"Quintus has never done anything for which he has cause to fear. "

"Oh, he hasn't, eh?" retorted Lentulus. "_Mehercle!_ what donkeys youwomen are! You may go, I want to see your mother. "

"She is in her own room, " said Cornelia, turning her back; "I wish youwould not speak to me in that way again. "

Lentulus wandered through the mazes of courts, colonnades, and themagnificently decorated and finished rooms of the villa, until he cameto the chamber of Claudia, his sister-in-law. Claudia was a woman ofthe same fashionable type as Valeria, good-looking, ostentatious, proud, selfish, devoid of any aim in life save the securing of themost vapid pleasure. At the moment, she was stretched out on a thicklycushioned couch. She had thrown on a loose dress of silken texture. Anegress was waving over her head a huge fan of long white feathers. Asecond negress was busy mixing in an _Authepsa_, --a sort of silverurn, heated by charcoal, --a quantity of spices, herbs, and water, which the lady was to take as soon as it was sufficiently steeped. Claudia had been enjoying an unusually gay round of excitement whileat Baiæ, and she had but just come up to Præneste, to recover herselfafter the exertions of a score of fashionable suppers, excursions onthe Lucrine Lake, and the attendant exhausting amusements. When herbrother-in-law entered the room, she raised her carefully tintedeyebrows, and observed with great languor:--

"So you have gotten away from Rome, at last, my Lucius?"

"For a few days, " replied Lentulus, in no very affable tone; "the heatand din of the city will drive me mad! And I have had no end oftroublesome business. The senators are all fools or slaves of Cæsar. That treacherous rascal, Curio, is blocking all our efforts. EvenPompeius is half-hearted in the cause. It wouldn't take much to makehim go back to Cæsar, and then where would we be?"

"Where would we be?" said Claudia, half conscious of what she said, turning over wearily. "Don't talk politics, my dear brother. They aredistressingly dull. My head aches at the very word. " And she held outher hand and took the golden cup of hot drink which the negressoffered her. 

"Aye, " replied Lentulus, not in the least subdued, "where _will_ webe, if Pompeius and Cæsar become friends? If there is no war, noproscription, no chance to make a sesterce in a hurry!"

"My dear brother, " said Claudia, still more languidly, and yawning atlength, as she handed back the cup, "have I not said that the meremention of politics makes my head ache?"

"Then let it, " said the other, brutally; "I must have some plain wordswith you. " And he pointed toward the door. The two serving-maids tookthe hint, and retired. 

Claudia settled her head back on the pillows, and folded her hands asif to resign herself to a very dull tête-à-tête. 

"Have you any new debts?" demanded Lentulus. 

"What a tiresome question, " murmured the lady. "No--no--yes; I owePomponius the fancier--I don't quite know how much--for my lastMaltese lap dog. "

"Thank the gods that is all, " went on her brother-in-law. "Now listento me. I have been living beyond my means. Last year the canvass toget on the board of guardians of the Sibylline Books--in which thatgraceless son-in-law of Cicero's, Publius Dolabella, defeated me--costa deal of money. This year I have the consulship. But it has takenevery denarius I own, and more too. All my estates are involved, sothat it will require years to redeem them, in the ordinary way. "

"How extremely unfortunate!" sighed Claudia, looking dreadfully bored. 

"If that was all I had to tell you, " snapped back Lentulus, "I wouldnot have disturbed your ladyship's repose. But you must be soindulgent as to listen. "

"Well?" said Claudia, yawning again and settling herself. 

"Your late husband left some little property, " began the other. 

"Yes, to be sure; oh! my poor Caius!" and Claudia began to sob andwipe away the tears. 

"And this property I have involved, " continued Lentulus, drivingstraight ahead and never heeding the widow's display of emotions. "Itwill be impossible for me to clear away the encumbrances for somelittle time. "

Claudia was excited now. She sprang up from her cushions and cried, orrather screamed:--

"Brute! Robber of orphans and widows! Heartless wretch! Have youpledged the slender fortune Caius left me, and the dowry of my poordear Cornelia?" And her voice sank into hoarseness, and she began tosob once more. 

Lentulus regarded her with vexation and contempt. "_Mehercle!_ what afuss you are making! The deed is done, and there's no helping it. Icame here, not to offer excuses, but to state the facts. You may callme what you please; I _had to do it_, or lose the consulship. Now lookthe matter in the face. You must contract no more debts; I can'tdischarge the old ones. Live as reasonably as you can. "

"And no more nice dinners? No more visits to Baiæ?" groaned the lady, rocking to and fro. 

"Yes, yes, " broke in her brother-in-law, sharply, "I can still raiseenough to meet all ordinary expenses. If I let down in my household, my creditors would see I was pinched, and begin to pluck me. I canweather the storm. But look here: Cornelia must have an end with thatyoung Drusus. I can never pay her dowry, and would not have him for anephew-in-law if I could. "

"Cornelia break off with Drusus?" and Claudia stopped whimpering, andsat staring at Lentulus with astonished eyes. To tell the truth shehad always liked the young Livian, and thought her daughter wasdestined for a most advantageous match. 

"Certainly, my dear Claudia, " said the consul-elect, half relieved tochange what had been a very awkward subject; "I can assure you thatQuintus is far from being a proper and worthy man for a husband foryour daughter. I have heard very evil reports of him while in thecity. He has cast in his lot with that gang of knavish Cæsarianscentring around Marcus Antonius, Cælius, and that Caius Sallustius[77]whom our excellent censors have just ejected from the Senate, becauseof his evil living and Cæsarian tendencies. Do I need to say more ofhim? A worthless, abandoned, shameless profligate!"

 [77] Sallust, the well-known historian. 

Claudia had a little sense of humour; and when Lentulus was workinghimself up into a righteous rage over the alleged misdoings of Drusus, she interrupted:--

"You do well to say so, my dear Lucius; for all men know that yourlife is as morally severe as your good friend Cato's. "

Lentulus was silent for a moment, and bit his lip; then recommenced:--

"What I meant to say was this. Quintus Drusus and I are enemies; and Iwill not give him my niece in marriage. If we were friends, I wouldnot be able to pay the dowry. You can complain if you please; but youcan't alter my inclinations or my inability to carry out the marriageagreement. "

Though Claudia in many respects was an empty woman of the world, shehad in a way a desire to promote her daughter's happiness, and, as hasbeen said, she had been extremely fond of Drusus. So she replieddiplomatically that Quintus was probably willing to wait a reasonabletime for the dowry; and that even if he had held communication withthe Cæsarians, he was little more than a boy and could be shaken outof any unfortunate political opinions. 

"I will be reasonable, " said Lentulus, after pacing up and down for afew minutes. "I was told of his folly by Caius Calvus. [78] Calvus isas a rule accurate in his information. He said he met Drusus incompany with Balbus and Curio. But there may have been some mistake. And the lad, as you declare, may be willing to cut loose from a badcourse. If he really cares for Cornelia, he will be moderate in hisdemands for the dowry. Your suggestion is worth taking, Claudia. Letus send for him, and let him know the only terms on which he can havemy niece. "

 [78] A distinguished poet and orator--a friend of Catullus. 

Lentulus clapped his hands, and a serving-boy came in for orders. 

"Go to the villa of Quintus Drusus, " commanded the master, "and tellhim that I would see him at once on business of weight. "

Claudia arose, and let her maids throw over her a long white_stola_, [79] with deep flounces and an elaborate embroidery ofsea-nymphs and marine monsters. Lentulus went out into the atrium andwalked up and down, biting his nails, and trying to think out thearguments by which he would confute the political heresies of Drusus. Lentulus was too good a politician not to know that the young manwould be a valuable catch for the party that secured him; and theconsul-elect was determined, not so much to spare breaking the heartof his niece, but to rob the enemy of a valuable adherent. Corneliahad gone back to her book; but when she saw the boy go down the path, evidently on an errand to the villa of the Drusi, she rolled up thevolume, and went into the atrium. 

 [79] A long tunic worn by Roman ladies. 

"You have sent after Quintus, uncle?" she asked. 

"I have, " was the reply; "I expect him shortly. "

"What is the matter?" continued Cornelia, growing apprehensive. 

"I wish to make the arrangements for your wedding, " replied Lentulus, continuing his pacing to and fro. 

"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Cornelia, cheerily. "I am so pleased youwish to make everything agreeable for Quintus and for me!"

"I hope so, " was the rather gloomy response. 

Presently Drusus was seen coming up the shaded path at a very briskstride. He had been playing at fencing with old Mamercus, and his facewas all aglow with a healthy colour; there was a bright light in hiseye. When he saw Cornelia in the doorway he gave a laugh and brokeinto a run, which brought him up to her panting and merry. 

Then as he saw Lentulus he paused, half ashamed of his display ofboyish ardour, and yet, with a smile and a gracious salutation, askedthe older man if he was enjoying good health, and congratulated him onhis election. 

The consul-designate was a little disarmed by this straightforwardmode of procedure. He dropped unuttered the elaborate exordium he hadbeen preparing on the tendency of young men to be led astray byspeciously pleading schemers, and found himself replying mildly toquestions about himself and various old friends of his, whom Drusushad known as a boy before he went to Athens. But finally the young maninterrupted this pacific discourse with the query:--

"And, most noble Lentulus, what is the business on which you sent forme? So far as I am able, the uncle of Cornelia has but to command. "

Lentulus glanced at Claudia, as if expecting her to open a delicatesubject; but that excellent lady only fingered her _palla_, [80] andgave vent to a slight cough. Cornelia, whose fears had all passedaway, stood beside Drusus, with one arm resting on his shoulder, glancing pertly from one man to the other. Lentulus began:--

 [80] A shawl worn over the stola. 

"I am very sorry to tell you, Quintus, that I fear your wedding withCornelia cannot be celebrated as soon as you hoped. "

"Must be postponed!" exclaimed the young man, in alarm; and Corneliadropped her arm, and stared at her uncle in dismay. 

"I fear so, " said Lentulus, dryly. "I have done my best to husband thefortune Caius left his daughter; but, as perhaps you know, I investeda very large part of it in the tax farming syndicate for fartherSpain. The speculation seemed safe, but local wars have so reduced theprofits that they amount to nothing, and it will be some time beforethe principal is set free. Of course, in ordinary times I would makeup the sum from my own means, but I have had very heavy expenseslately; consequently, I fear you cannot marry Cornelia until I am in aposition to pay over her dowry. "

Drusus burst out into a hearty, boyish laugh. 

"My dear uncle, " cried he, "for do let me call you so, I would haveyou know that when I take Cornelia I have dowry sufficient. Thanks toold Vibulanus's will, I may call myself passing wealthy. As far as Iam concerned, you may pay over the marriage portion to my heirs, if soyou wish. "

Lentulus seemed considerably relieved. Claudia broke out with loudejaculations to the effect that Drusus, she always knew, was agenerous, affectionate fellow, and she loved him dearly. Cornelia, however, looked disturbed, and presently exclaimed:--

"It isn't right, Quintus, that I should come into your house with nota sesterce in my own name, as if you had married some low farmer'sdaughter. "

"_Phy!_ pish!" replied Drusus. "You always scold the Greeks, my goodmistress, and yet, like them, you hold that a marriage between peopleof unequal means is unhappy. A penny for your scruples! I have moremoney to-day than I know what to do with. Besides, if it will make youhappier, your uncle can doubtless pay over the dowry before a greatwhile. "

"It's certainly very kind of you, Quintus, " said Lentulus (who hadquite made up his mind that if the young man could wait for what was avery tidy fortune, through sheer affection for Cornelia, he would bepliable enough in the political matter), "not to press me in thisaffair. Rest assured, neither you nor my niece will be the losers inthe end. But there's one other thing I would like to ask you about. From what Calvus told me in Rome, Curio and certain other still worse_Populares_[81] were trying to induce you to join their abominablefaction. I trust you gave those men no encouragement?"

 [81] The party in opposition, since the time of Tiberius Gracchus, to the Senate party--Optimates; at this time the _Populares_ were practically all Cæsarians. 

Drusus was evidently confused. He was wishing strongly that Corneliawas away, and he could talk to her uncle with less constraint. He feltthat he was treading on very dangerous ground. 

"It is true, " said he, trying painfully to answer as if the words costhim no thought. "Antonius had met many of my father's old comrades inGaul, and they had sent a number of kind messages to me. Then, too, Balbus invited me to a dinner-party and there I met Curio, and a verypleasant time we had. I cannot recall that they made any specialefforts to enlist me as a partisan. "

In this last, Drusus spoke truly; for he had already thrown in his lotwith the Cæsarian cause. But Lentulus knew enough of the case torealize that he was receiving not the whole truth but only a half; andbeing a man of a sharp temper that was under very imperfect control, threw diplomacy to the winds, and replied vehemently: "Don't attemptto cover up your folly! I know how you have put yourself in the powerof those conspirators. Are you planning to turn out another Catilina?"

"My dear sir, " expostulated Drusus, doing his best to retain hisoutward calm, "I cannot understand of what fault I have become guilty. Is it wrong in Rome to accept a kindly invitation from an old familyfriend to a dinner? Am I responsible for the persons the host summonedto meet me there?"

Drusus had been simply sparring to ward off the real point at issue;like many persons he would not assert his convictions and motives tillfairly brought to bay. But that moment came almost instantly. 

"Don't equivocate! _Mehercle!_" cried Lentulus, getting thoroughlyangry. "Can't you speak, except to lie and quibble before my face?Have you joined the gang Curio is rallying for Cæsar?"

Drusus was losing his own patience now. 

"Yes! And we shall shortly see whether the Republic is to be longerruined by incompetence and corruption!"

"Uncle! Quintus!" implored Cornelia, forcing herself between them, andcasting out of her wide-open eyes on each a look full of distress. "Don't contend! For my sake be friends!"

"For your sake!" raged Lentulus, his florid face growing redder andredder. "I will take care to keep you out of the clutches of a man whodeliberately chooses to associate with all that is base and villanous. Until your handsome lover throws over connections with Cæsar and hisfellow-conspirators, let him never ask for your hand!"

"Sir, " burst in Drusus, flushing with passion, "do you dare to set atnaught the will of your brother and its express commands? Dare youwithhold from me what is legally my own?"

"Legally?" replied Lentulus, with sharp scorn. "Don't use that word toa consul-elect, who has the whole Senate and Pompeius behind him. Lawsare very dangerous tools for a young man to meddle with in a case likethis. You will be wise not to resort to the courts. "

"You defy the law!" thundered Drusus, all the blood of his fightingancestors tingling in his veins. "Do you say that to a Livian; to theheir of eight consuls, two censors, a master of the horse, a dictator, and three triumphators? Shall not _he_ obtain justice?"

"And perhaps, " said Lentulus, sinking into an attitude of irritatingcoldness, "you will further press your claim on the ground that yourmother was a Fabian, and the Fabii claim the sole right to sacrificeto Hercules on the Great Altar[82] in the Cattle-market by theFlaminian Circus, because they are descended from Hercules andEvander. I think the Cornelian gens can show quite as many death-masksin its atria, and your mock heroics will only stamp you as a very badtragedian. "

 [82] _Ara Maxima_. 

"Uncle! Quintus!" implored Cornelia again, the tears beginning tostart from her eyes. "Cease this dreadful quarrel. Go away until youcan talk calmly. "

"Quintus Livius, " shouted Lentulus, dropping the "Drusus, " a part ofthe name which was omitted in formal address, "you can choose here andnow. Forswear your Cæsarian connections, or consider my niece'sbetrothal at an end!"

Drusus stood looking in blank dismay from one to the other of thelittle company. Claudia had started to speak, but closed, her lipswithout uttering a word. Lentulus faced him, hot, flushed, and with acynical smile of delight, at the infliction of mental torture, playingover his face. Cornelia had dropped down upon a chair, buried herpretty face in her hands, and was sobbing as if her heart would break. It was a moment Drusus would not soon forget. The whole scene in theatrium was stamped upon his memory; the drops of the fountain seemedfrozen in mid-air; the rioting satyr on the fresco appeared to bestruggling against the limitations of paint and plaster to completehis bound; he saw Cornelia lift her head and begin to address him, butwhat she said was drowned by the buzzing and swirl which unsteadiedthe young man's entire faculties. Drusus felt himself turning hot andcold, and in semi-faintness he caught at a pillar, and leaned upon it. He felt numbed mentally and physically. Then, by a mental reaction, his strong, well-balanced nature reasserted itself. His head cleared, his muscles relaxed their feverish tension, he straightened himselfand met the cool leer of Lentulus with a glance stern and high; such aglance as many a Livian before him had darted on foe in Senate orfield of battle. 

"Lucius Cornelius, " said he, his voice perfectly under command, "doyou propose to defy law and right and refuse me the hand of yourniece, unless I do your will?"

Lentulus thought that in this unimpassioned speech he detected thepremonitions of a capitulation on the part of Drusus, and with a voiceof ill-timed persuasion, replied, "Be reasonable, Drusus; you haveeverything to gain and nothing to lose by not thwarting my wishes. "

"Your wishes!" retorted Drusus, with a menacing step forward. "Yourwishes! You are consul-designate. You have the Senate, you have yourtool, Pompeius, you have the gangs of gladiators and street ruffiansand all the machinery of your political clubs to invoke to defy thelaw! I grant it; but though you deny me Cornelia, though by yourmachinations you bring me any other loss or shame, the grandson of themurdered Marcus Drusus will do that which is right in his own eyes, and accept no mandate from you or any man, against his will!"

"Cornelia, " cried Claudia, infinitely distressed, "speak to Quintus, reason with him, implore him, pray him not to resist the requests ofyour uncle. "

"Yes, girl!" said Lentulus, savagely, turning livid with sheer rage, "use all your arts on that graceless would-be conspirator now, or seehis face no more!"

But Cornelia interposed in a most summary and unexpected manner. Herface was very white; her nails pressed into her smooth arms, herbreath came thick and spasmodically, and her eyes flamed with theintense passion of a strong spirit thoroughly aroused. 

"Go, Quintus, " she cried, with a strained, loud voice, "go, and neversee my face again, until my uncle repents of his cruel madness! He ismaster here; only woe will come from defying him. Do not anger himfurther; depart. "

"Depart?" burst from Drusus. 

"Depart!" replied Cornelia, desperately; "if you stay I shall go mad. I shall beg you to yield, --which would be base of me; and if you heardmy prayers, it would be more base in you. "

"Fool, " shouted Lentulus, "don't you know you will be the first I'llmark for slaughter in the next proscription? You, mistress, go to yourroom, if you cannot keep a civil tongue! And you, sir, get you gone, unless you wish the slaves to cast you out. "

"Farewell, Cornelia!" gasped the young man; and he turned his back, and started out into the colonnade. 

"Oh, Quintus, return!" shrieked Claudia, wringing her hands. "All thegods blast you!" muttered Lentulus, quivering with fury; then heshouted at the top of his shrill, harsh voice: "My enemies are myenemies. You are warned. Take care!"

"And do you take warning! A Livian never forgets! _Mars regat!_ LetWar rule!" cried Drusus, turning at the vestibule, and brandishing aknotted fist. Lentulus stared after him, half furious, halfintimidated. But Claudia glanced back into the room from the justemptied doorway, and gave a scream. 

"The servants! Help! Water! Cornelia has fainted!"

III

Drusus strode down the long avenue of shade trees. The gardener staredafter him, as the young man went by, his face knitted with a scowl ofcombined pain and fury, with never a word in reply to the rustic'skindly salutation. 

"_Papæ!_"[83] muttered the man, "what has befallen Master Quintus? Hashe fallen out with her ladyship?"

 [83] "Strange! Marvellous!"

Drusus kept on, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, until he found himself past the boundary stone between his own estateand that of the Lentuli. Then he stopped and passed his hand over hisforehead. It was damp with an unhealthy sweat. His hands and framewere quivering as if in an ague. He seated himself on a stone bench bythe roadway, and tried to collect his faculties. 

"Bear up, Drusus; be a Livian, as you boast yourself, " he declaimedfrantically to himself. "Cornelia shall still be yours! All things arepossible to one who is young and strong, with a clear conscience!"

If this self-debate did not actually stimulate cheerfulness, it atleast revived the embers of hope; and Drusus found himself trying tolook the situation fairly in the face. 

"You have thrown away your right to marry the dearest, loveliest, andnoblest girl in the world, " he reflected bitterly. "You have made animplacable enemy of one of the most powerful men of the state. Inshort, your happiness is gone, and perhaps your life is in danger--andfor what? A dream of reform which can never be realized? A madconspiracy to overthrow the commonwealth? Is Cæsar to be saviour ordespot? For what have you sacrificed yourself?"

Lentulus, he knew perfectly well, was really above law. No jury wouldever convict the leader of the Senate party. Drusus could nevercontract lawful marriage with Cornelia, so long as her guardianwithheld consent. And for one moment he regretted of hisdetermination, of his defiance. Then came reaction. Drusus called upall his innate pride, all the strength of his nobler inspirations. 

"I have set my face toward that which is honourable and right, " criedDrusus to his own soul; "I will not doubt. Whether there be gods, Icannot tell. But this I know, the wise and good have counted naughtdear but virtues; and toward this end I will strive. "

And by a strong effort at self-command, he forced himself to arisefrom the bench and walk back to his own estate, and soon he waspouring the whole story into the sympathetic ears of Mamercus, Pausanias, and other worthy retainers. 

The scene that had taken place at the villa of the Lentuli, soon wasreported through all the adjacent farms; for several slaves had beenthe mute witnesses of the angry colloquy, and had not been slow topublish the report. The familia of Drusus was in a tumult ofindignation. All the brawny Germans and Africans whom the young masterhad released from the slave-prison, and had since treated withkindness, listened with no unfavourable ear to the proposal whichTitus Mamercus--more valorous than discreet--was laying before them:to arm and attack Lentulus in his own villa, and so avenge their lordin a summary fashion. 

But the elder Mamercus dashed the martial ambitions of his son. 

"Fool, " cried the veteran, emphatically, when the project came to hisears, "do you wish to undo yourself and Quintus too? No power short ofJove could protect you and him, if aught were to befall Lentulus, inthe way you propose. "

"But what can we do, father?" replied Titus, sorry to see his schemefor vengeance blocked; "shall that despicable tyrant defy law andjustice, and refuse to give Mistress Cornelia to Quintus?"

"Silence your folly!" thundered the other, who was himself quitenonplussed over the situation, and felt Titus's bold chatter wouldgoad him into something desperate. 

The truth was, neither Pausanias nor any other of Quintus's friendscould see any means of coercing the consul-elect into receding fromhis position. He was practically above law, and could not with safetybe attacked in any way. Pausanias could only counsel moderation andpatience; perhaps some fortunate chance would alter matters. Drususspent the evening in a pathetically forced attempt to read hisCallimachus. He was weary physically, and intended to retire early. Æmilia, who felt sorry enough for the plight of her rather distantcousin, had tried to console him and divert him with guitar[84] music, and had called in an itinerant piper, [85] but these well-meant effortsat amusement had been dreary failures. Drusus had just bidden hisbody-servants undress him, when he was informed that Agias had comefrom the Lentulan villa, and wished to see him. 

 [84] _Cithara_. 

 [85] Itinerant pipers have existed in Italy from earliest times; they still survive, albeit in alien lands and with less tuneful instruments. 

Agias was full of protestations of delight at beholding hisintercessor and ransomer. Drusus could hardly recognize in thesupple-limbed, fair-complexioned, vivacious lad before him, thewretched creature whom Alfidius had driven through the streets. Agias's message was short, but quite long enough to make Drusus's palecheeks flush with new life, his sunken eyes rekindle, and his languorvanish into energy. Cornelia would be waiting for him by the greatcypress in the gardens of the Lentulan villa, as soon as the moonrose. 

Drusus prepared himself hurriedly, and refused all the entreaties ofTitus to take him along as a body-guard. Time coursed on winged feet, as the young man hastened out into the night, and half ran down thefamiliar pathway. The day had been only moderately warm for theseason, and the night was cool, though not cold. A soft east wind wasblowing down from the distant Apennines, and all the trees wererustling gently. Up to the giant arm of a gnarled oak, fluttered anowl, which hooted noisily as the young man hurried beneath. Thecrickets were chirping. A little way off was a small stream plungingover a dam; from it came a liquid roar; and the little wall of whitespray was just visible in the darkness. Out from the orchards driftedthe fragrant scent of apple, pear, plum, and quince. Still more sweetwas the breeze, as it swept over the wide-stretching rose-beds. Overhead Orion and Arcturus were glittering in that hazy splendourwhich belongs to the heavens on a summer's night. 

Drusus kept on, only half noting the beauty of the darkness. When heentered the groves of the Lentulan villa, almost all light failed him, and but for his intimate knowledge--from boyhood--of the wholelocality, he could never have kept the path. Then the moonlight beganto stream up in the east, and between the trees and thickets lay thelong, yellow bars of brightness, while all else was still in gloom. Drusus pushed on with confidence, and soon the gurgle of the tinycataract told him that he was near the old cypress. A few steps more, and a figure rose from out the fern thicket. It was Cornelia. Her hairwas tumbling loosely over her shoulders; she wore a soft, light-bluedress that covered her arms and her feet. In the moonlight her faceand hands appeared as bloodless as white marble. 

"I knew you would come, Quintus, " she cried. "I couldn't say farewellto you, in the presence of my uncle!"

"My beautiful!" cried Drusus; and he caught her in his arms. 

The moments that followed were as bitter-sweet as may be conceivable. Each knew that they had small hope of an honourable realization oftheir love one for another; that the moment of parting would sooncome. But for the instant they were in Elysium, caught out of mortalcare and mortal sorrow, and knowing nothing but the pure delight ofthe other's presence. Then, at last, their talk became lessenraptured; the vision of Olympus faded little by little; the sternreality confronted them in all its seriousness. 

"Cornelia, " said Quintus, at length, "you are still a very youngwoman. This day's heart-breakings may, perhaps, be long painful toyou; but the pangs will grow faint in time. You and I may stillcherish fondness in our hearts for each other, but how dare wereasonably hope for more? Evil times are at hand. If your uncle'sparty prevail in the struggle, my ruin is assured. But not yours. There are many worthy men who would be proud to take in marriage theniece of the next consul; and with one of these you can live happily. Do not try to forget me. I don't ask that. But do not let mymisfortune cast a shadow over your dear life. Marry some honourableman. Only think kindly of me sometimes. "

They had been sitting beside the brooklet, on the soft green-sward. Cornelia had been resting both her hands in Drusus's, but now she drewthem back, and sprang to her feet, as if swept away by a gust ofanger. 

"How dare you!" she cried, "how dare you bid me throw away all that myheart has turned on, and my hopes depended on, and my imaginationdreamed of, since our fathers were slain side by side; and moreespecially since you came back from Athens? Why might not I bid yourenounce your adherence to Cæsar's cause, and say, 'There is no needof blasting your career by such a sacrifice; remember Cæsar and hisparty kindly, wish them well, but do not dwell too much thereon;submit cheerfully to what is inevitable'? Shall I argue thus? Have Iargued thus? If you will, abandon me, and wed some other maiden, andmany there are, fair, wealthy, noble, who will be glad to be given inmarriage to a Livius Drusus. But till you thus repudiate your father'swill, no power of gods or of men shall drive me to violate that ofmine. "

"Cornelia, " said Drusus, in a husky voice, "do you know what you aresaying? What resistance to threats and unkind treatment your resolvewill mean?"

"I both know the future and accept it, " answered the maiden firmly, looking fairly into his face. 

"Then by all the powers of earth, sky, and Hades!" cried the youngman, lifting one arm toward heaven, and throwing the other about hissweetheart, "I will defy Lentulus, defy Pompeius, defy Senate, army, mob, or any other human might. Hitherto I have thought to play thepatriot in espousing Cæsar's cause. Now let love and fury fire myardour. When the party of violence and tyranny falls, then too willfall the power of Lentulus to outrage your right and mine! Ours shallbe a triumph of Venus as well as of Mars, and until that time, may youand I endure faithful unto our fathers, ourselves, and one another!"

Hardly had he spoken ere loud voices were heard calling through thegrove. Torches were glaring among the trees, and the harsh tones ofLentulus burst out:--

"Take the wretched girl into the house when you find her; but as forher lover, let him not escape!"

"My uncle!" groaned Cornelia, quivering with terror; "one of my maidshas betrayed me! Flee! run! He has called out all his slaves; theywill kill you!"

"Kill me?" gasped Drusus, incredulously; "commit deliberate murder?"

"Yes, " moaned Cornelia; "he dares anything. He is all fury andviolence. Escape! Do not throw yourself away in vain!"

The lights flashed nearer; the slaves were shouting and blunderingthrough the bushes. 

"Two philippi to the man who strikes Drusus down!" bawled Lentulus. 

It was no time for delay and affectionate leave-taking. The young manthrew his arms around Cornelia, kissed her once, twice, and thenbounded into the thicket. A moment later several of the servants camesplashing over the little stream, and found Cornelia alone beside thegreat cypress, pale and trembling and sobbing. Drusus caught one lastsight of her, surrounded by the torches of the pursuers. Then hestruck off into the grove, and thanks to his perfect local knowledgeeasily avoided meeting Lentulus or his slaves. Lentulus he wouldgladly have confronted alone. What would have followed, the athleticyoung man could only surmise grimly; but he was unarmed, and forCornelia's sake he must take no risks. 

Close to the confines of his own land he met the Mamerci, father andson, and several slaves and freedmen, all armed and anxious to knowwhether the din that had been raised over at the Lentulan villabetokened any danger to their young master. 

Drusus satisfied them that he had suffered no injury. The personalperil through which he had passed brought a reaction of excitementwhich raised his spirits, and he went to bed in a mood at leasttolerably cheerful. If he could not enjoy his love, he had at leastsomething else to live for--vengeance; and he told himself that he hada whole mature lifetime left in which to make Lentulus repent of hisfolly and tyrannical cruelty. He awoke late the next morn in a calmframe of mind, and was able to receive with outward equanimity thenews that early in the morning Lentulus had taken his sister-in-lawand niece, and a large part of his household, back to Rome. This wasonly to have been expected, and Drusus listened to the informationwithout useless comment. 

Chapter VI

Pompeius Magnus

If we had been painting an ideal heroine, gifted with all the virtueswhich Christian traditions of female perfection throw around suchcharacters, Cornelia would have resigned herself quietly to theinevitable, and exhibited a seraphic serenity amid tribulation. Butshe was only a grieved, embittered, disappointed, sorely wronged, Pagan maiden, who had received few enough lessons in forbearance andmeekness. And now that her natural sweetness of character had receivedso severe a shock, she vented too often the rage she felt against heruncle upon her helpless servants. Her maid Cassandra--who was the onethat had told Lentulus of her mistress's nocturnal meeting withDrusus--soon felt the weight of Cornelia's wrath. The young lady, assoon as Lentulus was out of the way, caused the tell-tale to receive acruel whipping, which kept the poor slave-girl groaning in her cellfor ten days, and did not relieve Cornelia's own distress in theslightest degree. As a matter of fact, Cornelia was perpetually goadedinto fresh outbursts of desperation by the tyrannical attitude of heruncle. Lentulus boasted in her presence that he would accomplishDrusus's undoing. "I'll imitate Sulla, " he would announce, in meanpleasure at giving his niece pain; "I'll see how many heads I can haveset up as he did at the Lacus Servilius. You can go _there_, if youwish to kiss your lover. "

But Cornelia's life at Rome was rendered unhappy by many other thingsbesides these occasional brutal stabs from her uncle. Her mother, ashas been hinted, was a woman of the world, and had an intense desireto draw her daughter into her own circle of society. Claudia cared forCornelia in a manner, and believed it was a real kindness to tear thepoor girl away from her solitary broodings and plunge her into thewhirl of the world of Roman fashion. Claudia had become an intimate ofClodia, the widow of Quintus Metellus, a woman of remarkable gifts anda notoriously profligate character. "The Medea of the Palatine Hill, "Cicero had bitingly styled her. Nearly all the youth of parts andsocial distinction enjoyed the wild pleasures of Clodia's garden bythe Tiber. Catullus the poet, Cælius the brilliant young politician, and many another had figured as lovers of this soulless and enchantingwoman. And into Clodia's gilded circle Claudia tried desperately todrag her daughter. The Lentuli had a handsome palace on the Carinæ, one of the most fashionable quarters of the capital; and here therewere many gay gatherings and dinner parties. Cornelia was well bornenough, by reputation wealthy enough, and in feature handsome enough, to have a goodly proportion of the young men of this coterie herdevoted admirers and slaves. Claudia observed her daughter's socialtriumphs with glee, and did all she could to give Cornelia plenty ofthis kind of company. Cornelia would not have been a mortal woman ifshe had not taken a certain amount of pleasure in noticing andexercising her power. The first occasion when she appeared at a formalbanquet in the splendid Apollo dinner hall of the Luculli, where theoutlay on the feast was fixed by a regular scale at two hundredthousand sesterces, she gathered no little satisfaction by theconsciousness that all the young men were admiring her, and all thewomen were fuming with jealousy. But this life was unspeakablywearisome, after the first novelty had worn away. Cornelia lived in anage when many of the common proprieties and decencies of our presentsociety would have been counted prudish, but she could not close hereyes to the looseness and license that pervaded her mother's world. Woman had become almost entirely independent of man in social andeconomic matters, though the law still kept its fictions of tutelage. Honourable marriages were growing fewer and fewer. Divorces weremultiplying. The morality of the time can be judged from the fact thatthe "immaculate" Marcus Cato separated from his wife that a friendmight marry her; and when the friend died, married her himself again. Scandals and love intrigues were common in the highest circles; nobleladies, and not ballet-dancers[86] merely, thought it of littleaccount to have their names besmirched. Everything in society wassplendid, polished, decorous, cultivated without; but within, hollowand rotten. 

 [86] _Mimæ_. 

Cornelia grew weary and sick of the excitement, the fashionablechatter, the mongering of low gossips. She loathed the sight of theeffeminate young fops who tried to win her smiles by presentingthemselves for a polite call each morning, polished and furbelowed, and rubbed sleek and smooth with Catanian pumice. Her mother disgustedher so utterly that she began to entertain the most unfilial feelingtoward the worthy woman. Cornelia would not or could not understandthat in such hot weather it was proper to wear lighter rings than inwinter, and that each ring must be set carefully on a different fingerjoint to prevent touching. Cornelia watched her servants, and reachedthe astonishing conclusion that these humble creatures were reallyextracting more pleasure out of life than herself. Cassandra hadrecovered from her whipping, and was bustling about her tasks as ifnothing had happened. Agias seemed to have a never failing fund ofgood spirits. He was always ready to tell the funniest stories orretail the latest news. Once or twice he brought his mistressunspeakable delight, by smuggling into the house letters from Drusus, which contained words of love and hope, if no really substantialpromises for the future. But this was poor enough comfort. Drususwrote that he could not for the time see that any good end would beserved by coming to Rome, and he would remain for the present inPræneste. He and she must try to wait in patience, until politics tooksuch a turn as would drive Lentulus into a more tractable attitude. Cornelia found the days monotonous and dreary. Her uncle's freedmankept her under constant espionage to prevent a chance meeting withDrusus, and but for Agias she would have been little better than aprisoner, ever in charge of his keepers. 

In a way, however, Cornelia found that there was enough stirring inthe outside world to lend zest and often venom to the averageemptiness of polite conversation. Politics were penetrating deeper anddeeper into fashionable society. Cornelia heard how Paulus, theconsul, had taken a large present from Cæsar to preserve neutrality;and how Curio, the tribune, had checked Clodius Marcellus, the otherconsul, when he wished to take steps in the Senate against Cæsar. Allthat Cornelia heard of that absent statesman was from hostile lips;consequently she had him painted to her as blood-thirsty, treacherous, of flagrant immorality, with his one object to gather a band ofkindred spirits to his cause, and become despot. And to hear suchreports and yet to keep confident that Drusus was not sacrificing bothhimself and her in a worse than unworthy cause--this tested her to theuttermost. 

To add to her troubles, Lucius Ahenobarbus was ever thrusting in hisattentions at every party and at the theatre; and her uncle openlyfavoured his suit. 

"I wish you would be more friendly to him, " remarked Lentulus on oneoccasion. "I should be glad to have a closer tie between his familyand ours. "

"Uncle, " said Cornelia, much distressed, "I do not think I understandwhat you mean. "

"Well, " chuckled Lentulus, moving away, "think it over until you dounderstand. "

Cornelia had been reading in the library when this conversation tookplace. There was to be another party that evening at the house ofMarcus Favonius, a prominent anti-Cæsarian, and since it was growinglate in the afternoon, it was time to dress. Cornelia went into herown room, and was summoning her maids, when a young lady of about herown age, who affected to be on terms of considerable intimacy, wasannounced--Herennia, a daughter of a certain rich old eques, CaiusPontius, who had kept out of politics and hoarded money, which hisdaughter was doing her best to spend. 

Herennia was already dressed for the party. Her brown hair had beenpiled up in an enormous mass on her head, eked out by false tressesand puffings, and the whole plentifully powdered with gold dust. Shewore a prodigious number of gaudily set rings; her neck and ears andgirdle were ablaze with gold and jewels. So far from aiming, as domodern ladies, to reduce the waist to the slenderest possibleproportions, Herennia, who was actually quite thin, had carefullypadded out her form to proper dimensions, and showed this fact by herconstrained motions. She was rouged and painted, and around herfloated an incense of a thousand and one rare perfumes. Heramethystine tunic and palla were of pure silk--then literally worthits weight in gold--and embroidered with an elaborate pattern in whichpearls and other gems played a conspicuous part. For all this displayof extravagance, Herennia was of only very mediocre beauty; and it wason this account that she was always glad to make uncomfortable flingsat her "dear friend" Cornelia, whenever possible. 

Herennia seated herself on a divan, and proceeded to plunge into allthe flying gossip of the day. Incidentally she managed to hint thatServius Maccus, her devoted admirer, had told her that the nightbefore Lucius Ahenobarbus and some of his friends had attacked andinsulted a lady on her way back from a late dinner. [87]

 [87] A common diversion for "young men of spirit. "

"The outrageous scapegrace!" cried Cornelia, while her maids hurriedalong a toilet which, if not as elaborate as Herennia's, took somelittle time. "I imagined he might do such things! I always detestedhim!"

"Then you are not so very fond of Lucius Ahenobarbus, " said Herennia, raising her carefully painted eyebrows, as if in astonishment. "I amreally a little surprised. "

"Surprised?" reëchoed Cornelia. "What have I done or said that makesLucius Ahenobarbus anything more than a very distant, a _very_ distantacquaintance?"

"My dear girl, " exclaimed Herennia, throwing up her hands, "either youare the best actress, or the most innocent little wight, in Rome!Don't you know all that they say about you?"

"Who--say--what--about--me?" stammered Cornelia, rising in her chairso suddenly, as to disarrange all the work Cassandra had been doing onher hair. 

"Why, everybody, " said Herennia, smiling with an exasperatingdeliberation. "And then it has all come out in the daily gazette. "[88]

 [88] _Acta Diurna_, prepared officially. 

"Where is it? Read! Let me see, " pleaded Cornelia, agitated andtrembling. 

"Why, how troubled you are, " giggled Herennia. "Yes, I have myfreedman copy down the whole bulletin every day, as soon as it isposted by the censor's officers; now let me see, " and she producedfrom under her robe a number of wooden, wax-covered tablets, strungtogether: "the last prætor's edict; the will of old Publius Blæsus;"and she ran over the headings with maddening slowness: "the speech inthe Senate of Curio--what an impudent rascal; the money paid yesterdayinto the treasury, --how dull to copy all that down!--the meteor whichfell over in Tibur, and was such a prodigy; oh, yes, here it is atlast; you may as well hear what all Rome knows now, it's at the end, among the private affairs. 'Lucius Ahenobarbus, son of LuciusDomitius, the Consular, and Cornelia, daughter of the late tribune, Caius Lentulus, are in love. They will be married soon. '"

These two brief sentences, which the mechanical difficulties underwhich journalistic enterprise laboured at that day made it impossibleto expand into a modern "article, " were quite sufficient to tell awhole story to Rome. Cornelia realized instantly that she had beenmade the victim of some vile trick, which she doubted not her would-belover and her uncle had executed in collusion. She took the tabletsfrom Herennia's hand, without a word, read the falsehoods once, twice, thrice. The meaning of the day attached to the terms used intimatedthe existence of a low intrigue, quite as much as any honourable"engagement. " If Cornelia did not soon become the lawful wife ofLucius Ahenobarbus, the world would feel justified in piling scandalupon her name. The blow was numbing in its brutality. Instead ofcrying and execrating the liars, as Herennia fully expected her to do, Cornelia merely handed back the tablets, and said with cold dignity, "I think some very unfortunate mistake has been made. LuciusAhenobarbus is no friend of mine. Will you be so kind as to leave mewith my maids?"

Herennia was overborne by the calm, commanding attitude of the rivalshe had meant to annoy. When Cornelia became not the radiant_debutante_, but the haughty patrician lady, there was that about herwhich made her wish a mandate. Herennia, in some confusion, withdrew. When she was gone, Cornelia ordered her maids out of the room, stripped off the golden tiara they had been plaiting into her hair, tore away the rings, bracelets, necklaces, and flung herself upon thepillows of the divan, quivering with sobs. She did not know of asingle friend who could help her. All the knowledge that she hadimbibed taught her that there was no God either to hear prayer, orsuccour the wronged. Her name would become a laughing-stock and ahissing, to be put on a par with Clodia's or that of any otherfrivolous woman, unless she not merely gave up the man she loved, butalso threw herself into the arms of the man she utterly hated. Thecraving for any respite was intense. She was young; but for themoment, at least, life had lost every glamour. If death was an endlesssleep, why not welcome it as a blessed release? The idea of suicidehad a grasp on the ancient world which it is hard at first toestimate. A healthy reaction might have stirred Cornelia out of herdespair, but at that instant the impulse needed to make her commit anirrevocable deed must have been very slight. But while she lay on thepillows, wretched and heart-sick, the voice of Agias was heardwithout, bidding the maids admit him to their mistress. 

"Stay outside. I can't see you now, " moaned poor Cornelia, feelingthat for once the sight of the good-humoured, vivacious slave-boywould be maddening. But Agias thrust back the curtains and boldlyentered. What he said will be told in its due time and place; but themoment he had gone Cornelia was calling in Cassandra, and ordering themaids to dress her with all possible speed for the dinner-party. 

"I must be all smiles, all enchantments, " she was saying to herself. "I must dissemble. I must win confidences. I must do everything, andanything. I have no right to indulge in grief any longer. Quintus'sdear life is at stake!"

II

Lentulus did not go to the banquet of Favonius, to see the unwontedgraciousness with which his niece received the advances of LuciusAhenobarbus, Neither was Favonius himself present at his ownentertainment. They, and several others of the high magnates of theirparty, had been called away by an urgent summons, and spent theevening in secluded conference with no less a personage than Pompeius, or as he dearly loved to be called, "the Magnus, " in his splendidpalace outside the walls on the Campus Martius. And here the conquerorof Mithridates--a stout, soldierly man of six-and-fifty, whose bestquality was a certain sense of financial honesty, and whose worst anextreme susceptibility to the grossest adulation--told them that hehad received letters from Labienus, Cæsar's most trusted lieutenant inGaul, declaring that the proconsul's troops would never fight for him, that Cæsar would never be able to stir hand or foot against thedecrees of the Senate, and that he, Labienus, would desert him at thefirst opportunity. 

Cheerful news this to the noble lords, who had for years scented inCæsar's existence and prosperity destruction to their own oligarchicrule of almost the known world. But when Cato, the most violentanti-Cæsarian of them all, a sharp, wiry man with angular features, and keen black eyes, demanded:--

"And now, Magnus, you will not hesitate to annihilate the enemies ofthe Republic?" a look of pained indecision flitted across Pompeius'sface. 

"_Perpol_, gentlemen, " he exclaimed, "I would that I were well out ofthis. Sometimes I think that you are leading me into breaking withCæsar for some ends of your own. He was my friend before you had aword of praise for me. He loved Julia; so did I. " And the Magnuspaused a moment, overcome by the thought of his dead wife. "Perhapsthe Republic demands his sacrifice, perhaps--" and he cast a glancehalf of menace upon Lentulus Crus and Cato, "you are the guilty, nothe. But I am in grievous doubt. "

"Perhaps, Magnus, " said Favonius, with half a sneer, "you think yourforces inadequate. The two legions at Luceria are just detached fromCæsar. Perhaps you question their fidelity. "

"Man, " retorted the general, fiercely, bringing his foot down upon thesoft rug on the floor, "I have but to stamp upon the ground to call uplegions out of Italy; it is not that which I fear!"

The members of the conference looked uneasy; there was still a barechance that Pompeius would go back to his old friendship with Cæsar. 

"Gentlemen, " went on the Magnus, "I have called you here to reach afinal decision--peace or war. Let us consult a higher power thanhuman. " And he touched a little silver bell that was upon the tableclose at hand. 

Forthwith there was a rustle of curtains, and out of the gloom of thedoorway--for the hour was now very late--advanced a tall, gauntfigure, dressed in a plain, sleeveless robe that fell to the feet. Theskin was dry, hard, wrinkled by a hundred furrows; the bones of theface were thrust out prominently; on the head was a plain whiteturban, and a beard quite as white fell down upon the breast. Onlyfrom under the turban shone the eyes, which were bright and piercingas coals of fire. 

The stranger advanced without a word, till he stood before Pompeius, then knelt and made an elaborate Oriental prostration. The nobleRomans, twelve or more of the magnates of the greatest power on theearth, held their breath in uneasy anticipation. Not one of themperhaps really believed in a personal god; but though atheists, theycould not forswear their superstition. Piso, the censor, whonotoriously feared neither divine nor human law in his reckless life, spat thrice to ward off the effects of the evil eye, if the strangerwere a magician. 

"Ulamhala, " said Pompeius, addressing the newcomer, "arise. Since Ihave been in the East, [89] I have consulted you and your science ofthe stars, in every intended step, and your warnings have neverfailed. "

 [89] "Chaldean" astrologers played an almost incredibly important part among even the highest-class Romans of the period. 

"My lord doth overcommend the wisdom of his slave, " replied Ulamhala(for such was his name) in Syriac Greek, with a second deep obeisance. 

"Now, therefore, " went on Pompeius--and his voice was unsteady withevident excitement and anxiety, --"I have called you hither to declarethe warnings of the stars upon the most important step of my life. What lies now at stake, you know full well. Three days ago I bade youconsult the heavens, that this night you might be able to declaretheir message, not merely to me, but to these my friends, who willshape their actions by mine. Have you a response from the planets?"

"I have, lord, " and again Ulamhala salaamed. 

"Then declare, be it good or ill;" commanded Pompeius, and he grippedthe arms of his chair to conceal his anxiety. 

The scene was in a way weird enough. The visitors exchanged uneasyglances, and Cato, who broke out in some silly remark to Favonius, ina bold attempt to interrupt the oppressive silence, suddenly found hiswords growing thick and broken, and he abruptly became silent. Eachman present tried to tell himself that Pompeius was a victim ofsuperstition, but every individual felt an inward monition thatsomething portentous was about to be uttered. 

The conference had lasted long. The lamps were flickering low. Darkshadows were loitering in every corner of the room. The aroma offlowers from the adjacent gardens floated in at the open windows, andmade the hot air drugged and heavy. Ulamhala slowly and noiseless as acat stepped to the window, and, leaning out over the marble railing, looked up into the violet-black heavens. There was no moon, but atrembling flame on one of the candelabras threw a dull, ruddy glowover his white dress and snowy turban. His face was hid in the gloom, but the others knew, though they could hardly see, that he waspointing upward with his right hand. 

"Behold, " began the astrologer, "three thousand seven hundred andfifty years since the days of the great Sargon of Agade have we of therace of the Chaldeans studied the stars. One generation of watcherssucceeded another, scanning the heavens nightly from our_ziggurats_, [90] and we have learned the laws of the constellations;the laws of Sin the moon, the laws of Samas the sun, the laws of theplanets, the laws of the fixed stars. Their motions and theirinfluence on the affairs of men our fathers discovered, and havehanded their wisdom down to us. "

 [90] Babylonian temple towers. 

"But the word of the stars to _us_?" broke in Pompeius, in extremedisquietude, and trying to shake off the spell that held him inmastery. 

"Know, lord, that thy slave has not been disobedient unto thycommandment. Look, yonder burneth a bright red planet, called by usNergal, which ye Westerns call by the name of Mars. Who denieth thatwhen Mars shines in the heavens, war will break forth among men? Knowthat I have carefully compared the settings, risings, and movements ofthe planets at this season with their settings, risings, and movementsat the time when my lord was born; and also at the time of the birthof his great enemy. I have made use of the tables which my wisepredecessors among the Chaldees have prepared; and which I myself, thyslave, copied from those at the Temple of Bel, in Babylon. "

"And they say?" breathlessly interrupted Lentulus. 

"This is the message from the planets, " and Ulamhala's form grewhigher, his voice firmer; he raised his long bony arms above his head, and stood in the dull light like a skeleton arisen in all its whitegrave clothes to convey a warning to the living. "To the LordPompeius, this is the warning, and to his enemy, "'_He that is highest shall rise yet higher; He that is second shall utterly fall!_'

I have said. "

And before the noble Romans could command the free play of theirsenses, the vision at the window had vanished, either out of doors, orbehind some doorway or curtain. The company sat gazing uneasily ateach other for several minutes. The Magnus was breathing heavily, asthough he had passed through a terrible mental ordeal. Cato, the Stoicand ascetic, had his eyes riveted on the carpet, and his face was asstony as an Egyptian Colossus. 

Then a coarse forced laugh from Piso broke the spell. 

"Capital, Pompeius! You _are_ a favourite of the gods!"

"I?" ventured the Magnus, moving his lips slowly. 

"Of course, " cried several voices at once, catching the cue from Piso. "You are the first in the world, Cæsar the second! You are to rise tonew glories, and Cæsar is to utterly fall!"

"The stars have said it, gentlemen, " said Pompeius, solemnly; "Cæsarshall meet his fate. Let there be war. "

 * * * * *

Lentulus Crus rode away from the conference, his litter side by sidewith that of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, the consular, whom we willknow as Domitius to distinguish from his son and namesake. Domitius, ahandsome, highly polished, vigorous, but none the less unprincipledman, who was just reaching the turn of years, was in high spirits. Nooligarch hated Cæsar more violently than he, and the decision ofPompeius was a great personal triumph, the crowning of many years ofpolitical intrigue. What Pompeius had said, he had said; and Cæsar, the great foe of the Senate party, was a doomed man. 

Lentulus had a question to ask his companion. 

"Would you care to consider a marriage alliance between the Lentuliand the Domitii?" was his proposition. 

"I should be rejoiced and honoured to have the opportunity, " was thereply; and then in another tone Domitius added, "Lentulus, do youbelieve in astrologers?"

"I do not really know, " answered the other, uneasily. 

"Neither do I, " continued Domitius. "But suppose the stars speaktruly; and suppose, " and here his voice fell, "it is Cæsar who ishighest in power, in ability, in good fortune;--what then forPompeius? for us?"

"Be silent, O prophet of evil!" retorted Lentulus, laughing, but notvery naturally. 

Chapter VII

Agias's Adventure

I

Pisander's view of life became a score of shades more rosy when heseized the hand of the handsome slave-boy, then embraced him, andbegan praising the gods for preserving his favourite's life. Then theworthy philosopher recollected that his wisdom taught him there wereno gods, and he plunged into a rambling explanation of his position, which would have lasted forever, unless Agias had cut him short with amerry gibe, and told him that he must positively come to a tavern andenjoy at least one beaker of good Massic in memory of old friendship. And Pisander, whose spareness of living arose more from a lack ofmeans than from a philosophic aversion to food and good cheer, wassoon seated on a bench in one of the cheap restaurants[91] thatabounded in the city, balancing a very large goblet, and receiving avolley of questions which Agias was discharging about Valeria'seccentricities, Calatinus's canvass, Arsinoë, Semiramis, and the restof the household of which he had been a member. 

 [91] _Popinæ_. 

"But you haven't told me, Agias, " finally interrupted the poorphilosopher, who had been struggling in turn to satisfy his curiosity, "how you are here, and not--ugh! I hate to think of it--feeding thedogs and the crows. "

Agias's face grew grave while he gave the story of his release by theVestal, and subsequent transfer of ownership. 

"What was the name of the young man who purchased you, eh?"interpolated Pisander. "I didn't get it. "

"Quintus Livius Drusus, " replied Agias. 

"Who?" cried the philosopher, starting up. 

"Quintus Drusus, of Præneste, " repeated the other. 

"_Ai! Ai!_ In the name of Zeus!" cried Pisander, dropping the beaker, and spilling the wine all over his threadbare himation. "Oh, such aplot! Such a crime! Was ever anything so villanous ever heard ofbefore!"

"My dear Pisander, " exclaimed Agias, all amazement, "what _is_ thematter? Your speech is as obscure as Cinna's[92] poem called 'Zmyrna, 'which I've heard was ten years in being written, and must be veryfine, because no one can understand it. No more can I fathom you. "

 [92] A poet at that time of some little reputation. 

"What a stroke of fortune!" raved the philosopher. "How we will berevenged on that rascal, Pratinas! O Destiny, thy decrees are just!"

Again Agias expostulated, and at last brought out of Pisander atolerably coherent account of the conversation which he had heardbetween Valeria and Pratinas. Then, indeed, the merry slave-boy wastroubled. Accustomed to a rather limited ambition in life, he hadattached himself with implicit devotion to Cornelia; first because hispreserver, Drusus, had so enjoined him, and second because each day hegrew more drawn to her personally. The peril which yawned before theunfortunate Drusus menaced at the same time the happiness of hismistress and his own welfare, --for if Lucius Ahenobarbus had his way, Agias himself would become the slave of that not very gentlepatrician. Cornelia and Drusus had had troubles enough before; but inthe present crisis, actual destruction stared Agias's saviour in theface. The situation was maddening, was sickening. Agias wrung hishands in anguish. Then came the healthy reaction. Drusus was stillalive and well. He could be warned. The plot could be thwarted. Pratinas and Ahenobarbus were not yet beyond the reach of retribution. He--Agias--was no longer to be a mere foot-boy and lackey; he was tomatch his keen Greek wits in subtle intrigue against foemen worthy ofhis steel. He would save Drusus's life, would save Cornelia'shappiness. If he succeeded, who knew but that his owner would rewardhim--would give him freedom. And with a natural rebound of spirits, Agias's eyes glittered with expectation and excitement, his cheeksflushed, his form expanded to a manly height. 

"_Euge!_ Well done, old friend!" he cried, with the merriment ofintense excitement. "No matter if you say you were only able to hear asmall part of what our dear fellow-Hellene, Pratinas, told Valeria. Ihave gathered enough to defeat the plotters. Leave all to me. If youlearn anything new, send word to the house of Lentulus Crus, and askto see me. And now I must forsake this pleasant wine untasted, andhurry away. My mistress will bless you, and perhaps there will be somereward. "

And leaving the bewildered Pisander to wipe the wine from his dress, Agias had darted out of the tavern, and was lost in the hurly-burly ofthe cattle-market. 

How Agias had forced his way into Cornelia's presence we have related. The young Greek had stated his unpleasant intelligence asdiplomatically and guardedly as possible; but Cornelia had borne thisshock--following so soon upon one sufficiently cruel--grievouslyenough. After all, she was only a girl--perhaps more mature for heryears than the average maiden of her age of to-day, but almostfriendless, hopeless, and beset with many trials. And this new one wasalmost more than she could bear. We have said that to her suicide hadbut just before appeared a refuge to be desired; but to have Quintusdie, to have him taken out of that life that ought to be so fair forhim, no matter how darksome it was for her; to have him never realizeher ambition that he become a statesman, warrior, philosopher, inshort her ideal hero--this was unbearable! This phase of the questionwas so overpowering that she forgot to feel rage against Ahenobarbusand his wily ally. Cornelia threw herself down upon the floor, andcried to Agias to slay her quickly. She did not care to live; shecould endure no more. 

Agias here manifested exquisite tact. Instead of attempting anyordinary means of expostulation, he pleaded with her not to give wayto despair; that Drusus was not yet at the mercy of his enemies; thatshe, if she would, could do an infinite deal to assist him. 

"I save Quintus?" questioned Cornelia, with white, quivering lips. 

"You can do much, my lady, " replied Agias, kindly taking her by thehand, and with gentle pressure forcing her to sit on the divan. "Youcan do what neither I, nor Pisander, nor any one else can accomplish. You can make Lucius Ahenobarbus betray his own plot. You, and youonly, can penetrate the final plans of the conspirators. Therefore bestrong, and do not despair. "

"I? What can _I_ do?" cried Cornelia, staring at him with sad, tearless eyes. 

"Lady Cornelia, " said Agias, delicately, "Drusus would never receiveback his life if it were to be purchased by any sacrifice of honour onyour part. But this is not needed. Lucius Ahenobarbus--forgive myplain speech--worships the ground whereon you tread. A smile from youraises him to Olympus; a compliment from you makes him feel himself agod; a soft word from you creates him the peer of Zeus. Lady, I knowyou hate that man; but for Master Drusus's sake make Ahenobarbusbelieve that you are not indifferent to his advances. Slander Drususbefore him. Complain of the provisions of your father's will that, despite your uncle's intention, will make it difficult to avoid ahateful marriage. If in the past you have been cold to Ahenobarbus, grow gracious; but not too rapidly. Finally, at the proper time, donot hesitate to urge him to commit the act we know he is meditating. Then he will make you a full partner of his plot, and Pratinas and hecan be permanently thwarted. "

"You say that Drusus can be saved by this?" asked Cornelia, steadyingherself as she rose from the divan;

"I will warn him at once, " replied Agias. "Any premature attempt onhis life will certainly fail. But it is not Ahenobarbus that I fear;it is Pratinas. Pratinas, if baffled once, will only be spurred on touse all his cunning in a second trial. We must enmesh the conspiratorsso completely that when their stab is parried, not merely will theirpower to repeat it be gone, but they themselves will be in danger ofretribution. And for this, some one must be confederate to their finalplan. "

"Agias, " said Cornelia, quietly, "Quintus said that you would be afaithful servant to him and to myself. I believe he was right. Youhave asked a great thing of me, Agias. I would not do it unless Ibelieved that you were unlike other slaves. I might imagine thatLucius Ahenobarbus had bribed you to tell me this story, in order thatI should put myself in his power. But I trust you. I will do anythingyou say. For you Hellenes have wits as keen as sharp steel, and I knowthat you will do all you may to repay your debt to Quintus. "

Agias knelt down and kissed the robe of his mistress. "My lady, " hesaid gently, "it is no grievous thing to be a slave of such as you. Believe me; I will not betray my trust. And now if you can let meleave you, I will hurry to Præneste, and for the present our minds maybe at rest. For old Mamercus will, I am sure, be able to take goodcare of Master Drusus for yet awhile. "

"Go, and the gods--if there be gods--go with you!" replied Cornelia. Agias kissed her robe a second time, and was gone. His mistress stoodin the middle of the empty room. On the wall facing her was a paintingof "Aphrodite rising from the Foam, " which Drusus had given her. Thesensuous smiles on the face of the goddess sickened Cornelia, as shelooked upon it. To her, at the moment, laughter was more hideous thanany sobbing. Outside the door she heard the gay, witless chatter ofthe maids and the valets. They were happy--they--slaves, "speakingtools, "--and she with the blood of the Claudii and Cornelii in herveins, a patrician among patricians, the niece of a consul-elect, awoman who was the heiress of statesmen and overturners ofkingdoms, --_she_ was miserable beyond endurance. Cornelia paced up anddown the room, wishing she might order the giggling maids to beflogged and their laughter turned into howling. Then she summonedCassandra. 

 * * * * *

Cornelia had never before tried to play the actress, but that nightshe flung herself into the game for life and death with all theearnestness of an energetic, intelligent, and spontaneous woman. Shehad been barely civil to Lucius Ahenobarbus before; to-night the youngman began to persuade himself that the object of his affections wasreally a most adorable coquette, who used a certain brusqueness ofspeech to add to her witchery. He had heard that there had been somevery disagreeable scenes at Præneste, when Lentulus had told his niecethat Drusus, on account of his dangerous politics, was unfit to be herhusband. But Ahenobarbus was sure that either these accounts wereexaggerated, or more likely, Cornelia, like most women, was quick tofall in love and quick to leave an old sweetheart for a new one. Bethat as it may, Lucius felt that night on good terms with himself andall the world. Phormio had consented to continue his loans--until hisdebtor could realize on "certain property. " Pratinas had said thatDumnorix would shortly start with a band of gladiators for some localfestival at Anagnia, a little beyond Præneste; and on the way back, ifnothing went amiss, the prearranged programme could be carried out. Some pretext must be found for keeping Drusus on his estate at thetime when Dumnorix would march past it, and that task could beconfided to Phaon, Lucius's freedman, a sly fox entirely after hispatron's own heart. 

Cornelia, to whom the dinner-party at Favonius's house began as adreary enough tragedy, before long discovered that it was by no meansmore easy to suck undiluted sorrow than unmixed gladness out of life. It gratified her to imagine the rage and dismay of the young exquisitewhose couch was beside her chair, [93] when he should learn howcompletely he had been duped. Then, too, Lucius Ahenobarbus had avoluble flow of polite small talk, and he knew how to display hisaccomplishments to full advantage. He had a fair share of wit andhumour; and when he fancied that Cornelia was not impervious to hisadvances, he became more agreeable and more ardent. Once or twiceCornelia frightened herself by laughing without conscious forcing. Yetit was an immense relief to her when the banquet was over, and theguests--for Favonius had ordered that none should be given enough wineto be absolutely drunken--called for their sandals and litters andwent their ways. 

 [93] Women sat at Roman banquets, unless the company was of a questionable character. 

"And you, O Adorable, Calypso, Circe, Nausicaä, Medea, --what shall Icall you?--you will not be angry if I call to see you to-morrow?" saidAhenobarbus, smiling as he parted from Cornelia. 

"If you come, " was her response, "I shall not perhaps order the slavesto pitch you out heels over head. "

"Ah! That is a guarded assent, indeed, " laughed Lucius, "but farewell, _pulcherrima!_"[94]

 [94] Most beautiful. 

Cornelia that night lay down and sobbed herself to sleep. Her motherhad congratulated her on her brilliant social success at thedinner-party, and had praised her for treating Lucius Ahenobarbus asshe had. 

"You know, my dear, " the worthy woman had concluded, "that since ithas seemed necessary to break off with Drusus, a marriage with Luciuswould be at once recommended by your father's will, and in many wayshighly desirable. "

II

Only a very few days later Lucius Ahenobarbus received a messagebidding him come to see his father at the family palace on thePalatine. Lucius had almost cut himself clear from his relations. Hehad his own bachelor apartments, and Domitius had been glad to havehim out of the way. A sort of fiction existed that he was legallyunder _the patria potestas_, [95] and could only have debts and assetson his father's responsibility, but as a matter of fact his parentseldom paid him any attention; and only called on him to report athome when there was a public or family festival, or something veryimportant. Consequently he knew that matters serious were on foot, when he read in his father's note a request to visit Domitius's palaceas soon as convenient. Lucius was just starting, in his most spotlesstoga, --after a prolonged season with his hairdresser, --to pay amorning call on Cornelia, and so he was the more vexed and perturbed. 

 [95] Sons remained under the legal control of a father until the latter's death, unless the tie was dissolved by elaborate ceremonies. 

"Curses on Cato, [96] my old uncle, " he muttered, while he waited inthe splendid atrium of the house of the Ahenobarbi. "He has beenrating my father about my pranks with Gabinius and Læca, and somethingunpleasant is in store for me. "

 [96] Cato Minor's sister Portia was the wife of Lucius Domitius. Cato was also connected with the Drusi through Marcus Livius Drusus, the murdered reformer, who was the maternal uncle of Cato and Portia. Lucius Ahenobarbus and Quintus Drusus were thus third cousins. 

Domitius presently appeared, and his son soon noticed by the affableyet diplomatic manner of his father, and the gentle warmth of hisgreeting, that although there was something in the background, it wasnot necessarily very disagreeable. 

"My dear Lucius, " began Domitius, after the first civilities wereover, and the father and son had strolled into a handsomely appointedlibrary and taken seats on a deeply upholstered couch, "I have, Ithink, been an indulgent parent. But I must tell you, I have heardsome very bad stories of late about your manner of life. "

"Oh!" replied Lucius, smiling. "As your worthy friend Cicero remarkedwhen defending young Cælius, 'those sorts of reproaches are regularlyheaped on every one whose person or appearance in youth is at allgentlemanly. '"

"I will thank you if you will not quote Cicero to me, " replied theelder man, a little tartly. "He will soon be back from Cilicia, andwill be prodding and wearying us in the Senate quite enough, with hisrhetoric and sophistries. But I must be more precise. I have found outhow much you owe Phormio. I thought your dead uncle had left you amoderately large estate for a young man. Where has it gone to? Don'ttry to conceal it! It's been eaten up and drunk up--spent away forunguents, washed away in your baths, the fish-dealer and the catererhave made way with it, yes, and butchers and cooks, and greengrocersand perfume sellers, and poulterers--not to mention people morescandalous--have made off with it. "

Lucius stretched himself out on the divan, caught at a thick, richlyembroidered pillow, tossed it over his head on to the floor, yawned, raised himself again upright, and said drawlingly:--

"Y-e-s, it's as you say. I find I spend every sesterce I have, and allI can borrow. But so long as Phormio is accommodating, I don't troublemyself very much about the debts. "

"Lucius, " said Domitius, sternly, "you are a graceless spendthrift. Ofcourse you must have the sport which all young blood needs. But yourextravagance goes beyond all bounds. I call myself a rich man, but toleave you half my fortune, dividing with your older brother Cnæus, whois a far steadier and saner man than you, would be to assure myselfthat Greek parasites and low women would riot through that part of myestate in a twelvemonth. You must reform, Lucius; you must reform. "

This was getting extremely disagreeable in spite of his expectations, and the young man yawned a second time, then answered:--

"Well, I presume Uncle Cato has told you all kinds of stories; butthey aren't at all true. I really never had a great deal of money. "

"Lucius, " went on his father, "you are grown to manhood. It is timethat you steadied in life. I have let you live by yourself too long. You are even too indolent to engage in politics, or to go into thearmy. I have come to a determination. You must marry the woman I haveselected for you. "

Ahenobarbus pricked up his ears. As a matter of fact, he had surmisedwhat was coming, but he had no intention of admitting anythingprematurely. 

"Really, father, " he said, "I hope you won't use your legal right andforce a wife on me. I have no desire to tie myself up to a decentmarried life. "

"I hardly think, " said Domitius, smiling, "that you will resist mywishes long. I have seen Lentulus Crus the consul-elect, and he and Iagree that since your mother's distant kinsman Quintus Drusus ofPræneste is an unsuitable husband for Cornelia, Lentulus's niece, onaccount of his very dangerous political tendencies, no happieralliance could bind our families together than a marriage betweenCornelia and yourself. "

Lucius yawned a third time and fell back on the couch. 

"It's true, " he ventured, "I have cared a good deal for Cornelia; andI've thrown over that little Greek Clyte and all the others for her;but then, to make a girl your sweetheart and to make her your wife aretwo very different things. _Vina Opimia_ is best; but because onedrinks a _cyathus_[97] of that, why should he forego a good nil ofThasian or Cæcuban? If I could have but one choice, give me plenty ofthe good, and I'll give up my few drops of the best. "

 [97] About one-twelfth pint. 

"Come, come, " said Domitius, a little impatiently, "you mustpositively reform. Besides, while appearances must be kept up, thereis no need for leading the life of a Stoic. You won't find Cornelia ahard companion. You have your pleasures and she hers, and you willlive harmoniously enough and not the least scandal. "

And with this remark Domitius closed the matter, and Lucius wasactually delighted at the situation. What his father had said had beentrue enough; half, nay, nearly all, Rome lived in the manner Domitiushad guardedly proposed for his son and intended daughter-in-law. Marriage was becoming more and more a mere formality, something thatwas kept up as the ancient state Pagan worship was kept up by theremnants of old-time superstition, and as a cloak to hide a multitudeof sins. Fifty-nine years before, the consul Metellus Numidicus haddeclaimed, "Quirites, we would fain be free from all this annoyance(of marriage); but since nature has so brought it about that it isneither possible to live pleasantly with our wives nor by any means tolive (as a race) without them, we ought to consider the welfare of thefuture rather than the mere passing pleasure of the present. " And eversince that day Romans had been striving desperately to make themarried state as endurable as possible; usually by reducing theimportance of lawful wedlock to a minimum. 

Of course the announcement of the informal betrothal was soon spreadover Rome. The contracting parties were in the very highest life, andeverybody declared that the whole affair was a political deal betweenLentulus Crus and Domitius. It was commonly reported, too, howCornelia had broken with Drusus, and every one remarked that if theyoung man had cared to enforce her father's will in the courts, hisclaim to her hand and fortune would be valid unless--and here mostpeople exchanged sly winks, for they knew the power of Domitius andLentulus Crus over a jury. 

And how had Cornelia borne it--she at whom Herennia had stared inamazement, when that "dear friend" discovered the friendship the otherwas displaying to Lucius Ahenobarbus? Cornelia had received theannouncement very quietly, one might almost say resignedly. She hadone great hope and consolation to support her. They would not forceher to marry Lucius Ahenobarbus until Drusus was dead or had reachedthe age of five-and-twenty. The marriage formula with Ahenobarbus onceuttered, while Quintus lived, and by no possibility, save by an openspoliation that would have stirred even calloused Rome, could Luciustouch a sesterce of his intended victim's property. Cornelia's hopenow, strangely enough, was in the man she regarded as the mostconsummate villain in the world, Pratinas. Ahenobarbus might have hisdebts paid by his father, and forego risk and crime if he did notabsolutely need Drusus's fortune; but Pratinas, she knew, must haveplanned to secure rich pickings of his own, and if Ahenobarbus marriedpermanently, all these were lost; and the Greeks never turned back orlet another turn back, when there was a fortune before them. It was afearful sort of confidence. Drusus had been warned promptly by Agias. Old Mamercus had straightway taken every precaution, and forced hisfoster son to put himself in a sort of custody, which was sufficientlygalling, in addition to the ever present sense of personal danger. Thevilla at Præneste was guarded quietly by several armed slaves andpeasants; not a morsel or drop passed Drusus's lips that had not beentested and tasted by a trusty dependent. The young man was not to goto Rome, despite his infinite yearning to see Cornelia, for everyopportunity would be given in the dark city streets for an assassin. In fact, Drusus was virtually a prisoner in his own estates, for onlythere could he feel reasonably safe from attack. 

All these precautions Cornelia knew, for Agias was a master atsmuggling letters in and out. She had told Drusus frankly all that hadpassed, and how that she was acting as she did only for his sake. Sheasked him to trust her, and he wrote back that no doubt of herfidelity to him had crossed his mind; he was not worthy of such loveas she had for him; it did not matter very much if Ahenobarbus didkill him, except that it would give her new grief and pain, and thethought of that he could not bear. Cornelia had replied that if Drususwas murdered, she was woman enough and Roman enough to stab LuciusAhenobarbus on their marriage night, and then plunge the dagger intoher own breast. And there the fearful matter had rested; Corneliasmiled by day, and dazzled all she met by her vivacity, and heraggressive queenliness; and by night cried with tearless sobs, whichcame out of the depths of her heart. And all the time she waited forAgias to foil the plot, and assure Drusus of his life. Let Quintusonce be safe, and then--how could she resist the irresistible pressurethat would be brought to bear to force her into a hated marriage, which Ahenobarbus--balked though he might be of a fortune--would nolonger care to defer? And when Cornelia thought of this, and when shewas alone, she would open a little casket, of which no other had thekey, and touch the ivory-carved hilt of a small damascened knife. Theblade was very sharp; and there was a sticky gum all along theedge, --deadly poison; only a very slight scratch put one beyond aid ofphysician. 

The bitterest cup of all was the attitude she felt forced to assumetoward Lucius Ahenobarbus. There were limits of familiarity andsimulated affection beyond which she could not drive herself to go. Lucius was with her at all hours and in all places. The more she sawof him the more she abhorred his effeminate sensuality and lack ofalmost every quality that made life worth the living. But shemust--she must learn the plot against Drusus, and precisely how andwhen the trap was to be sprung. And in a measure, at least so far asLucius was concerned, she succeeded. By continually and openlyreviling Quintus, by professing to doubt the legality of a marriagecontracted against the terms of her father's will, by all butexpressing the wish that her late lover were out of harm's way, shewon her point. In a fit of half-drunken confidence Ahenobarbus assuredher that she would not be troubled by Drusus for long; that he wouldsoon be unable to annoy her. And then came a great disappointment. When Cornelia asked--and how much the request cost her, only sheherself knew--to be let into the plot, Lucius owned that he had leftthe details in the hands of Pratinas, and did not himself know justhow or when the blow was to fall. In Pratinas--whom Cornelia met veryseldom--she met with a sphinx, ever smiling, ever gracious, but who, as if regretting the burst of confidence he had allowed Valeria, kepthimself closed to the insinuations and half-questions of every oneelse. The truth was, the lanista Dumnorix was unwilling to do his partof the business until the festival at Anagnia brought him and his bandthrough Præneste, and this festival had been postponed. Consequently, the projected murder had been postponed a few days also. Agias hadtried to penetrate into the secrets of Pratinas, but found thatjudicious intriguer had, as a rule, carefully covered his tracks. Hespent a good deal of time and money, which Cornelia gave him, tryingto corrupt some of the gladiators of Dumnorix's band and get at theintentions of their master; but he was not able to find that any ofthese wretches, who took his gold greedily enough, really knew in theleast what were the appointments and engagements of the Gallic giant. As a matter of fact, the boy began to feel decidedly discouraged. Pisander had nothing more to tell; and, moreover, the worthyphilosopher often gave such contradictory accounts of what he hadoverheard in Valeria's boudoir, that Agias was at his wit's end whenand where to begin. 

So passed the rest of the month since Cornelia had been brought fromPræneste to Rome. 

III

Cornelia began to grow sick at heart. The conviction was stealing overher that she was the victim of a cruel destiny, and it was useless tofight against fate. She had made sacrifices for Drusus's sake that hadcost her infinitely. All Rome said that Cornelia returned the love ofLucius Ahenobarbus. And with it all, she knew that she had notsucceeded in discovering the real plot of Pratinas, and could notthwart it. She knew that nearly every one placed her, if actually notas vicious as the rest, at least in the same coterie with Clodia, andthe wife of Lentulus Spinther the younger Metella, and only a gradebetter than such a woman as Arbuscula, the reigning actress of theday. There was no defence to offer to the world. Did she not go withher mother to the gay gathering, in the gardens by the Tiber? Was shenot waited on by half the fashionable young aristocrats of Rome? Wasshe not affianced to a man who was notoriously a leader of what mightto-day be called the "fast set" of the capital? And from Drusus, poorfellow, she gained not the least consolation. That he loved her as sheloved him, she had never cause to doubt. But in his self-renunciationhe gave her advice that sprang out of his own sorrow and pessimism. Itwas no use, ran his letters, for a woman like her to try and battleagainst the evident decrees of Fortune. He was a man, and must fighthis battle or die his death bravely; but she was not called on forthis. There was no reason why she should not really enjoy herself, inthe way most of the world thought she was enjoying herself. She hadbetter wed Lucius Ahenobarbus, and stoop to the inevitable. Herhusband could go his way and she go hers, and none would complain. Perhaps the Epicureans were right, --this life was all, and it was bestto suck from it all the sweets one might, and not be disturbed bypricks of conscience. Drusus and Cornelia were not lovers of a modernromance, to entertain fantastic ideas of love and duty, to throwthemselves away for a fancy, or tie themselves with vows whichmilitated against almost every worldly advantage. They were bothRomans, and by that we mean eminently practical persons, faithful toone another, pure and noble in their affections, but habituated tolook a situation in the face and accept the plain consequences. Inthis spirit Drusus had advised as he did, and Cornelia becamediscouraged accordingly. Her reason told her to submit to theinevitable. Her heart cried out against it. And so she continued tofinger the hilt of the little dagger, and look at its keenpoison-smeared edge. 

But one day at the end of this dreary period Agias appeared before hismistress with a smiling face. 

"Don't raise high hopes, my lady, but trust me. I have struck a paththat I'm sure Pratinas will wish I'd never travelled. " And that wasall he would say, but laid his finger on his lips as though it was agreat secret. When he was gone, for Cornelia the sun shone brighter, and the tinkling of the water in the fountain in the peristyliumsounded sweeter than before. After all, there had come a gleam ofhope. 

Cornelia needed the encouragement. That same day when Herennia calledto see her, that excellent young lady--for not the least reason in theworld--had been full of stories of poisoning and murders, how someyears ago a certain Balbutius of Larinum was taken off, it was said, at a wedding feast of a friend for whom the poison had been intended;and then again she had to tell how, at another time, poison had beenput in a bit of bread of which the victim partook. The stories wereold ones and perhaps nothing more than second-hand scandal, but theywere enough to make poor Cornelia miserable; so she was doublyrejoiced when Agias that evening pressed his lips again and smiled andsaid briefly: "All is going well. We shall have the root of the matterin a few days. "

Agias had actually come upon what he was right in considering a greatpiece of good fortune. He had easily found the tenement in the Suburawhere Pratinas lodged, but to learn anything there that would beuseful was a far more difficult affair. He had hung around the place, however, as much as he dared, making his headquarters at a tavernconveniently near, and tried to learn Pratinas's habits, and whetherhe ever took any visitors home with him. All this came to littlepurpose till one morning he observed an old Ethiop, who was tugging aheavy provision basket, stagger up the street, through the nondescriptcrowd. The old slave was being assailed by a mob of street gamins andlow pedlers who saw in the contents of the hamper so much fairplunder. These vagabonds had just thrown the Ethiop down into the mud, and were about to divide their booty, when Agias, acting on a generousimpulse, rushed out from the tavern to the rescue. Nimble, for his agepowerful, and armed with a stout staff which he had caught up in thewine-shop to aid him, the young Greek won an easy victory overcowardly antagonists, put all the plunderers to flight, and lifted theold slave out of the mire. The Ethiop was profuse in his thanks. 

"And whose slave are you?" demanded Agias, well pleased to be out ofthe adventure. 

"I'm Sesostris, servant of Pratinas the Greek. "

Agias pricked up his ears. "And you live--"

"In the top story of this tenement;" and Sesostris tried to pick upthe hamper. 

"Oh!" laughed his rescuer, "you must let me save you that trouble. Iwill carry up the basket. Your master is a brute to pile on suchloads. "

Sesostris again fawned his gratitude, and Agias, with quickened witsand eyes alert, toiled up the dark stairway, and found himself at thetop of the building. He had "entered the enemy's country. " The Ethiopmight not have been open to bribes, but he might be unlocked throughfriendship, and Agias never needed all his senses more than now. Theyhad reached the topmost flight of stairs, and Sesostris had stopped asif embarrassed whether to invite his deliverer in to enjoy somehospitality, or say him farewell. Then of a sudden from behind theclosed door came a clear, sweet, girlish voice, singing, in Greek:--

 "O Aitnë, mother mine: A grotto fair Scooped in the rocks have I, and there I keep All that in dreams man pictures! Treasured there Are multitudes of she-goats and of sheep, Swathed in whose wool from top to toe I sleep. "

It was an idyl of Theocritus, very well known by Agias, and withoutthe least hesitation he took up the strain, and continued:--

 "The fire boils my pot; with oak or beech Is piled, --dry beech logs when the snow lies deep. And storm and sunshine, I disdain them each As toothless sires a nut, when broth is in their reach. "[98]

 [98] Calverly's translation. 

Agias paused. There was a silence, then a giggle behind the door, andit half opened, and out peered the plump and rosy face of the younggirl we have heard Pratinas salute as his niece, Artemisia. The momentshe caught sight of the rather manly form of Agias, the door startedto close with a slam, but the latter thrust out his foot, blocked thedoor, and forced an entrance. 

"_Eleleu!_" cried Agias, pushing into a small but neatly furnishedroom. "What have we here? Do the muses sing in Subura? Has Sapphobrought hither her college of poetesses from Lesbos?"

"_Ai!_" exclaimed Artemisia, drawing back, "who are you? You'redreadfully rude. I never saw you before. "

"Nor I you;" replied Agias, in capital good humour, "but that is noreason why I should take my eyes away from your pretty little face. No, you needn't point your middle finger at me so, to ward off theevil eye. I'm neither Chaldean astrologer, nor Etruscan soothsayer. Come, tell me who you are, and whom you belong to?"

Artemisia did not have the least idea what to say. Agias, partlythrough youthful love of adventure, partly because he felt that he wasplaying now for very high stakes and must risk a good deal, had thrownhimself on the divan, and was holding Artemisia captive under hiskeen, genial eyes. She grew redder in face than before, began tospeak, then broke off with more confused blushes. 

"She means to say, " finally ventured Sesostris, "that she isArtemisia, the niece of Pratinas. "

"The niece of Pratinas!" exclaimed Agias, settling himself upon thecushions in a manner that indicated his intention to make a prolongedstay; "and does Pratinas keep his pretty niece shut up in a gloomytenement, when she has the voice of one of the Graces, and more thantheir share of beauty! Shame on him; I thought he had better sensethan that!"

"Sir, " ventured Artemisia, trying desperately to stand on her dignity, "I do not know you. My uncle will be greatly vexed to find you here. Will you go away at once?"

"That I will not, " replied Agias, firmly; and he drew from the hampera baker's bun, and began to munch it, as though laying in provisionfor a lengthy stay. 

Artemisia and Sesostris exchanged glances of dismay. 

"What _shall_ I do?" said the girl to the Ethiop in a very audiblewhisper. 

"Sing, " interrupted Agias. "Let me hear the rest of the Theocritus. "

"I don't like to sing those songs, " objected Artemisia. "Pratinasmakes me, I don't know why. "

"Well, " said Agias, smiling, "I wouldn't for the-world make you singagainst your will. Suppose you tell me about yourself. Tell me whenyour uncle is away, and when I may come and see you again. "

"He's away nearly all the time, " said Artemisia, very incautiously. "But _who are_ you? Why do you want to come and see me?"

"Why do I want to look at a flower? Why do I want to hear thenightingale sing? Why do I like a cup of good wine?" laughed Agias. "Then, fair mistress, you may look for my answer when _you_ haveanswered all of these questions of mine. "

"I don't see what you mean, " said poor Artemisia, looking dreadfullypuzzled. 

"I mean, " exclaimed the other, "what Sappho meant of the bride, --

 'She like an apple turned red; which reddens far up on the tree-top:-- Upon the topmost of boughs, --the gatherers they have quite missed it. Yes, they saw it indeed; but too high to dare try to pluck it. '

Only I, if you don't greatly mind, will be the bold tree-climber andpluck the apple. "

"But I do mind, " cried Artemisia, all blushes, and springing a littleback. Old Sesostris looked alarmed. 

"You--you mean the girl no ill?" he faltered. 

Agias looked from the innocent little thing over to the Ethiop, snapped his finger, and replied:--

"Ill? I am not a human wolf, making pretty objects like this my prey!"Then, choosing his moment carefully, by a quick turn he confrontedSesostris sternly, and almost thundered: "_You_ speak of my doing illto this maiden? You speak--the slave of Pratinas, who is the leader inevery vice and wild prank in Rome! Has the slave as well as the masterlearned to play the hypocrite? Do you want to be tortured intoconfessing your part in all your master's crimes when the hour ofreckoning comes and he is brought to justice. _A! A!_" he went on, seeing that Sesostris was rolling the whites of his eyes, and wastrembling in every limb, "you know for a certainty how and whenPratinas is to have Quintus Drusus killed! Don't deny it. You willsoon be in the meshes. Don't hope to escape. If murder comes to Drusushe may perish, but he has friends who will fearfully avenge hisdeath. "

"Mercy! Mercy!" howled the Ethiop, falling on his knees and clutchingat the young Greek's robe, "I know very little of the plot. I onlyknow--"

"Don't equivocate, " thundered Agias. "If I had known the kind of manyou were, I would hardly have saved you from those street ruffians. You don't deserve to live. Well, the crows will soon have you! YouEgyptians believe in a judgment of the dead; what defence can you makebefore the court of Osiris[99] for being privy to a foul murder?You'll come back to earth as a fly, or a toad, or a dung-beetle, topay the penalty for your sins. "

 [99] The Egyptian judge of the dead. 

"Mercy, " whined Sesostris, who was in a paroxysm of fright. "Indeed Iam innocent! I am only a poor slave! I can't help knowing whatPratinas is doing; but how can I prevent him? Don't look at me so! Iam innocent--innocent!"

"I can scarce believe you, " said Agias, affecting great reluctance toshow any leniency. "Doubtless you are steeped in blood. Still, you maysave yourself this once. Remember, you are known, and the plans ofPratinas against Drusus are partly known. We know about Dumnorix, andLucius Ahenobarbus, and--"

"Oh!" cried Sesostris, as though a hot iron had touched him, "I willfind out everything, and tell you. Indeed I will. Only do not send meto the rack or crucify me if my master's plans go astray!"

"Well, " said Agias, still simulating hesitancy, "I will report to mysuperiors. Perhaps you are not a willing accomplice of your master. Inthat case, if he is apprehended, your life will doubtless be spared. But we must thwart his plot before it can be carried out. This youmust aid us to do. When will Dumnorix start for Præneste?"

Again Sesostris quailed. "I don't know, " he faltered, "there has beena postponement. There was a plan that if Drusus came to the city hewas to be lured outside the Esquiline gate, as if going to some villa, and murdered in the sand-pits, as have been many people. "

"But this plan has been given up? Speak the truth!" sharply demandedAgias. 

"Yes; for Drusus will not stir from Præneste. So there the scheme mustbe executed, as originally arranged. "

"And Dumnorix will go soon?"

"I think in a few days. I will find out. "

"As you love your own life do so! I will call on each day at thishour. If Pratinas is at home, leave some bright garment outside nearthe door, that I may not stumble on him. Deceive or betray me, and mymasters will take a terrible revenge on you; for you haven't the leastidea what is the power of the men Pratinas has for enemies. "

Agias turned to depart. Then to Artemisia:--

"And you, my pretty, --when I come again, I will try to stay longer, and make you feel as glad to see Agias, as Agias will be to seeArtemisia. "

Agias was descending the stairs, when Sesostris called him back with awhisper. 

"You are a dreadful youth; but since I am so utterly in your power, hear something that may prove that I am not a knave at heart. You havea fancy to the girl?"

"Certainly I have eyes for her face, and ears for her sweet littlevoice, " said Agias, smiling. 

"Then listen, " went on the Ethiop; "I care for the dear more thananything else in the world. She said she was Pratinas's niece. Itisn't true. She is a slave-girl he picked up when very little atDelos, [100] as he told me, though I doubt it. He took a fancy to her, and really thought of adopting her. Then his soul became so set onmoney, that he saw she would fetch a great price when grown; and sellher he will. He still pretends to call her his niece; but that won'tbe for long. He is teaching her to sing, to add to her value. _A!_ Butmy old heart is almost breaking for her sake. _Mu, mu!_" and Sesostrispuffed his groans through his nostrils. "Think of it! He has an ideato sell her to that rich Roman, Lucius Calatinus--and then I don'tdare hint what will be her fate. "

 [100] At this period the great slave emporium of the world. 

"Calatinus!" hissed Agias, concentrating volumes of scorn into a word. 

"You know him! You hate him!" cried Sesostris. "Then by Ammon-Ra, byIsis, by every god in whom you believe, save my darling from worsethan death! Do that, and I will die for you!"

Sesostris's emotion was too genuine to be a mere trap for ensnaringhis visitor; and Agias in turn was stirred. 

"Old man, " he exclaimed, seizing the other's hand, "you and I havesuffered much from evil masters. Thank the gods, I am now serving oneI love--albeit unfortunate enough! But we have a common right topunish the wrongdoers, and earn a little bit of happiness forourselves. Come, now! If Artemisia is a slave, she is in no wise aboveme. Let me save Drusus from Pratinas, and I pledge my word that I willsave Artemisia from him and his nefarious schemes, --yes, and you, too. If Artemisia likes me, why then there will be perhaps more to add tothe story. Come--I am your friend, and you, mine. "

Sesostris wrung the other's hand. The honest servant was moved toomuch to speak. His heart and soul had been bound up in Artemisia. 

"May your _Ka_[101] stand before Osiris justified!" he choked. "I havebeen privy to many a dark action, until I used to try to forget theday when I must answer to the Judge of the Dead for every deed doneand word spoken. But I could not stifle my fear for the only dearthing in the world. "

 [101] The spiritual double which belonged to every man according to the Egyptian ideas. 

Agias went away in a happy frame of mind. He had every confidence thatSesostris would worm out of Pratinas the exact details of the plot, and put the conspirators at the mercy of Drusus and Mamercus. 

 * * * * *

And Agias had felt there was good reason to rejoice in his discoveryin more ways than one. Especially was he conscious that there were nolips as red and as merry, no cheeks as rosy, no eyes as dancing, nochatter as sweet, as those of Artemisia. And what is more, he rejoicedto believe that that young lady was not half so shy of him as atfirst, and was as anxious to see him as he to see her. Thanks to duewarnings and precautions, Agias never stumbled on Pratinas, when thelatter was at his lodgings. The time he dared to stay was all tooshort for Artemisia. She was always telling how lonesome she was withonly old Sesostris for company, before she knew Agias. Once when thelatter was late in his daily visit, he was delighted to find scribbledon the wall, "Artemisia to her Agias: you are real mean. " Agias hatedto make her erase it lest it fall under Pratinas's eagle eye. 

But still Sesostris had nothing to tell about the plot against Drusus. Some days passed. Agias began to grow uneasy. Sesostris hadrepresented that he was conversant with everything his master had onfoot; but Pratinas might have been more discreet than to unfold allhis affairs, even before his servant; and then, too, there was alwaysthe possibility that Sesostris was playing fast and loose, and aboutto betray Agias to his master. So the latter grew disquieted, andfound it a little hard to preserve the character of cheerful mysterywhich he simulated to Cornelia. The long-sought information came at atime when he was really off his guard. Agias had been visitingArtemisia. Sesostris as well as Pratinas had been out; the two youngpeople were amusing themselves trying to teach a pet magpie to speak, when the Ethiop rushed into the room, all in a tremble with anxiousexcitement. 

"_A! A!_" he was ejaculating. "Up, speed, don't delay! There's murderafoot!"

Agias let the bird slip from his hands, and never noticed that itfluttered on its clipped wings around the room, to Artemisia'sinfinite dismay. 

"What? Is the plot hatched?"

"Yes, yes, " puffed Sesostris, great beads of perspiration on hishonest face. "I was attending Pratinas when he met Lucius Ahenobarbusin the Forum. They veiled their talk, but I readily caught its drift. Dumnorix went yesterday with the pick of his band to Anagnia for somegames. To-morrow he will return through Præneste, and the deed will bedone. Phaon, Ahenobarbus's freedman, has started already for Prænesteto spy out the ground and be ready to direct Dumnorix where, when, andhow to find Drusus. Phaon has been spying at Præneste, and is thedangerous man!"

"He has gone?" demanded Agias. 

"Gone, early this morning!"

"Then, --the gods reward you for your news, --I am gone too!"

And without another word to Artemisia or the old slave, Agias hadrushed out into the street. He had a double game to play--to preventPhaon from ever reaching Præneste, and then get such help to Drusus aswould enable him to beat off Dumnorix and his gang. For Agias feltcertain that the hard-hitting Gaul would execute his part of thebargain, whether he met Phaon or not, and afterward look into theconsequences of what--unmitigated by the freedman's _finesse_--wouldtake the form of an open clumsy murder. But Phaon had started thatmorning; and it was now well into the afternoon. Time was dangerouslyscanty. Cornelia he felt he should inform; but she could do nothingreally to help him. He turned his steps toward the Forum and theAtrium Vestæ. He had some difficulty in inducing the porter to summonFabia, to meet in personal interview a mere slave, but a gratuity wonthe point; and a minute later he was relating the whole story and thepresent situation of Drusus to Fabia, with a sincere directness thatcarried conviction with it. She had known that Drusus had enemies; butnow her whole strong nature was stirred at the sense of her nephew'simminent peril. 

"If you were a freeman, Agias, " were her words, "and could givewitness as such, Pratinas and Ahenobarbus--high as the latteris--should know that my influence at the law outweighs theirs. Butthey shall be thwarted. I will go to Marcellus the consul, and demandthat troops be started to Præneste to-night. But you must go afterPhaon. "

"You will send word to Cornelia?" requested Agias. 

"Yes, " said Fabia, "but not now; it is useless. Here is an order onGallus, who keeps a livery-stable[102] by the Porta Esquilina. He willgive you my new white Numidian, that I keep with him. Ride as you havenever ridden before. And here is money. Twenty gold philippi in thisbag. Bribe, do anything. Only save Drusus! Now go!"

 [102] Such establishments were common near the gates, and the Vestals often had their horses at such places. 

"Farewell, lady, " cried Agias, "may I redeem the debt of gratitude Iowe you!"

Fabia stood looking after him, as he hastened out from the quietatrium into the busy street. Little Livia had cuddled up beside heraunt. 

"Oh, Livia, " said Fabia, "I feel as though it were of no use to livegood and pure in this world! Who knows what trouble may come to mefrom this day's doings? And why should they plot against yourbrother's dear life? But I mustn't talk so. " And she called for herattendants to escort her abroad. 

Chapter VIII

"When Greek Meets Greek"

I

Cornelia had surmised correctly that Pratinas, not Lucius Ahenobarbus, would be the one to bring the plot against Drusus to an issue. Luciushad tried in vain to escape from the snares the wily intriguer hadcast about him. His father had told him that if he would settle downand lead a moderately respectable life, Phormio should be paid off. And with this burden off his mind, for reformation was very easilypromised, Lucius had time to consider whether it was worth his whileto mix in a deed that none of Pratinas's casuistry could quiteconvince him was not a foul, unprovoked murder, of an innocent man. The truth was, Ahenobarbus was desperately in love with Cornelia, andhad neither time nor desire to mingle in any business not connectedwith the pursuit of his "tender passion. " None of his formersweethearts--and he had had almost as many as he was years old--werecomparable in his eyes to her. She belonged to a different world fromthat of the Spanish dancers, the saucy maidens of Greece, or even themany noble-born Roman women that seemed caught in the eddy of Clodia'sfashionable whirlpool. Lucius frankly told himself that he would wantto be divorced from Cornelia in five years--it would be tedious tokeep company longer with a goddess. But for the present her vivacity, her wit, her bright intelligence, no less than her beauty, charmedhim. And he was rejoiced to believe that she was quite as muchensnared by his own attractions. He did not want any unhappy accidentto mar the smooth course which was to lead up to the marriage in nodistant future. He did not need Drusus's money any longer to save himfrom bankruptcy. The legacy would be highly desirable, but life wouldbe very pleasant without it. Lucius was almost induced by his inwardqualms to tell Pratinas to throw over the whole matter, and informDumnorix that his services were not needed. 

It was at this juncture that Cornelia committed an error, the fullconsequences of which were, to her, happily veiled. In her anxiety todiscover the plot, she had made Lucius believe that she was reallypining for the news of the murder of Drusus. Cornelia had actuallylearned nothing by a sacrifice that tore her very heart out; but herwords and actions did almost irreparable harm to the cause she wastrying to aid. 

"And you have never given me a kiss, " Lucius had said one morning, when he was taking leave of Cornelia in the atrium of the Lentuli. "Will you ever play the siren, and lure me to you? and then devour, asit were, your victim, not with your lips, but with your eyes?"

"_Eho!_ Not so bold!" replied Cornelia, drawing back. "How can I giveyou what you wish, unless I am safe from that awful Polyphemus up inPræneste?"

When Ahenobarbus went away, his thoughts were to the following effect:"I had always thought Cornelia different from most women; but now Ican see that, like them all, she hates and hates. To say to her, 'Drusus is dead, ' will be a more grateful present than the largestdiamond Lucullus brought from the East, from the treasure of KingTigranes. "

And it was in such a frame of mind that he met Pratinas by appointmentat a low tavern on the Vicus Tuscus. The Greek was, as ever, smilingand plausible. 

"Congratulations!" was his greeting. "Dumnorix has already started. Hehas my orders; and now I must borrow your excellent freedman, Phaon, to go to Præneste and spy out, for the last time, the land, andgeneral our army. Let him start early to-morrow morning. The time isample, and unless some malevolent demon hinder us, there will be nofailure. I have had a watch kept over the Drusus estate. An old sentryof a steward, Mamercus, --so I learn, --has been afraid, evidently, ofsome foul play on the part of the consul-designate, and has stationeda few armed freedmen on guard. Drusus himself keeps very carefully onhis own premises. This is all the better for us. Dumnorix will disposeof the freedmen in a hurry, and our man will be in waiting there justfor the gladiators. Phaon will visit him--cook up some errand, andinveigle him, if possible, well out in the colonnade in front of thehouse, before Dumnorix and his band pass by. Then there will be thatvery deplorable scuffle, and its sad, sad results. Alas, poor Drusus!Another noble Livian gathered to his fathers!"

"I don't feel very merry about it, " ventured Lucius. "I don't needDrusus's money as much as I did. If it wasn't for Cornelia, I woulddrop it all, even now. Sometimes I feel there are avengingFuries--_Diræ_, we Latins call them--haunting me. "

Pratinas laughed incredulously. "Surely, my dear fellow, " he began, "you don't need to have the old superstitions explained away again, doyou?"

"No, no, " was his answer; Lucius capitulating another time. 

So it came to pass that Pratinas had an interview with Phaon, Lucius'sfreedman, a sleek, well-oiled Sicilian Greek, who wore his hair verylong to cover the holes bored in his ears--the mark of old-timeservitude. He was the darling of waiting-maids; the collector of allcurrent scandal; the master spirit in arranging dinners, able to tella Tuscan from a Lucanian boar by mere taste. He used also to help hispatron compose _billets-doux, _ and had, by his twistings andscrapings, repeatedly staved off Phormio, Lucius's importunatecreditor. As for Phaon's heart, it was so soft and tender that thepricks of conscience, if he ever had any, went straight through, without leaving a trace behind. And when Pratinas now informed him asto his final duties at Præneste, Phaon rubbed his beringed hands andsmoothed his carefully scraped chin with ill-concealed satisfaction. 

"And a word more in closing, " said Pratinas, as he parted with Phaonin the tavern--while Lucius, who had been drinking very heavily, nodded stupidly over his goblet of amber Falernian, in a vain attemptto gulp down eight _cyathi_ at once, one measure to each letter in thename of Cornelia--"a word more. Dumnorix is a thick-skulled knave, whois, after all, good for little but blows. I have made an arrangementwhich will ensure having a careful man at his elbow in time of need. You, of course, will have to do your best to save the unfortunateQuintus from inevitable fate. But I have asked Publius Gabinius toleave for Præneste very early on the morning when Dumnorix passesthrough that place. Gabinius has a small villa a little beyond thetown, and there will be nothing suspicious in a journey to visit one'scountry house. He will meet Dumnorix, and be at his side when thepinch comes. You see? He is an adventurous fellow, and will help usjust for the sake of the mischief. Besides, I believe he has a grudgeagainst the Drusian family as a whole, for he lately tried to passsome familiarities with Fabia the Vestal, Drusus's aunt, and sheproved disgustingly prudish. "

"And how much will you and I, " said Phaon, with a sly smirk, "gainout of this little business, if all goes well? Of course one shouldhelp one's patron, but--"

"It is folly to divide the spoils of Troy before Troy is taken, "laughed Pratinas. "Don't be alarmed, my good fellow. Your excellentpatron will reward us, no doubt, amply. " And he muttered to himself:"If I don't bleed that Lucius Ahenobarbus, that Roman donkey, out oftwo-thirds of his new fortune; if I don't levy blackmail on himwithout mercy when he's committed himself, and becomes a partner incrime, I'm no fox of a Hellene. I wonder that he is the son of a manlike Domitius, who was so shrewd in that old affair with me atAntioch. "

 * * * * *

So it came to pass that the next morning, long before Pratinas andAhenobarbus met in the Forum and reviewed the steps taken in the wordsthat gave Sesostris the key to the situation, Phaon was driving towardPræneste. Of course a mere freedman, on a journey preferably keptquiet, travelled in not the least state. He rode alone, but hadborrowed from his patron two of those small but speedy Gallic horsescalled mammi, that whirled his gig over the Campagna at a rapid trot. Still there was no great call for haste. He wished to get to Prænesteabout dark, and there make a few inquiries as to the whereabouts andrecent doings of Drusus. Pratinas had had considerable espionage keptup over his intended victim, and the last results of this detectivework were to be reported to Phaon by the slaves of Ahenobarbusperforming it. Perhaps there would be no real harm in driving straightthrough to Præneste in the open daylight, but it was better not toshow himself until the right time. So it was that, halfway on theroad, Phaon turned in to the tavern of the decaying little town ofGabii, gave his team to the hostler, and rested himself by fuming overthe squalor and poor cooking of the inn. 

II

Agias secured the fast Numidian from the stables of Gallus, and wassoon away. His frequent journeys between Rome and Præneste, in serviceof Cornelia and Drusus, made him a fairly expert rider, and his noblemount went pounding past the mile-stones at a steady, untiring gallop. The young Hellene was all tingling with excitement and expectation; hewould save Drusus; he would send the roses back into his belovedmistress's cheeks; and they would reward him, give him freedom; andthen the future would be bright indeed. 

But it grew late, fast as the horse bore him. He felt it his duty topress on with all speed to Præneste. He had still a very vague notionof the final form of the conspiracy, especially of the rôle assignedto Phaon. Of one thing he was certain: to intercept Phaon was todeprive Dumnorix of an essential ally; but how to intercept the wilyfreedman was nothing easy. 

As the Numidian swept into Gabii, Agias drew rein, telling himselfthat the horse would make better speed for a little rest and baiting. The tavern court into which he rode was exceedingly filthy; the wholebuilding was in a state of decay; the odours were indescribable. Inthe great public-room a carter was trolling a coarse ditty, whilethrough the doorway ran a screaming serving-maid to escape some lowfamiliarity. 

A shock-headed boy with a lantern took Agias's bridle, and the Greekalighted; almost under his eyes the dim light fell on a handsome, two-horse gig, standing beside the entrance to the court. Agias gavethe vehicle close attention. 

"It belongs to a gentleman from Rome, now inside, " explained the boy, "one horse went lame, and the veterinary[103] is coming. " Agias's eyecaught a very peculiar bend in the hollow in the neck-yoke. He hadseen that carriage before, on the fashionable boulevards--along theTiber, in the Campus Martius--the carriage of Lucius Ahenobarbus. Phaon was waiting in the tavern!

 [103] _Equarius_. 

"Care for my horse at once, " remarked Agias, a little abruptly. "Timepresses. " And he turned on his heel, and leaving the boy gaping afterhim, went into the squalid public-room of the tavern. 

The landlord of the establishment, a small, red-faced, bustling man, was fussing over some lean thrushes roasting on a spit before the openfire that was roaring on the hearth. The landlady, lazy, muscular, corpulent, and high-voiced, was expostulating with a pedler who wastrying to slip out without settling. Four other persons, slaves andpeasants, were sitting on two low benches beside a small, circulartable, and were busy pouring down the liquor which a young serving-boybrought them in tumbler-shaped cups, or eating greedily at loaves ofcoarse bread which they snatched from the table. It was so late thatlittle light came into the room from the door and windows. The greatfire tossed its red, flickering glow out into the apartment and cast arosy halo over the hard brown marble pavement of the floor. Upon thedingy walls and rafters hung from pegs flitches of bacon, sausages, and nets of vegetables. Agias stopped in the doorway and waited tillhis eyes were fairly accustomed to the fire-light. Over in a remotecorner he saw a lamp gleaming, and there, sprawling on a bench, besidea table of his own, well piled with food and drink, he distinguishedin solitary majesty Phaon--too exquisite to mingle with the otherguests of the tavern. 

The landlord quickly noticed his new customer, and sprang up from thefire. Agias had on a coarse grey woollen cloak over his light tunic, and he drew his hood up so as partly to cover his face as he steppedinto the room. 

"_Salve!_" was the landlord's salutation. "What hospitality can theElephant[104] afford you?"

 [104] Inns were known by such signs. 

The good host did not think Agias anything more by his dress than acommon slave, and saw no need of excessive politeness. 

Agias noticed that he was expected to join the other drinkers aroundthe centre table. 

"_Eho_, mine host!" cried he, letting the fire give one glint on agold piece. "Can't you give me a seat at the other end of the room? Idon't know these good people, and they won't thank me for thrustingmyself on them. "

"Certainly, certainly, " exclaimed the landlord, all condescension. "There is a gentleman from Rome drinking by himself at that table overthere. Perhaps he will not object. "

Now was the crisis. Agias had seen Phaon many times with LuciusAhenobarbus; but he was reasonably certain that the freedman had neverdegraded himself by taking any notice of the numerous slaves ofLentulus's household. Without waiting for the host to continue, hehastened over to the farther table, and exclaimed with all theeffrontery at his command:--

"_Hem!_ Phaon; don't you remember an old friend?"

The freedman for once was completely off his guard. He started up, stared at Agias, and began to mutter excuses for a very short memory. 

"Well, well, " cried Agias. "You _have_ a poor recollection of faces!Don't you remember how Pratinas took you to the Big Eagle restaurant, down on the Vicus Jugarius, on the last Calends, and how you met methere, and what good Lesbian and Chian wine there was? None of yourweak, sickening Italian stuff! Surely you remember Cleombrotus, fromwhom you won four hundred sesterces. "

Phaon, who remembered the tavern, a visit, and winning four hundredsesterces at one time or another, tried to make himself believe thathe won them from a young man, like the one before him, and that hisname was Cleombrotus. 

"Um! Yes, of course, " he faltered. "I'm very glad to see you. Whatbrings you here?"

"Business, business, " complained Agias; "my master's a grain merchantwith dealings at Puteoli, and he has sent me thither, to make somepayments. " Phaon pricked up his ears. "The Via Appia is more direct, but there is less chance of robbers by the Via Prænestina. "

"I hope your master can trust you not to lighten his pouch on theway, " remarked Phaon. 

"Well, " chuckled Agias, "he'll have to take his risk. If it's lost onthe road, why, highwaymen stripped me. It is one of the fortunes oftrade. " Phaon was fully convinced that here was a fine chance to dosome picking on his own account. 

"Doubtless, " he began, "you are not in such haste that you cannotenjoy one of those thrushes that sheep of a landlord is roasting forme. _Phui!_ What a nasty place to have one's horse give out in. Youwill give me at least a little company to pass the time?"

Agias affected reluctance; then as the host brought up the birds, savory and hot, on an earthen platter, he gracefully accepted theinvitation. The thrushes and the rest of the bill of fare, bacon, sweet nut-flavoured oil, bread, and the cheap wine of the Campagnawere not unwelcome, though Phaon cursed the coarse food roundly. Then, when hunger had begun to yield, Phaon suggested that Cleombrotus "tryto secure revenge for his losses on the Calends"; and Agias, nothingloth, replied that he did not wish to risk a great sum; but if adenarius were worth playing for, there was no objection to venturing afew casts, and "he would ask the host to bring them the gamingimplements. "

So the landlord brought dice and dice boxes, and Phaon--who had cometo the conclusion that he had to deal with a light-headed bumpkin, whorepresented merely so much fair plunder--began to play with a carelessheart. The landlord brought more and more flagons of wine, wine thatwas mixed with little water and was consequently very heady. But thegame--with some veering of fortune--went the freedman's way. He won adenarius; then another; then a third; lost a fourth time; won backeverything and five denarii more; and finally his opponent, heatedwith play, consented to stake two gold pieces. 

"What did you say a minute ago to the landlord?" muttered Phaon, feeling that the undiluted liquor was getting the best of him. "Thiswine is very strong. It makes my head ache. "

"_Phy!_" retorted Agias. "Who complains of good liquor? I only toldthe host to set another lamp near us. Shall we play again?"

"By Zeus!" exclaimed the delighted freedman. "Here I have cast four'sixes' once more. " And again he drained the beaker. 

"_Vah!_" sniffed Agias. "Luck will turn at last. Let us play for realstakes. More wine, mine host! I will put down ten philippi. This willbe worth winning or losing. "

"As you say, " gleefully chuckled Phaon, tossing the gold on the table. "Yes, more wine, I say too. One always enjoys play when his templesare all athrob. "

Agias quietly reached over, took up his opponent's dice box, andrattled it, and appeared inspecting and fingering the _tali_. [105]"You have won your throws fairly, " he said, handing it back. "Now letus invoke the decision of Fortune once more. A libation to the Geniusof Good Luck!" And instead of spilling out a few drops only, he cantedthe flagon too far and spattered the wine on to the floor. 

 [105] Four-sided dice. 

"Heracles!" growled Phaon, "what a poor hazard! I have thrown four'ones'!"

"And I have all 'fours' and 'sixes, '" cried Agias, in delight, sweeping the money toward him. 

"The gods blast my luck, " muttered the freedman, "I shall be ruined atthis rate. " And he poured down more liquor. "I have hardly fivephilippi left. "

"Come, " shouted Agias, jumping up; "I make a fair offer. Your fivephilippi against all my winnings. "

Phaon had a dim consciousness that he was getting very drunk, that heought to start at once for Præneste, and that it was absolutelyneedful for him to have some money for bribes and gratuities if he wasnot to jeopardize seriously the success of his undertaking. But Agiasstood before him exultant and provoking. The freedman could not beinduced to confess to himself that he had been badly fleeced by afellow he expected to plunder. In drunken desperation he pulled outhis last gold and threw it on the table. 

"Play for that, and all the Furies curse me if I lose, " he stormed. 

Agias cast two "threes, " two "fours. "

"I must better that, " thundered the freedman, slapping the tali out onto the table. 

"'Ones' again, " roared Agias; "all four! you have lost!"

Phaon sprang up in a storm of anger, and struck over the dice. "Threeof them are 'sixes, '" he raged. "I have won! You got loaded dice fromthe landlord, just now, when he brought the wine!"

"Not at all, you cheating scoundrel, " retorted Agias, who had alreadyscooped in the money, "I have you fairly enough. "

"Fair?" shouted Phaon, dashing down the dice again, "they are loaded!Lack-shame! Villain! Whipping-post! Tomb-robber! Gallows-bird! Youchanged them when you pretended to inspect them! Give me my money, thief, or--" and he took a menacing but unsteady step toward Agias. 

The young Greek was ready for the emergency. He knew that Phaon wasalmost overcome with his wine, and had no dread of the issue. A strokeof his fist sent the freedman reeling back against the wall, all thewind pounded from his chest. "You born blackguard, " coughed Phaon, "Iwon it. " Agias was renewing the attack, when the landlord interfered. Seizing both of the gamesters by their cloaks, he pushed them out aside door into the court-yard. "Out with you!" cried the host. "Quarrel without, if you must! This is no place for brawls. "

Phaon staggered a step or two out into the dark, then reeled and fellheavily upon the dirty pavement. Agias prodded him with his foot, buthe was quite insensible. For the present he was harmless enough. 

"My good host, " said Agias, to the disquieted landlord, "I did not askyou to give us an unmixed wine and those dice for no purpose. Thisexcellent gentleman here seems sadly in need of a bed, where he muststay for some time. But since I have won every sesterce he owns I mustneeds pay for his board. Take good care of him, and here are sixphilippi which are yours on condition that you keep him quiet untilto-morrow at this time, and suffer no one coming from Rome to see him, or send him a message. To-morrow evening a messenger from Prænestewill come here, and if your guest is still safe in your custody, youshall have six more gold pieces. At that time, doubtless, you can lethim go; but don't violate my orders, or--"

"Your excellency pays like a senator, " said the landlord, bowing, ashe fingered the gold. "Trust me that your wishes shall be obeyed. "

"They had better be, " hinted Agias. "I am not what I seem by my dress. If you disobey, fear the wrath of a man before whom the worldtrembles!"

"He must be an agent of Cæsar, or Pompeius, " muttered the landlord tohimself. And Agias, having seen two serving-boys tugging Phaon's proneweight away to a secluded hay-mow, called for his refreshed Numidian, clattered out of the filthy court, and rode away into the night, withthe stars burning above him. 

Chapter IX

How Gabinius Met with a Rebuff

I

Publius Gabinius, the boon comrade of Lucius Ahenobarbus, differedlittle from many another man of his age in mode of life, or variety ofaspirations. He had run through all the fashionable excitements of theday; was tired of horse-racing, peacock dinners, Oriental sweethearts;tired even of dice. And of late he had begun to grow morose, and hisfriends commenced to think him rather dull company. 

But for some days he had found a new object of interest. With LuciusAhenobarbus he had been at the Circus Flaminius, waiting for the racesto begin, when he startled his friend by a clutch on the arm. 

"Look!" was Gabinius's exclamation. "Is she not beautiful?"

He pointed to where Fabia, the Vestal, was taking her seat upon acushion placed for her by a maid, and all the people around werestanding, very respectfully, until she was seated The priestess wasclothed in perfect white, --dress, ribbons, fillet--a notable contrastto the brave show of purple, and scarlet, and blue mantles all abouther. 

"Beautiful? Yes, " repeated Lucius, rather carelessly. "But such birdsare not for our net. "

"Are not?" repeated Gabinius, a little sharply. "What makes you sosure of that?"

"I hardly think that you will find my dear friend Quintus Drusus'saunt, for so I understand she is, " said Ahenobarbus, "very likely toreciprocate your devotion. "

"And why not?" reiterated Gabinius, in a vexed tone. 

"My dear fellow, " answered Lucius, "I won't argue with you. There areplenty of women in Rome quite as handsome as Fabia, and much younger, who will smile on you. Don't meddle in a business that is toodangerous to be profitable. "

But Gabinius had been wrought up to a pitch of amorous excitement, from which Ahenobarbus was the last one to move him. For days he hadhaunted the footsteps of the Vestal; had contrived to thrust himselfas near to her in the theatre and circus as possible; had bribed oneof the Temple servants to steal for him a small panel painting ofFabia; had, in fact, poured over his last romance all the ardour andpassion of an intense, violent, uncontrolled nature. Gabinius was notthe kind of a man either to analyze his motives, or express himself inthe sobbing lyrics of a Catullus. He was thrilled with a fiercepassion, and knew it, and it only. Therefore he merely replied toLucius Ahenobarbus:--

"I can't help myself. What does Terence say about a like case? 'Thisindeed can, to some degree, be endured; night, passion, liquor, youngblood, urged him on; it's only human nature. '"[106]

 [106] Terence, "Adelphoe, " 467 and 471. 

And all the afternoon, while the chariots ran, and wager on wagermarked the excitement of the cloud of spectators, Gabinius had onlyeyes for one object, Fabia, who, perfectly unconscious of his state offascination, sat with flushed cheeks and bright, eager eyes, watchingthe fortunes of the races, or turned now and then to speak a few wordsto little Livia, who was at her side. When the games were over, Gabinius struggled through the crowd after the Vestal, and kept nearto her until she had reached her litter and the eight red-liveriedCappadocian porters bore her away. Gabinius continued to gaze afterher until Fabia drew the leather curtains of her conveyance and washid from sight. 

"_Perpol!"_ reflected Gabinius. "How utterly enslaved I am!"

 * * * * *

The following morning Fabia received a letter in a strange hand, asking her to come to a villa outside the Porta Capena, and receive awill from one Titus Denter, who lay dying. The receiving andsafe-keeping of wills was a regular duty of Vestals, and Fabia at oncesummoned her litter, and started out of the city, along the Via Appia, until, far out in the suburbs where the houses were wide apart, shewas set down before the country-house indicated. A stupid-appearingslave-boy received her at the gateway. The villa was old, small, andin very indifferent repair. The slave could not seem to explainwhether it had been occupied of late, but hastened to declare that hismaster lay nigh to death. There was no porter in the outervestibule. [107] The heavy inner door turned slowly on its pivot, bysome inside force, and disclosed a small, darkened atrium, onlylighted by a clear sunbeam from the opening above, that passed throughand illumined a playing fountain. A single attendant stood in thedoorway. He was a tall, gaunt man in servile dress, with a rathersickly smile on his sharp yellow face. Fabia alighted from her litter. There was a certain secluded uncanniness about the house, which madeher dislike for an instant to enter. The slave in the door silentlybeckoned for her to come in. The Vestal informed her bearers that shewas likely to be absent some little time, and they must wait quietlywithout, and not annoy a dying man with unseemly laughter or loudconversation. Then, without hesitancy, Fabia gathered her priestess'scloak about her, and boldly entered the strange atrium. As she did so, the attendant noiselessly closed the door, and what was further, shothome a bolt. 

 [107] _Ostium_. 

"There is no need for that, " remarked the Vestal, who never before inher life had experienced such an unaccountable sense of disquietude. 

"It is my habit always to push the bolt, " said the slave, bowing, andleading the way toward the peristylium. 

"You are Titus Denter's slave?" asked Fabia. The other nodded. "Andyour master is a very sick man?"

"Your most noble ladyship shall judge for herself. "

"Take me to him at once, if he can see me. "

"He is waiting. "

The two went through the narrow passageway which led from the outercourt of the atrium into the inner court of the peristylium. Fabia wassurprised to see that here all the marble work had been carefullywashed clean, the little enclosed garden was in beautiful order, andin various corners and behind some of the pillars were bronze andsculptured statues of really choice art. The slave stopped and pointedto a couch upholstered in crimson, beside the fish tank, where tamelampreys were rising for a bit of food. 

"Take me to your master!" repeated Fabia, puzzled by the gesture. "Iam not weary. You say he waits me?"

"He will be here, " replied the servant, with another bow. 

"Here?" exclaimed the Vestal, now really alarmed. "Here? He, a mansick unto death?"

"Certainly; here!" broke in a strange voice; and forth from behind apillar stepped Publius Gabinius, all pomaded and rouged, dressed onlyin a gauzy, many-folded scarlet _synthesis_. [108]

 [108] The "dinner coat" of the Romans. 

Fabia gave a scream and sprang back in instinctive alarm. In thetwinkling of an eye it flashed over her that for some purpose or othershe had been trapped. Gabinius she knew barely by sight; but hisreputation had come to her ears, and fame spoke nothing good of him. Yet even at the moment when she felt herself in the most imminentpersonal peril, the inbred dignity and composed hauteur of the Vestaldid not desert her. At the selfsame instant that she said to herself, "Can I escape through the atrium before they can stop me?" recoveringfrom her first surprise, and with never a quiver of eyelash or apaling of cheek, she was saying aloud, in a tone cold as ice, "Andindeed, most excellent Gabinius, you must pardon me for beingstartled; for all that I know of you tells me that you are likely tofind a sombre Vestal sorry enough company. "

Gabinius had been counting coolly on a very noisy scene, one of a kindhe was fairly familiar with--an abundance of screaming, expostulation, tearing of hair, and other manifestations of feminine agony--to befollowed, of course, by ultimate submission to the will ofall-dominant man. He was not accustomed to have a woman look himfairly in the eye and speak in tones, not of bootless fury, but ofsuperior scorn. And his answer was painfully lacking in the ascendantvolubility which would have befitted the occasion. 

"Forgive me; pardon; it was of course necessary to resort to somesubterfuge in order--in order to prevent your attendants from becomingsuspicious. "

Fabia cast a glance behind her, and saw that before the two doorsleading to the atrium her conductor and another tall slave had placedthemselves; but she replied in a tone a little more lofty, ifpossible, than before:--

"I cannot well, sir, understand you. Are you a friend of Titus Denter, who is sick? I do not see that any subterfuge is necessary when I amto receive the deposit of a will from a dying man. It is a recognizedduty of my office. "

Gabinius was still more at a loss. 

"You should certainly understand, lady, " he began, cursing himself forhaving to resort to circumlocutions, "that this is my own villa, and Ihave not the pleasure of knowing Titus Denter. I sent the letterbecause--"

"Because, my worthy sir, " interrupted Fabia, not however raising hervoice in the least, "you are weary of Greek flute-players forsweethearts or such Roman young ladies as admire either the ointmentsor the pimples of your face, and consequently seek a little diversionby laying snares for a sacred Vestal. "

Gabinius at last found free use for his tongue. 

"Oh, lady; Lady Fabia, " he cried, stretching out his arms and taking astep nearer, "don't misjudge me so cruelly! I will forsake anything, everything, for you! I have nothing to dream of day or night but yourface. You have served your thirty years in the Temple, and can quitits service. Why entertain any superstitious scruple against doingwhat the law allows? Come with me to Egypt; to Spain; to Parthia;anywhere! Only do not reject me and my entreaties! I will do anythingfor your sake!"

Critical as was her situation, Fabia could not refrain from a sense ofhumour, when she saw and heard this creature--the last intimate shewould select in the world--pressing his suit with such genuinepassion. When she answered, an exasperating smile was on her lips. 

"By Castor!" she replied, "the noble Gabinius is not a bad tragedian. If he has nothing further to inform me than that I am favoured by hisgood graces, I can only decline his proposals with humble firmness, and depart. "

"By the immortal gods!" cried Gabinius, feeling that he and not hiswould-be victim were like to go into a frenzy, "you shan't go! I haveyou here. And here you shall remain until I have your word that youwill quit the Temple service and fly with me to Egypt. If you won'thave me as your slave, I'll have you as your master!" And again headvanced. 

"What restrains me here?" queried Fabia, sternly, the blood sinkingfrom her cheeks, but by step or by glance quailing not in the least. "Who dare restrain or offer harm to a Vestal of the Roman Republic?"

"I!" shouted Gabinius in mad defiance, with a menacing gesture. 

Fabia took a step toward him, and instinctively he fell back. 

"You?" she repeated, her black eyes, ablaze with the fire of a holyindignation, searching Gabinius's impure heart through and through. "You, little man? Are you fond of death, and yet lack courage to drinkthe poison yourself?"

"I dare anything!" cried Gabinius, getting more and more uncontrolled. "This is my house. These are my slaves. The high walls will cut offany screams you may utter in this court. I have you in my power. Youhave placed yourself in my hands by coming here. Refuse to do as Isay, and a charge will be laid against you before the _pontifices_, [109]that you have broken the vow which binds every Vestal. All theappearances will be against you, and you know what will follow then!"

 [109] College of chief priests. 

Fabia grew a shade paler, if it were possible, than before. 

"I know, " she replied, still very gently, "that an unfaithful Vestalis buried alive in the Campus Sceleratus; but I know, too, that herseducer is beaten to death with rods. Accuse me, or attack me, andwhatever be _my_ fate, I can say that which will send your black souldown to Tartarus with guilt enough for Minos to punish. Yourdelicately anointed skin would be sadly bruised by the stripes fallingupon it. And now, if these creatures will stand one side, I will leaveyou. "

And Fabia drew her mantle about her, and walked straight past theawestruck slaves into the atrium, where she unbolted the door andpassed out. Gabinius stood gazing after her, half-fascinated, half-dazed. Only when the door closed did he burst out to one of theslaves:--

"Timid dog, why did you let her escape?"

"Dominus, " whimpered the menial, "why did _you_ let her escape?"

"Insolence!" cried Gabinius, seizing a staff, and beating first one, then the other, of his servants indiscriminately; and so he continuedto vent his vexation, until Fabia's litter was well inside the PortaCapena. 

II

Fabia had thus escaped from the clutches of Gabinius, and the latterwas sullen and foiled. But none the less the Vestal was in a tremor offear for the consequences of her meeting with the libertine. She knewthat Gabinius was determined, dexterous, and indefatigable; that hewas baffled, but not necessarily driven to throw over his illicitquest. And Fabia realized keenly that going as she had unattended intoa strange house, and remaining there some time with no friendly eye tobear witness to her actions, would count terribly against her, ifGabinius was driven to bay. She dared not, as she would gladly havedone, appear before the pontifices and demand of them that they meteout due punishment on Gabinius for grossly insulting the sanctity of aVestal. Her hope was that Gabinius would realize that he could notincriminate her without ruining himself, and that he had been sothoroughly terrified on reflection as to what might be theconsequences to himself, if he tried to follow the intrigue, that hewould prudently drop it. These considerations hardly served to lightenthe gloom which had fallen across Fabia's life. It was not so much thepersonal peril that saddened her. All her life she had heard the uglydin of the world's wickedness pass harmlessly over her head, like astorm dashing at the doors of some secluded dwelling that shielded itsinhabitants from the tempest. But now she had come personally face toface with the demon of impurity; she had felt the fetid touch almostupon herself; and it hurt, it sickened her. Therefore it was that theother Vestals marvelled, asking what change had come over theircompanion, to quench the mild sunshine of her life; and Fabia heldlittle Livia very long and very closely in her arms, as if it were asolace to feel near her an innocent little thing "unspotted of theworld. "

All this had happened a very few days before the breathless Agias cameto inform Fabia of the plot against her nephew. Perhaps, as withCornelia, the fact that one near and dear was in peril aided to makethe consciousness of her own unhappiness less keen. None couldquestion Fabia's resolute energy. She sent Agias on his way, thenhurried off in her litter in quest of Caius Marcellus, the consul. Æmilius Paulus, the other consul, was a nonentity, not worth appealingto, since he had virtually abdicated office upon selling hisneutrality to Cæsar. But Marcellus gave her little comfort. She brokein upon the noble lord, while he was participating in a drunkengarden-party in the Gardens of Lucullus. The consul--hardly soberenough to talk coherently--had declared that it was impossible tostart any troops that day to Præneste. "To-morrow, when he had time, he would consider the matter. " And Fabia realized that the engine ofgovernment would be very slow to set in motion in favour of a markedCæsarian. 

But she had another recourse, and hastened her litter down one of thequieter streets of the Subura, where was the modest house occupied byJulius Cæsar before he became Pontifex Maximus. This building was nowused by the Cæsarian leaders as a sort of party headquarters. Fabiaboldly ordered the porter to summon before her Curio--whom she wassure was in the house. Much marvelling at the visit of a Vestal, theslave obeyed, and in a few moments that tribune was in her presence. 

Caius Scribonius Curio was probably a very typical man of his age. Hewas personally of voluptuous habits, fearfully extravagant, endowedwith very few scruples and a very weak sense of right and wrong. Buthe was clear-headed, energetic, a good orator, a clever reasoner, anastute handler of men, courageous, versatile, full of recourse, and onthe whole above the commission of any really glaring moral infraction. He was now in his early prime, and he came before Fabia as a man tall, athletic, deep-chested, deep-voiced, with a regular profile, a clear, dark complexion, curly hair carefully dressed, freshly shaven, and inperfect toilet. It was a pleasure, in short, to come in contact withsuch a vigorous, aggressive personality, be the dark corners of hislife what they might. 

Curio yielded to no man in his love of Lucrine oysters and goodCæcuban wine. But he had been spending little time on the dining couchthat evening. In fact he had at that moment in his hand a set oftablets on which he had been writing. 

"_Salve! Domina!_" was his greeting, "what unusual honour is thiswhich brings the most noble Vestal to the trysting spot of us poorPopulares. "

And, with the courtesy of a gentleman of the world, he offered Fabiaan armchair. 

"Caius Curio, " said the Vestal, wasting very few words, "do you knowmy nephew, Quintus Drusus of Præneste?"

"It is an honour to acknowledge friendship with such an excellentyoung man, " said Curio, bowing. 

"I am glad to hear so. I understand that he has already suffered noslight calamity for adhering to your party. "

"_Vah!_" and the tribune shrugged his shoulders. "Doubtless he has hada disagreeable time with the consul-elect, but from all that I canhear, the girl he lost was hardly one to make his life a happy one. It's notorious the way she has displayed her passion for young LuciusAhenobarbus, and we all know what kind of a man _he_ is. But I maypresume to remark that your ladyship would hardly come here simply toremind me of this. "

"No, " replied Fabia, directly, "I have come here to appeal to you todo something for me which Marcellus the consul was too drunk to try toaccomplish if he would. "

Fabia had struck the right note. Only a few days before AppiusClaudius, the censor, had tried to strike Curio's name from the rollsof the Senate. Piso, the other censor, had resisted. There had been anangry debate in the Senate, and Marcellus had inveighed against theCæsarian tribune, and had joined in a furious war of words. The Senatehad voted to allow Curio to keep his seat; and the anti-Cæsarians hadparaded in mourning as if the vote were a great calamity. 

Curio's eyes lit up with an angry fire. 

"Lump of filth! Who was he, to disoblige you!"

"You will understand, " said Fabia, still quietly; and then briefly shetold of the conspiracy against the life of Drusus, so far as she hadgathered it. 

"Where did you learn all this, " queried Curio, "if I may venture toask?"

"From Agias, the slave of Cornelia, niece of Lentulus. "

"But what is Drusus to her?" demanded the marvelling tribune. 

"He is everything to her. She has been trying to win her way intoAhenobarbus's confidence, and learn all of the plot. "

A sudden light seemed to break over the face of the politician. Heactually smiled with relieved pleasure, and cried, "_Papæ!_ Wonderful!I may be the farthest of all the world from Diogenes the Cynic; but aman cannot go through life, unless he has his eyes shut, and not knowthat there are different kinds of women. I was sorry enough to have tofeel that a girl like Cornelia was becoming one of Clodia's coterie. After all, the world isn't so bad as we make it out to be, if it isCurio the profligate who says it. "

"But Drusus, my nephew?" exclaimed Fabia. "He is in frightful danger. You know Dumnorix will have a great band of gladiators, and there isno force in Præneste that can be counted on to restrain him. "

"My dear lady, " said Curio, laughing, "I am praising the happy Geniusthat brought you here. We Cæsarians are taught by our leaders never todesert a friend in need; and Drusus has been a very good friend to us, especially by using all his influence, very successfully, for ourcause among the Prænestians and the people of those parts. When didyou say that Dumnorix would pass through the town?"

"Early to-morrow, possibly, " replied the Vestal. 

"_Phui!_ Dismiss all care. I'll find out at once how many gladiatorshe took with him to Anagnia. Some of his gang will be killed in thegames there, and more will be wounded and weak or disabled. I amtribune, and I imagine I ought not to be out of the city overnight, [110] but before daybreak to-morrow I will take Antonius andSallustius and Quintus Cassius; and perhaps I can get Balbus and ourother associates to go. We will arm a few slaves and freedmen; and itwill be strange indeed if we cannot scatter to the four windsDumnorix's gladiators, before they have accomplished any mischief. "

 [110] This was the law, that the tribunes might always be ready to render help (_auxilium_) to the distressed. 

"The gods reward you!" said Fabia, simply. "I will go back to theTemple, and pray that my nephew be kept from harm; and you also, andyour friends who will defend him. "

Curio stood in the atrium a long time after the Vestal had left. 

"The gods reward you!" he repeated. "So _she_ believes in the gods, that there are gods, and that they care for us struggling men. Ah!Caius, Caius Curio; if the mob had murdered you that day you protectedCæsar after he spoke in the Senate in favour of the Catilinarians, where would you be to-day? Whence have you come? Whither do you go?What assurance have you that you can depend on anything, but your ownhand and keen wits? What is to become of you, if you are knocked onthe head in that adventure to-morrow? And yet that woman believesthere are gods! What educated man is there that does? Perhaps wewould, if we led the simple lives our fathers did, and that womanlives. Enough of this! I must be over letters to Cæsar at Ravenna tillmidnight: and then at morn off to gallop till our horses arefoundered. "

Chapter X

Mamercus Guards the Door

I

Agias left Phaon in the clutches of the landlord and his subordinatesand was reasonably certain that since the freedman had not a farthingleft with which to bribe his keepers, he was out of harm's way for thetime being. The moon was risen, and guided by its light the youngslave flew on toward Præneste without incident. Whatever part of theconspirator's plans depended on Phaon was sure to collapse. For therest, Agias could only warn Drusus, and have the latter arm hisclients and slaves, and call in his friends from the town. With suchprecautions Dumnorix could hardly venture to risk himself and his men, whatever might be the plot. 

Thus satisfied in mind, Agias arrived at the estate of the Drusi, close to Præneste, and demanded admittance, about two hours beforemidnight. He had some difficulty in stirring up the porter, and whenthat worthy at last condescended to unbar the front door, the youngGreek was surprised and dismayed to hear that the master of the househad gone to visit a farm at Lanuvium, a town some fifteen miles to thesouth. Agias was thunderstruck; he had not counted on Drusus beingabsent temporarily. But perhaps his very absence would cause the plotto fail. 

"And what time will he return?" asked Agias. 

"What time?" replied the porter, with a sudden gleam of intelligencedarting up in his lack-lustre eyes. "We expect he will return earlyto-morrow morning. But the road from Lanuvium is across country andyou have to skirt the Alban Mount. He may be rather late in arriving, drives he ever so hard. "

"Hercules!" cried the agitated messenger. "My horse is blown, and Idon't know the road in the dark. Send, I pray you--by all the gods--toLanuvium this instant. "

"Aye, " drawled the porter, "And wherefore at such an hour?"

"It's for life and death!" expostulated Agias. 

The porter, who was a thick-set, powerful man, with a bristly blackbeard, and a low forehead crowned by a heavy shock of dark hair, atthis instant thrust out a capacious paw, and seized Agias roughly bythe wrist. 

"Ha, ha, ha, young cut-throat! I wondered how long this would last onyour part! Well, now I must take you to Falto, to get the beginning ofyour deserts. "

"Are you mad, fellow?" bawled Agias, while the porter, grasping him bythe one hand, and the dim lamp by the other, dragged him into thehouse. "Do you know who I am? or what my business is? Do you want tohave your master murdered?"

"_Perpol!_ Not in the least. That's why I do as I do. Tell your storyto Falto. _Eho!_ What's that you've got under your cloak?" And hepounced upon a small dagger poor Agias had carried as a precautionagainst eventualities. "I imagine you are accustomed to use a littleknife like this. " And the fellow gave a gleeful chuckle. 

It was in vain that Agias expostulated and tried to explain. Theporter kept him fast as a prisoner, and in a few moments by his shoutshad aroused the whole sleeping household, and stewards, freedmen, andslaves came rushing into the atrium. Candelabra blazed forth. Torchestossed. Maids screamed. Many tongues were raised in discordant shoutand question. At last order was in some measure restored. Agias foundhimself before a tribunal composed of Falto, the subordinate_villicus_, [111] as chief judge, and two or three freedmen to act incapacity of assessors. All of this bench were hard, grey-headed, weazened agriculturists, who looked with no very lenient eye upon thedelicate and handsome young prisoner before them. Agias had to answera series of savagely propounded questions which led he knew notwhither, and which he was almost too bewildered to answerintelligently. The true state of the case only came over him bydegrees. These were the facts. Drusus had known that there was aconspiracy against his life, and had taken precautions againstpoisoning or being waylaid by a small band of cut-throats such as heimagined Ahenobarbus might have sent to despatch him. He had notexpected an attack on the scale of Dumnorix's whole band; and he hadseen no reason why, accompanied by the trusty Mamerci and Cappadox, heshould not visit his Lanuvian farm. The whole care of guarding againstconspirators had been left to Marcus Mamercus, and that worthyex-warrior had believed he had taken all needed precautions. He hadwarned the porter and the other slaves and freedmen to be on thelookout for suspicious characters, and had let just enough of theplot--as it was known to him--leak out, to put all the household onthe _qui vive_ to apprehend any would-be assassin of their belovedyoung master. But with that fatuity which often ruins the plans of"mice and men, " he had failed to inform even his subordinate Falto ofthe likelihood of Agias arriving from Rome. It had obviously beendesirable that it should not be bruited among the servants thatCornelia and Drusus were still communicating, and when Agias was haledinto the atrium, his only identification was by some over-zealousslave, who declared that the prisoner belonged to the familia ofLentulus Crus, the bitter foe of their master. 

 [111] Farm steward. 

With senses unduly alert the porter, as soon as he was aroused fromhis slumbers, had noticed that evening that Agias had come on someunusual business, and that he was obviously confused when he learnedthat Drusus was not at home. With his suspicions thus quickened, everyword the luckless Greek uttered went to incriminate him in the mind ofthe porter. Agias was certainly an accomplice in the plot againstDrusus, sent to the house at an unseasonable hour, on some darkerrand. The porter had freely protested this belief to Falto and hiscourt, and to support his indictment produced the captured dagger, thesure sign of a would-be murderer. Besides, a large sum of gold wasfound on Agias's person; his fast Numidian horse was still steamingbefore the door--and what honest slave could travel thus, with such aquantity of money?

Agias tried to tell his story, but to no effect; Falto and hisfellow-judges dryly remarked to one another that the prisoner wastrying to clear himself, by plausibly admitting the existence of theconspiracy, but of course suppressing the real details. Agiasreasoned. He was met with obstinate incredulity. He entreated, prayed, implored. The prejudiced rustics mocked at him, and hinted that theycared too much for their patron to believe any tale that such amanifest impostor might tell them. Pausanias, the Mamerci, andCappadox, the only persons, besides Drusus, who could readily identifyhim, were away at Lanuvium. 

The verdict of guilty was so unanimous that it needed little or nodiscussion; and Falto pronounced sentence. 

"Mago, " to the huge African, "take this wretched boy to theslave-prison; fetter him heavily. On your life do not let him escape. Give him bread and water at sunrise. When Master Drusus returns hewill doubtless bid us crucify the villain, and in the morning Nattathe carpenter shall prepare two beams for the purpose. "

Agias comforted himself by reflecting that things would hardly go tothat terrible extremity; but it was not reassuring to hear Ligus, thecrabbed old cellarer, urge that he be made to confess then and thereunder the cat. Falto overruled the proposition. "It was late, andMamercus was the man to extort confession. " So Agias found himselfthrust into a filthy cell, lighted only by a small chink, near the topof the low stone wall, into which strayed a bit of moonlight. Thenight he passed wretchedly enough, on a truss of fetid straw; whilethe tight irons that confined him chafed his wrists and ankles. Needless to add, he cursed roundly all things human and heavenly, before he fell into a brief, troubled sleep. In the morning Mago, whoacted as jailer, brought him a pot of water and a saucer of uncookedwheat porridge;[112] and informed him, with a grin, that Natta wasmaking the beams ready. Agias contented himself by asking Mago to tellDrusus about him, as soon as the master returned. "You are very youngto wish to die, " said the Libyan, grimly. Agias did not argue. Magoleft him. By climbing up a rude stool, Agias could peer through theloophole, which by great luck commanded a fairly ample view of thehighway. Drusus he naturally expected would come from the south, toward Præneste. And thence every moment he trembled lest Dumnorix'sgang should appear in sight. But every distant dust-cloud for a longtime resolved itself sooner or later into a shepherd with a flock ofunruly sheep, or a wagon tugged by a pair of mules and containing asingle huge wine-skin. Drusus came not; Dumnorix came not. Agias grewweary of watching, and climbed painfully down from the stool to eathis raw porridge. Hardly had he done so than a loud clatter of hoofssounded without. With a bound that twisted his confined ankles andwrists sadly, Agias was back at his post. A single rider on a handsomebay horse was coming up from the direction of Rome. As he drew near tothe villa, he pulled at his reins, and brought his steed down to awalk. The horseman passed close to the loophole, and there was nomistaking his identity. Agias had often seen that pale, pimpled face, and those long effeminate curls in company with Lucius Ahenobarbus. The rider was Publius Gabinius, and the young Greek did not need to betold that his coming boded no good to Drusus. Gabinius lookedcarefully at the villa, into the groves surrounding it, and then upand down the highway. Then he touched the spur to his mount, and wasgone. 

 [112] _Puls_, the primitive Italian food. 

Agias wrung his manacled hands. Drusus would be murdered, Cornelia'shappiness undone, and he himself would become the slave of LuciusAhenobarbus, who, when he had heard Phaon's story, would show littleenough of mercy. He cursed the suspicious porter, cursed Falto, cursedevery slave and freedman on the estate, cursed Mamercus for notleaving some word about the possibility of his coming from Rome. Agias's imprecations spent themselves in air; and he was none thehappier. Would Drusus never come? The time was drifting on. The sunhad been up three or more hours. At any instant the gladiators mightarrive. 

Then again there was a clatter of hoofs, at the very moment when Agiashad again remounted to the loophole. There were voices raised inquestions and greetings; slave-boys were scampering to and fro to takethe horses; Drusus with Pausanias and the Mamerci had returned fromLanuvium. Agias pressed his head out the loophole and screamed toattract attention. His voice could not penetrate the domestic hubbub. Drusus was standing shaking hands with a couple of clients andevidently in a very good humour over some blunt rustic compliment. Mago was nowhere to be seen. Agias glanced up the road towardPræneste. The highway was straight and fairly level, but as it wentover a hill-slope some little way off, what was that he saw uponit?--the sun flashing on bright arms, which glinted out from thedust-cloud raised by a considerable number of men marching!

"Drusus! Master Drusus!" Agias threw all his soul into the cry. As ifto blast his last hope, Drusus hastily bowed away the salves and avesof the two clients, turned, and went into the villa. Agias groaned inagony. A very few moments would bring Dumnorix to the villa, and theyoung slave did not doubt that Gabinius was with the lanista to directthe attack. Agias tore at his chains, and cursed again, calling on allthe Furies of Tartarus to confound the porter and Falto. Suddenlybefore the loophole passed a slave damsel of winning face andblithesome manner, humming to herself a rude little ditty, while shebalanced a large earthen water-pot on her head. It was Chloë, whom thereader has met in the opening scene of this book, though Agias did notknow her name. 

"By all the gods, girl!" he cried frantically, "do you want to haveyour master slaughtered before your very eyes?"

Chloë stopped, a little startled at this voice, almost from under herfeet. 

"Oh, you, Master Assassin!" she sneered. "Do you want to repeat thosepretty stories of yours, such as I heard you tell last night?"

"Woman, " cried Agias, with all the earnestness which agony and fearcould throw into face and voice, "go this instant! Tell Master Drususthat Dumnorix and his gang are not a furlong[113] away. They mean tomurder him. Say that I, Agias, say so, and he, at least, will believeme. You yourself can see the sun gleaming on their steel as they marchdown the hill. "

 [113] About 606-3/4 English feet. 

Perhaps it was the sight which Agias indicated, perhaps it was hisearnest words, perhaps it was his handsome face--Chloë was verysusceptible to good looks--but for some cause she put down the pot andwas off, as fast as her light heels could carry her, toward the house. 

II

Drusus had ridden hard to get back early from Lanuvium and write someletters to Cornelia, for he had expected that Agias would come on thatvery afternoon, on one of his regular, though private, visits; and hewished to be able to tell Cornelia that, so long a time had elapsedsince he had been warned against Ahenobarbus and Pratinas, and as noattempt at all had been made on his life, her fears for him wereprobably groundless and the plot had been for some cause abandoned. Drusus himself was weary, and was glad to shake off the little knot ofclients and retire to his chamber, preparatory for a bath and a changeof clothes. He had seen Falto, but the latter deemed it best not totrouble his patron at the time by mentioning the prisoner. Mago, too, concluded that it was best to defer executing his promise. Drusus wasjust letting Cappadox take off his cloak, when the shrill voice ofChloë was heard outside the door, expostulating with the boy on guard. 

"I must see the dominus at once. It's very important. "

"Don't you see, you idiot, that you can't while he's dressing?"

"I _must!_" screamed Chloë. And, violating every law of subordinationand decorum, she threw open the door. 

Cappadox flew to eject her, but Chloë's quick tongue did its work. 

"A lad who calls himself Agias is chained in the ergastulum. He sayssome gladiators are going to attack the house, and will be here in amoment! Oh, I am so frightened!" and the poor girl threw her mantleover her head, and began to whimper and sob. 

"Agias!" shouted Drusus, at the top of his voice. "In the ergastulum?_Per deos immortales!_ What's this? Mamercus! Falto!"

And the young master rushed out of the room, Cappadox, who likelightning had caught up a sword, following him. 

Falto came running from the stables; Mamercus from the garden. Drususfaced his two subordinates, and in an eye's twinkling had taken in thesituation. Mamercus, who felt within himself that he, by hisoversight, had been the chief blunderer, to vent his vexation smoteFalto so sound a cuff that the under villicus sprawled his fulllength. 

"Go to the ergastulum and fetch Agias this instant, " cried Drusus, inthundering accents, to the trembling Mago, who had appeared on thescene. 

Mago disappeared like magic, but in an instant a din was rising fromthe front of the house, --cries, blows, clash of steel. Into theperistylium, where the angry young master was standing, rushed the oldslave woman, Laïs. 

"_Hei! hei!_" she screamed, "they are breaking in! Monsters! a hundredof them! They will kill us all!"

Drusus grew calm in an instant. 

"Barricade the doors to the atrium!" he commanded, "while I can put onmy armour. You, Mamercus, are too old for this kind of work; run andcall in the field-hands, the clients, and the neighbours. Cappadox, Falto, and I can hold the doors till aid comes. "

"I run?" cried the veteran, in hot incredulity, while with his singlehand he tore from its stout leather wall-fastenings a shield that hadbeen beaten with Punic swords at the Metaurus. [114] "I run?" herepeated, while a mighty crash told that the front door had given way, and the attackers were pouring into the atrium. And the veteran hadthrust a venerable helmet over his grizzled locks, and was wieldinghis shield with his handless left arm, while a good Spanishshort-sword gleamed in his right hand. 

 [114] The great battle won in 207 B. C. Over Hasdrubal. 

The others had not been idle. Cappadox had barred both doors leadinginto the front part of the house. Drusus had armed, and Falto, --a moreloyal soul than whom lived not, --burning to retrieve his blunder, hadsprung to his patron's side, also in shield and helm. 

"They will soon force these doors, " said Drusus, quietly, growing morecomposed as closer and closer came the actual danger. "Falto and Iwill guard the right. Cappadox and you, Mamercus, if you will stay, must guard the left. Some aid must come before a great while. "

But again the veteran whipped out an angry oath, and thundered, "Youstay, you soft-fingered Quintus! You stay and face those Germangiants! Why, you are the very man they are after! Leave fighting to anold soldier! Take him away, Cappadox, if you love him!"

"I will never leave!" blazed forth Drusus. "My place is here. A Livianalways faces his foes. Here, if needs be, I will die. " But before hecould protest further, Cappadox had caught him in his powerful arms, and despite his struggles was running with him through the rear of thehouse. 

Pandemonium reigned in the atrium. The gladiators were shivering finesculptures, ripping up upholstery, swearing in their uncouth Celtic orGerman dialects, searching everywhere for their victim in the roomsthat led off the atrium. A voice in Latin was raising loudremonstrance. 

"_Ædepol!_ Dumnorix, call off your men! Phaon hasn't led our bird intothe net. We shall be ruined if this keeps on! Drusus isn't here!"

"By the Holy Oak, Gabinius, " replied another voice, in barbarousLatin, "what I've begun I'll end! I'll find Drusus yet; and we won'tleave a soul living to testify against us! You men, break down thatdoor and let us into the rest of the house!"

Mamercus heard a rush down one of the passages leading to theperistylium. The house was almost entirely deserted, except by theshrieking maids. The clients and freedmen and male slaves were almostall in the fields. The veteran, Falto, and Pausanias, who had come in, and who was brave enough, but nothing of a warrior, were the onlydefenders of the peristylium. 

"You two, " shouted Mamercus, "guard the other door! Move that heavychest against it. Pile the couch and cabinet on top. This door I willhold. "

There was the blow of a heavy mace on the portal, and the wood sprangout, and the pivots started. 

"Leave this alone, " roared Mamercus, when his two helpers paused, asif to join him. "Guard your own doorway!"

"Down with it!" bellowed the voice of the leaders without. "Don't letthe game escape! Strike again!"

Crash! And the door, beaten from its fastenings by a mighty stroke, tumbled inward on to the mosaic pavement of the peristylium. The lightwas streaming bright and free into that court, but the passageway fromthe atrium was shrouded in darkness. Mamercus, sword drawn, stoodacross the entrance. 

"By the god Tarann!"[115] shouted Dumnorix, who from the rear of hisfollowers was directing the attack. "Here is a stout old game-cock!Out of the way, greybeard! We'll spare you for your spirit. Take him, some of you, alive!"

 [115] The Gallic thunder-god. 

Two gigantic, blond Germans thrust their prodigious bodies through thedoorway. Mamercus was no small man, but slight he seemed before thesemighty Northerners. 

The Germans had intended to seize him in their naked hands, butsomething made them swing their ponderous long swords and then, twoflashes from the short blade in the hand of the veteran, and both thegiants were weltering across the threshold, their breasts pierced andtorn by the Roman's murderous thrusts. 

"_Habet!_" cried Mamercus. "A fair hit! Come on, you scum of theearth; come on, you German and Gallic dogs; do you think I haven'tfaced the like of you before? Do you think your great bulks and fiercemustaches will make a soldier of Marius quiver? Do you want to tasteRoman steel again?"

And then there was a strange sight. A phantasm seemed to have comebefore every member of that mad, murderous band; for they saw, as itwere, in the single champion before them, a long, swaying line of menof slight stature like him; of men who dashed through their phalanxesand spear hedges; who beat down their chieftains; whom no arrow fire, no sword-play, no stress of numbers, might stop; but who charged homewith pilum and short-sword, and defeated the most valorous enemy. 

"Ha! Dogs!" taunted Mamercus, "you have seen Romans fight before, elseyou were not all here, to make sport for our holiday!"

"He is Tyr, [116] the 'one-armed, ' who put his left hand in the jaws ofFenris-wolf!" cried a German, shrinking back in dread. "A god isfighting us!"

 [116] A Germanic war-god. 

"Fools!" shouted Gabinius from a distance. "At him, and cut him down!"

"Cut him down!" roared Dumnorix, who had wits enough to realize thatevery instant's delay gave Drusus time to escape, or collect help. 

There was another rush down the passage; but at the narrow doorway thepress stopped. Mamercus fought as ten. His shield and sword wereeverywhere. The Roman was as one inspired; his eyes shone bright andclear; his lips were parted in a grim, fierce smile; he belched forthrude soldier oaths that had been current in the army of fifty yearsbefore. Thrusting and parrying, he yielded no step, he sustained nowound. And once, twice, thrice his terrible short-sword found itssheath in the breast of a victim. In impotent rage the gladiatorsrecoiled a second time. 

"Storm the other door!" commanded Dumnorix. 

The two defenders there had undertaken to pile up furniture againstit; but a few blows beat down the entire barrier. Falto and Pausaniasstood to their posts stoutly enough; but there was no master-swordsmanto guard this entrance. The first gladiator indeed went down with apierced neck, but the next instant Falto was beside him, atoning forhis stupid folly, the whole side of his head cleft away by a strokefrom a Gallic long-sword. 

"One rush and we have the old man surrounded, " exhorted Dumnorix, whenonly Pausanias barred the way. 

There was a growl and a bound, and straight at the foremost attackerflew Argos, Mamercus's great British mastiff, who had silently slippedon to the scene. The assailant fell with the dog's fangs in histhroat. Again the gladiators recoiled, and before they could return tothe charge, back into the peristylium rushed Drusus, escaped fromCappadox, with that worthy and Mago and Agias, just released, at hisheels. 

"Here's your man!" cried Gabinius, who still kept discreetly in therear. 

"Freedom and ten _sestertia_[117] to the one who strikes Drusus down, "called Dumnorix, feeling that at last the game was in his hands. 

 [117] About $400. 

But Mamercus had made of his young patron an apt pupil. All thefighting blood of the great Livian house, of the consulars andtriumphators, was mantling in Drusus's veins, and he threw himselfinto the struggle with the deliberate courage of an experiencedwarrior. His short-sword, too, found its victims; and across Falto'sbody soon were piled more. And now Drusus was not alone. For in fromthe barns and fields came running first the servants from the stables, armed with mattocks and muck-forks, and then the farm-hands with theirscythes and reaping hooks. 

"We shall never force these doors, " exclaimed Gabinius, in despair, ashe saw the defenders augmenting. 

Dumnorix turned to his men. 

"Go, some of you. Enter from behind! Take this rabble from the rear. In fair fight we can soon master it. "

A part of the gladiators started to leave the atrium, Gabinius withthem. An instant later he had rushed back in blank dismay. 

"Horsemen! They are dismounting before the house. There are more thana score of them. We shall be cut to pieces. "

"We have more than fifty, " retorted Dumnorix, viciously. "I willsacrifice them all, rather than have the attack fail!--" But before hecould speak further, to the din of the fighting at the doors of theperistylium was added a second clamour without. And into the atrium, sword in hand, burst Caius Curio, and another young, handsome, aquiline-featured man, dressed in a low-girt tunic, with a loose, coarse mantle above it, --a man known to history as Marcus Antonius, or"Marc Antony "; and at their backs were twenty men in full armour. 

The courage of the lanista had failed him. Already Drusus'sreinforcements in the peristylium had become so numerous and so wellarmed that the young chieftain was pushing back the gladiators andrapidly assuming the offensive. Gabinius was the first to take flight. He plunged into one of the rooms off the atrium, and through a sidedoor gained the open. The demoralized and beaten gladiators followedhim, like a flock of sheep. Only Dumnorix and two or three of his bestmen stood at the exit long enough to cover, in some measure, theretreat. 

Once outside, the late assailants gained a temporary respite, owing tothe fact that the defenders had been disorganized by their veryvictory. 

"We have lost, " groaned Gabinius, as the lanista drew his men togetherin a compact body, before commencing his retreat. 

"We are alive, " growled Dumnorix. 

"We cannot go back to Rome, " moaned the other. "We are all identified. No bribe or favour can save us now. "

"A robber's life is still left, " retorted Dumnorix, "and we must makeof it what we can. Some of my men know these parts, where they havebeen slaves, before coming to my hands. We must strike off for themountains, if we live to get there. "

All that day the country was in a turmoil. The Prænestean senate hadmet in hasty session, and the _decurions_[118] ordered the entirecommunity under arms to hunt down the disturbers of the peace. Notuntil nightfall did Dumnorix and a mere remnant of his band findthemselves able, under the shadow of the darkness, to shake off thepursuit. Gabinius was still with him. Curio and Antonius had chasedthem down with their horsemen; many of the gladiators had been slain, many more taken. For the survivors only the life of outlaws remained. The fastnesses of the Apennines were their sole safety; andthither--scarce daring to stop to pillage for victuals--they hurriedtheir weary steps. 

 [118] Local municipal magistrates. 

III

Lucius Ahenobarbus spent that day in frightful anxiety. One moment hewas fingering Drusus's money bags; the next haunted by the murderedman's ghost. When he called on Cornelia, her slaves said she had aheadache and would receive no one. Pratinas held aloof. No news allday--the suspense became unendurable. He lived through the followingnight harassed by waking visions of every conceivable calamity; buttoward morning fell asleep, and as was his wont, awoke late. The firstfriend he met on the street was Calvus, the young poet and orator. 

"Have you heard the news from Præneste?" began Calvus. 

"News? What news?"

"Why, how Dumnorix's gang of gladiators attacked the villa of yourdistant relative, Quintus Drusus, and were beaten off, while theytried to murder him. A most daring attempt! But you will hear allabout it. I have a case at the courts and cannot linger. "

And Calvus was gone, leaving Ahenobarbus as though he had beencudgelled into numbness. With a great effort he collected himself. After all, Dumnorix's gladiators were nothing to him. And when laterhe found that neither Dumnorix, nor Gabinius, nor Phaon had been takenor slain at Præneste, he breathed the easier. No one else exceptPratinas, he was certain, knew _why_ the lanista had made his attack;and there was no danger of being charged with complicity in theconspiracy. And so he was able to bear the stroke of ill-fortune withsome equanimity, and at last rejoice that his dreams would no longerbe haunted by the shade of Drusus. He was in no mood to meet Pratinas, and the smooth Greek evidently did not care to meet him. He wentaround to visit Cornelia again--she was still quite indisposed. So hespent that morning with Servius Flaccus playing draughts, a game atwhich his opponent was so excessively stupid that Ahenobarbus won atpleasure, and consequently found himself after lunch[119] in amoderately equable humour. Then it was he was agreeably surprised toreceive the following note from Cornelia. 

 [119] _Prandium_. 

"Cornelia to her dearest Lucius, greeting. 

I have been very miserable these past two days, but this afternoonwill be better. Come and visit me and my uncle, for there are severalthings I would be glad to say before you both. Farewell. "

"I think, " remarked Lucius to himself, "that the girl wants to havethe wedding-day hastened. I know of nothing else to make her desireboth Lentulus and myself at once. I want to see her alone. Well, Icannot complain. I'll have Drusus's bride, even if I can't have hismoney or his life. "

And so deliberating, he put on his finest saffron-tinted synthesis, his most elegant set of rings, his newest pair of black shoes, [120]and spent half an hour with his hairdresser; and thus habited herepaired to the house of the Lentuli. 

 [120] Black shoes were worn as a sort of badge by _equites_. 

"The Lady Cornelia is in the Corinthian hall, " announced the slave whocarried in the news of his coming, "and there she awaits you. "

Lucius, nothing loth, followed the servant. A moment and he was in thelarge room. It was empty. The great marble pillars rose cold andmagnificent in four stately rows, on all sides of the high-vaultedapartment. On the walls Cupids and blithesome nymphs were careering infresco. The floor was soft with carpets. A dull scent of burningincense from a little brazier, smoking before a bronze Minerva, in onecorner of the room, hung heavy on the air. The sun was shining warmand bright without, but the windows of the hall were small and highand the shutters also were drawn. Everything was cool, still, anddark. Only through a single aperture shot a clear ray of sunlight, andstretched in a radiant bar across the gaudy carpets. 

Lucius stumbled, half groping, into a chair, and seated himself. Cornelia had never received him thus before. What was she preparing?Another moment and Lentulus Crus entered the darkened hall. 

"_Perpol!_ Ahenobarbus, " he cried, as he came across his prospectivenephew-in-law, "what can Cornelia be wanting of us both? And in thisplace? I can't imagine. Ah! Those were strange doings yesterday up inPræneste. I would hardly have put on mourning if Drusus had beenferried over the Styx; but it was a bold way to attack him. I don'tknow that he has an enemy in the world except myself, and I can bidemy time and pay off old scores at leisure. Who could have been back ofDumnorix when he blundered so evidently?"

Ahenobarbus felt that it was hardly possible Lentulus would condemnhis plot very severely; but he replied diplomatically:--

"One has always plenty of enemies. "

"_Mehercle!_ of course, " laughed the consul-elect, "what would life bewithout the pleasure of revenge! But why does my niece keep uswaiting? Jupiter, what can she want of us?"

"Uncle, Lucius, I am here. " And before them, standing illumined in thepanel of sunlight, stood Cornelia. Ahenobarbus had never seen her sobeautiful before. She wore a flowing violet-tinted stola, that tumbledin soft, silky flounces down to her ankles, and from beneath it peeredthe tint of her shapely feet bound to thin sandals by bright redribbons. Her bare rounded arms were clasped above and below the elbowand at the wrists by circlets shaped as coiled serpents, whose eyeswere gleaming rubies. At her white throat was fastened a necklace ofinterlinked jewel-set gold pendants that shimmered on her half-bareshoulders and breast. In each ear was the lustre of a great pearl. Herthick black hair fell unconfined down her back; across her brow was afrontlet blazing with great diamonds, with one huge sapphire in theirmidst. As she stood in the sunlight she was as a goddess, an Aphroditedescended from Olympus, to drive men to sweet madness by the ravishingpuissance of her charms. 

"Cornelia!" cried Lucius, with all the fierce impure admiration of hisnature welling up in his black heart, "you are an immortal! Let methrow my arms about you! Let me kiss you! Kiss your neck but once!"And he took a step forward. 

"Be quiet, Lucius, " said Cornelia, speaking slowly and with as littlepassion as a sculptured marble endued with the powers of speech. "Wehave other things to talk of now. That is why I have called you here;you and my uncle. "

"Cornelia!" exclaimed the young man, shrinking back as though a sightof some awful mystery had stricken him with trembling reverence, "whydo you look at me so? Why do your eyes fasten on me that way? What areyou going to do?"

It was as if he had never spoken. Cornelia continued steadily, lookingstraight before her. 

"Uncle, is it your wish that I become the wife of Lucius Ahenobarbus?"

"You know it is, " replied Lentulus, a little uneasily. He could notsee where this bit of affection on the part of his niece would end. Hehad never heard her speak in such a tone before. 

"I think, uncle, " went on Cornelia, "that before we say anythingfurther it will be well to read this letter. It was sent to me, butboth you and Lucius will find it of some interest. " And she held outtwo or three wax tablets. 

Lentulus took them, eager to have done with the by-play. But when hesaw on the binding-cords the seal--which, though broken, still showedits impression--he gave a start and exclamation. 

"_Perpol!_ The seal of Sextus Flaccus, the great capitalist. "

"Certainly, why should it not be from him?"

Lentulus stepped nearer to the light, and read: Lucius standing by andhanging on every word, Cornelia remaining at her previous stationrigid as the bronze faun on the pedestal at her elbow. Lentulusread:--

"Sextus Fulvius Flaccus, to the most noble lady Cornelia:--

If you are well it is well with me. 

Perhaps you have heard how the plots of the conspirators against mydear friend and financial client Quintus Drusus have been frustrated, thanks, next to the god, to the wit and dexterity of Agias, who hasbeen of late your slave. Drusus as soon as he had fairly beaten offthe gladiators sent at once for me, to aid him and certain other ofhis friends in taking the confession of one Phaon, the freedman ofLucius Ahenobarbus, whom Agias had contrived to entrap in Gabii, andhold prisoner until the danger was over. Phaon's confession puts us incomplete possession of all the schemes of the plotters; and it will bewell for you to inform that worthy young gentleman, LuciusAhenobarbus, that I only forbear to prosecute him, and Pratinas, whoreally made him his supple tool, because I am a peaceable man whowould not bring scandal upon an old and noble family. If, however, anything should befall Drusus which should indicate that fresh plotsagainst his life were on foot, let Ahenobarbus be assured that I canno more regard him so leniently. I may add that since it was through amarriage with you that Ahenobarbus expected to profit by the murder, Ihave already advised Drusus that, according to the decisions ofseveral of the most eminent _jurisconsulti_, [121] a property provisionsuch as his father inserted in his will would not be binding, especially in view of the present facts of the case. Drusus hasaccordingly prepared a new will which, if questioned, I shall defendin the courts with all my power. Farewell. "

 [121] Expounders of the Roman law. 

Lentulus turned and glared with sullen amazement at his niece. ThatAhenobarbus should conspire against Drusus seemed the most naturalthing in the world. That the news that the conspiracy had failedshould come from such a quarter, and through the hands of his ownniece, at once terrified and angered him. Lucius was standing gaping, in half horror, half fascination, at Cornelia. Had she not urged himon? Had she not almost expressed her wish for Drusus's blood? The nameof Flaccus fell on his heart like a stone; for the great banker neverwent back when he had taken a stand, and was rich enough to corruptthe most lax and merciful jury. Ahenobarbus felt a trap snap upon him, and yet he had no hope of revenge. 

"Cornelia, " cried Lentulus, regaining at last the powers of speech, "why was this letter sent to you? What to you is that wretched youth, Quintus Drusus, who escaped a fate he richly deserved? Why do you notcondole with your lover on his misfortune? What do you mean by yourstony stare, your--"

"I mean, " retorted Cornelia, every word coming as a deep pant from herheaving chest, while her fingers clasped and unclasped nervously, andthe blood surged to her pallid cheeks, "I mean that I need no longerprofess to love what I hate; to cherish what I despise; to fondle whatI loathe; to cast soft looks on that which I would pierce withdaggers!" And she in turn took a step, quick and menacing, toward herwretched lover, who cowered and shrank back into the shadow of apillar. 

"But you yourself said you hoped I would soon rid you of Drusus, "howled Lucius. 

"Fool!" hissed the woman, through her clenched teeth. "Didn't you knowthat all that I said, all that I did, all that I thought, was for thisend--how might I save Quintus by learning the plans of the wretch whothirsted for his blood? Do you feel paid, now, for all your labours tosecure the wealth of a man whose name should not be uttered besidethat of yours?"

"And you do not love me!" screamed Ahenobarbus, springing at her, asif to force his arms around her neck. 

"Dog!" and Cornelia smote him so fairly in the face that he shrankback, and pressed his hand to a swelling cheek. "I said I hated anddespised you. What I despise, though, is beneath my hate. I wouldtread on you as on a viper or a desert asp, as a noxious creature thatis not fit to live. I have played my game; and though it was not I whowon, but Agias who won for me, I am well content. Drusus lives! Livesto see you miserably dead! Lives to grow to glory and honour, tohappiness and a noble old age, when the worms have long since finishedtheir work on you!"

"Girl, " thundered Lentulus, fiercely, "you are raving! Ahenobarbus isyour affianced husband. Rome knows it. I will compel you to marry him. Otherwise you may well blush to think of the stories that vulgarreport will fasten around your name. "

But Cornelia faced him in turn, and threw her white arms aloft asthough calling down some mightier power than human to her aid; and herwords came fast:--

"What Rome says is not what my heart says! My heart tells me that I ampure where others are vile; that I keep truth where others are false;that I love honourably where others love dishonourably. I knew thecost of what I would do for Drusus's sake; and, though the vilestslave gibber and point at me, I would hold my head as proudly as didever a Cornelian or Claudian maiden; for I have done that which my ownheart tells me was right; and more than that or less than that, can notrue woman do!"

Ahenobarbus felt the room spinning round him. He saw himself ruined ineverything that he had held dear. He would be the laughing-stock ofRome; he, the hero of a score of amorous escapades, the darling of asmany patrician maidens, jilted by the one woman to whom he had becomethe abject slave. Courage came from despair. 

"Be silent!" he gasped, his face black with fury. "If every word yousay were true, yet with all the more reason would I drag you in mymarriage procession, and force you to avow yourself my wife. Neverhave I been balked of woman; and you, too, with all your tragicbathos, shall learn that, if you won't have me for a slave, I'll bowyour neck to my yoke. "

"I think the very noble Lucius Ahenobarbus, " replied Cornelia, in thathigh pitch of excitement which produces a calm more terrible than anyopen fury, "will in person be the protagonist in a tragedy very sorryfor himself. For I can assure him that if he tries to make good histhreat, I shall show myself one of the Danaides, and he will need hisfuneral feast full soon after the wedding banquet. "

"Woman!" and Lentulus, thoroughly exasperated, broke in furiously. "Say another word, and I with my own hands will flog you like a commonslave. "

Cornelia laughed hysterically. 

"Touch me!" she shouted; and in her grasp shone a small bright dagger. 

Lentulus fell back. There was something about his niece that warnedhim to be careful. 

"Wretched girl!" he commanded, "put down that dagger. "

"I will not, " and Cornelia stood resolutely, confronting her twopersecutors; her head thrown back, and the light making her throat andface shine white as driven snow. 

There was very little chivalry among the ancients. Lentulusdeliberately clapped his hands, and two serving-men appeared. 

"Take that dagger from the Lady Cornelia!" commanded the master. Themen exchanged sly glances, and advanced to accomplish the disarming. 

But before they could catch Cornelia's slender wrists in their coarse, rough hands, and tear the little weapon from her, there were cuts andgashes on their own arms; for the struggle if brief was vicious. Cornelia stood disarmed. 

"You see what these mock heroics will lead to, " commented Lentulus, with sarcastic smile, as he observed his order had been obeyed. 

"_You_ will see!" was her quick retort. 

"_Hei! hei!_" screamed one of the slaves an instant later, sinking tothe floor. "Poison! It's running through my veins! I shall die!"

"You will die, " repeated Cornelia, in ineffable scorn, spurning thewretch with her foot. "Lie there and die! Cease breathing; sleep! Andthat creature, Ahenobarbus, yonder, shall sleep his sleep too, ere hework his will on me! Ha! ha! Look at my handiwork; the other slave isdown!"

"Girl! Murderess!" raged Lentulus. "What is this? You have slain thesemen. "

"I have slain your slaves, " said Cornelia, resolutely folding herarms; "the poison on the dagger was very swift. You did excellentlywell, Lucius, not to come near me. " And she picked up the dagger, which the slave, writhing in agony, had dropped. 

"Do you wish to attack me again? _Phy!_ I have more resources thanthis. This venom works too quickly. See, Syrax is already out of hismisery; and his fellow will soon be beyond reach of woe. When I strike_you_, Lucius Ahenobarbus, you shall die slowly, that I may enjoy yourpain. What need have I of this weapon?" And she flung the daggeracross the carpet so that it struck on the farther wall. "Pick it up, and come and kill me if you wish! Drusus lives, and in him I live, forhim I live, and by him I live. And you--and you are but as evil dreamsin the first watch of a night which shall be forgotten either in sweetunending slumbers, or the brightness of the morning. And now I havespoken. Do with me as it lies in your power to do; but remember whatpower is mine. _Vale!_"

And Cornelia vanished from the darkened hall. The two men heard theclick of the door, and turned and gazed blankly into one another'sfaces. 

"The gods defend me, but I shall be yoked to one of the Diræ!"stammered Ahenobarbus. 

Chapter XI

The Great Proconsul

I

The plot was foiled. Drusus was unquestionably safe. So long asFlaccus had the affidavits of Phaon's confession and the depositionsof the captured gladiators stored away in his strong-box, neitherLucius Ahenobarbus nor the ever versatile Pratinas would be likely torisk a new conspiracy--especially as their intended victim hadcarefully drawn up a will leaving the bulk of his property to TitusMamercus and Æmilia. Drusus had no near relatives, except Fabia andLivia; unless the Ahenobarbi were to be counted such; and it pleasedhim to think that if aught befell him the worthy children of his ageddefender would acquire opulence. 

But after the excitement was over, after Phaon had been brought upfrom the inn at Gabii to Præneste, and there had the truth wormed outof him by the merciless cross-examination of Curio and Flaccus; afterthe freedman had been suffered to depart with a warning and threat tohis prompters, after the captured gladiators had been crucified alongthe roadway leading toward Rome, and the wreck left in the atrium ofthe villa caused by the attack had been cleared away, --after all this, then the reaction came. Drusus, indeed, found that though the sunshone bright, its brightness was not for him. He had friends inplenty; but not such friends as he needed--as his heart craved. Truthto tell, he was one of those more delicate natures to whom the averagepity and the ordinary demonstrations of sympathy come with anoffending jar, and open, not heal, long-festering wounds. Curio waskind, but could only hold out the vaguest hopes that, for the presentat least, anything would compel the consul-elect to consent to hisniece's marriage with a mortal enemy. Flaccus took the same position. The hard-headed man of money thought that Drusus was a visionary, tobe so distraught over the loss of a wife--as if the possession of afortune of thirty odd millions did not make up for every possiblecalamity. Antonius was still less happy in his efforts at consolation. This dashing young politician, who had been equally at home basking inthe eyes of the young Egyptian princess, Cleopatra, eight yearsbefore, when he was in the East with Aulus Gabinius, or when fightingthe Gauls as he had until recently under his uncle, the greatproconsul, --had now been elected Tribune of the Plebs for the comingyear; and was looking forward to a prosperous and glorious career instatecraft. He had had many a love intrigue, and made such matters asort of recreation to the real business of life. Why Drusus--whocertainly had very fair worldly prospects before him--should notconsole himself for one unsuccessful passage of arms with Cupid, bystraightway engaging in another, he could not see. He plainlyintimated to his friend that there were a great many women, almost ifnot quite as good looking as Cornelia, who would survey him withfriendly eyes if he made but a few advances. And Drusus, wounded andstung, was thrown back on himself; and within himself he found verylittle comfort. 

Although he believed himself safe at last from the wiles ofAhenobarbus and his Greek coadjutors, there was still a great dreadwhich would steal over Drusus lest at any moment a stroke might fall. Those were days when children murdered parents, wives husbands, forwhim or passion, and very little came to punish their guilt. Thescramble for money was universal. Drusus looked forth into the world, and saw little in it that was good. He had tried to cherish an ideal, and found fidelity to it more than difficult. His philosophy did notassure him that a real deity existed. Death ended all. Was it notbetter to be done with the sham of life; to drink the Lethe water, andsink into eternal, dreamless slumber? He longed unspeakably to seeCornelia face to face; to kiss her; to press her in his arms; and thedesire grew and grew. 

She was no longer in the capital. Her uncle had sent her away--guardedby trusty freedmen--to the villa of the Lentuli at Baiæ. Thefashionable circles of the great city had made of her name a threedays' scandal, of which the echo all too often came to Drusus'soutraged ears. His only comfort was that Ahenobarbus had become thebutt and laughing-stock of every one who knew of his repulse by hislast inamorata. Then at last Drusus left Præneste for Rome. Ahenobarbus and Pratinas were as well checked as it was possible theycould be, and there was no real ground to dread assassination while inthe city, if moderate precautions were taken. Then too the time wascoming when the young man felt that he could accomplish somethingdefinite for the party for which he had already sacrificed so much. 

The events clustering around Dumnorix's unsuccessful attack had madeDrusus a sort of hero in the eyes of the Prænesteans. They had yearsbefore elected his father as their patron, their legal representativeat Rome, and now they pitched upon the son, proud to have this highlyhonourable function continued in the same family. This election gaveDrusus some little prestige at the capital, and some standing in thecourts and politics. When he went to Rome it was not as a mereindividual who had to carve out his own career, but as a man of honourin his own country, a representative of a considerable local interest, and the possessor of both a noble pedigree and an ample fortune. 

Curio found him plenty to do; wire-pulling, speech-making, privatebargaining, --all these were rife, for everybody knew that with thefirst of January, when Lentulus became consul, the fortunes of Cæsarwere to be made or marred irretrievably. There were rumours, alwaysrumours, now of Cæsar, now of Pompeius. The proconsul was going tomarch on Rome at once, and put all his enemies to the sword. Pompeiuswas to be proclaimed dictator and exterminate all who adhered to theanti-senatorial party. And into this _mêlée_ of factions Drusus threwhimself, and found relief and inspiration in the conflict. His innatecommon-sense, a very considerable talent for oratory which hadreceived a moderate training, his energy, his enthusiasm, hisincorruptibility, his straightforwardness, all made him valuable tothe Cæsarians, and he soon found himself deep in the counsels of hisparty, although he was too young to be advanced as a candidate for anypublic office. 

Agias continued with him. He had never formally deeded the boy toCornelia, and now it was not safe for the lad to be sent to dwell atBaiæ, possibly to fall into the revengeful clutches of Phaon, orPratinas, or Ahenobarbus. Drusus had rewarded Agias by giving him hisfreedom; but the boy had nowhere to go, and did not desire to leaveQuintus's service; so he continued as a general assistant andunderstrapper, to carry important letters and verbal messages, and toaid his patron in every case where quick wits or nimble feet wereuseful. He went once to Baiæ, and came back with a letter fromCornelia, in which she said that she was kept actually as a prisonerin her uncle's villa, and that Lentulus still threatened to forceAhenobarbus upon her; but that she had prepared herself for that finalemergency. 

The letter came at a moment when Drusus was feeling the exhilarationof a soldier in battle, and the missive was depressing and maddening. What did it profit if the crowd roared its plaudits, when he piledexecration on the oligarchs from the Rostra, if all his eloquencecould not save Cornelia one pang? Close on top of this letter cameanother disquieting piece of information, although it was only what hehad expected. He learned that Lentulus Crus had marked him outpersonally for confiscation of property and death as a dangerousagitator, as soon as the Senate could decree martial law. To have evena conditional sentence of death hanging over one is hard to bear withequanimity. But it was too late for Drusus to turn back. He had chosenhis path; he had determined on the sacrifice; he would follow it tothe end. And from one source great comfort came to him. His aunt, Fabia, had always seen in him her hero. With no children of her own, with very little knowledge of the world, she had centred all her hopesand ambitions on her sister's son; and he was not disappointing her. She dreamed of him as consul, triumphator, and dictator. She told himher hopes. She applauded his sacrifice. She told him of the worthiesof old, of Camillus, of the Scipios, of Marcellus, the "Sword ofRome, " of Lucius Æmilius Paulus, and a host of others, good men andtrue, whose names were graven on the fabric of the great Republic, andbade him emulate them, and be her perfect Fabian and Livian. And fromhis aunt Drusus gained infinite courage. If she was not Cornelia, yetit was a boon ineffable to be able to hear a pure, loving woman tellhim face to face that her heart suffered when he suffered, and thatall his hopes and fears were hers. 

Finally an interlude came to Quintus's political activity. Curio wasbecoming uneasy, lest his distant superior should fail to realize thefull venom of the Senate party and the determination of his enemies towork his ruin. 

"I must go to Ravenna, " said the politician to his young associate. "My tribuneship is nearly run out. Antonius and Cassius will take myplace in the office. And you, who have done so much for Cæsar, must goalso, for he loves to meet and to know all who are his friends. "

"To Cæsar I will go, " answered Drusus; and of himself he asked, "Whatmanner of man will this prove, whom I am serving? A selfish grasper ofpower? Or will he be what I seek--a man with an ideal?"

II

Night was falling on the dark masses of the huge Prætorium, thegovernment-house and army barracks of the provincial capital ofRavenna. Outside, sentinels were changing guard; Roman civil officialsand provincials were strolling in the cool of the porticos. Laughter, the shout of loungers at play, broke the evening silence. But far inthe interior, where there was a secluded suite of rooms, nothing butthe tinkle of a water-duct emptying into a cistern broke thestillness, save as some soft-footed attendant stole in and out acrossthe rich, thick carpet. 

The room was small; the ceiling low; the frescos not elaborate, but ofadmirable simplicity and delicacy. The furniture comprised merely afew divans, chairs, and tripods, but all of the choicest wood orbrass, and the most excellent upholstery. One or two carved woodencupboards for books completed the furnishings. 

There were only two persons in the room. One of them, --a handsomeyoung Hellene, evidently a freedman, was sitting on a low chair withan open roll before him. His companion half sat and half lay on adivan near by. This second person was a man of height unusual toItalians of his day; his cheeks were pale and a little sunken; hisdark eyes were warm, penetrating; his mouth and chin mobile and evenaffable, but not a line suggested weakness. The forehead was high, massive, and was exaggerated by a semi-baldness which was onlypartially concealed by combing the dark, grey-streaked hair forward. He was reclining; if he had arisen he would have displayed a frame atonce to be called soldierly, though spare and hardly powerful. Tocomplete the figure it should be added that on one finger he wore alarge ring set with a very beautiful seal of an armed Venus; and overhis loose but carefully arranged tunic was thrown a short, red mantle, caught together on the left shoulder--the paludamentum, a garment onlyworn by Roman military officers of the very highest rank. 

The general--for so his dress proclaimed him--was playing with astylus and a waxen tablet, while the young Greek read. Now and then hewould bid the latter pause while he made a few notes. The book wasEuripides's "Troades. "

"Read those lines again, " interrupted the general. The voice wasmarvellously flexile, powerful, and melodious. 

And the freedman repeated:--

 "Sow far and wide, plague, famine, and distress; Make women widows, children fatherless; Break down the altars of the gods, and tread On quiet graves, the temples of the dead; Play to life's end this wicked witless game And you will win what knaves and fools call Fame!"[122]

 [122] Translated in the collection "Sales Attici. "

The freedman waited for his superior to ask him to continue, but therequest did not come. The general seemed lost in a reverie; hisexpressive dark eyes were wandering off in a kind of quiet melancholy, gazing at the glass water-clock at the end of the room, but evidentlynot in the least seeing it. 

"I have heard enough Euripides to-day, " at length he remarked. "I mustattend to more important matters. You may leave me. "

The Greek rolled up the volume, placed it in the cupboard, and leftthe room with noiseless step. The general had arisen, and was standingbeside the open window that looked out into a quiet little court. Itwas dark. The lamps of the room threw the court-yard into a sombrerelief. Overhead, in the dimming, violet arch of the sky, one or twofaint stars were beginning to twinkle. 

 "Play to life's end this wicked witless game And you will win what knaves and fools call Fame!"

repeated the general, leaning out from the stone work of thewindow-casing in order to catch the cool air of the court. "Yes, fame, the fame of a Xerxes; perhaps the fame of a Hannibal--no, I wrong theCarthaginian, for he at least struck for his country. And what is itall worth, after all? Does Agamemnon feel that his glory makes therealm of Hades more tolerable? Does not Homer set forth Achilles as awarrior with renown imperishable? And yet, 'Mock me not, ' he makes theshade of Achilles say; 'Better to be the hireling of a stranger andserve a man of mean estate, whose living is but small, than be themonarch over all those dead and gone. '"

The general leaned yet farther out, and looked upward. "These were thestars that twinkled over the Troy of Priam; these were the stars thatshone on Carthage when she sent forth her armies and her fleets, andnigh drove the Greeks from Sicily; and these are the stars which willshine when Rome is as Troy and Carthage. And I--I am an atom, acreature of chance, thrown out of the infinite to flash like ashooting star for a moment across a blackened firmament and then inthe infinite to expire. _Cui bono?_ Why should I care how I live mylife, since in a twinkling it will all be as if it had never been? Andif Cato and Domitius and Lentulus Crus have their way with me, whatmatter? What matter if a stab in the dark, or open violence, or thesham forms of justice end this poor comedy? I and all others play. Allcomedy is tragedy, and at its merriest is but dolorous stuff. Whilethe curtain stays down[123] we are sorry actors with the whole worldfor our audience, and the hoots mingle full often with the applause. And when the curtain rises, that which is good, the painstakingeffort, the labour, is quickly forgotten; the blunders, the falsequantities in our lives, are treasured up to be flung against ournames. We play, but we do not know our parts; we are Oedipus, who hascommitted unwitting sin, and yet must reap his reward; we arePrometheus who is to be chained to the rock forever, for offending thegods; we are Orestes whom the Eumenides pursue, chasing him down forhis guilt. And all the time we vainly imagine that we are somevictorious hero, some Perseus, especially favoured by the gods to farescatheless over land and sea, and bear away the Medusa's head, andlive renowned and happy forever. " The reverie was becoming deeper anddeeper; the Roman was beginning no longer to whisper merely tohimself, he was half declaiming; then of a sudden, by a quickrevolution of mind, he broke short the thread of his monologue. "_Phui!_ Caius, you are ranting as if you were still a youth atRhodes, and Apollonius Molo were just teaching you rhetoric! Why hasno letter come from Curio to-day? I am anxious for him. There may havebeen a riot. I hadn't expected that those excellent 'Optimates' wouldbegin to murder tribunes quite so soon. The carrier is late!" and thegeneral moved away from the window, and took from a cupboard a packageof tablets, which he ran over hastily. "Here are the despatches ofyesterday. None to-day. I fear the worst. " The brow of the solitaryspeaker grew darker. "Poor Curio, poor Antonius; if they've dared tomurder them, let them tremble. I could forgive a mortal enemy tomyself, but not one who had slaughtered a friend. "

 [123] The ancient curtain (_aulæum_) had its roller at the bottom. 

There were steps in the court below, and voices were raised. In aninstant the general's eyes were kindled, his frame on a poise. Hesprang to the window, and shouted down the dark court. 

"Curio! Do I hear you speaking?"

"_Salve!_ Cæsar. It is I!"

"Venus be praised!" and the proconsul, with almost undignified haste, was running out upon the stairs to meet his friend. "Has the citybroken out? Has Antonius been murdered? Is the truce at an end? Areyou alone?"

And Curio, who did not quite possess his leader's ability to "do allthings at the same time, " answered in a breath: "The city so far keepstolerable order. Antonius is safe. The consuls and Senate still keepthe peace; but so poorly that I thought it my duty to come to you andsay things that cannot go in a letter. "

"And who is this young man with you?"

"My friend, " said Curio, turning to his companion, "is Quintus LiviusDrusus, of whom I have had occasion to write no little. "

The proconsul sprang forward and seized Drusus by both hands, andlooked him fairly in the eye. 

"_Papæ!_ I see Sextus Drusus once more, the best tribune in hislegion, and my dear friend. Your face should be cause for yourwelcome, if nothing else. Ah! how much we shall have to say! But youare travel-stained and weary. Words will keep while you bathe, and ourdinner is prepared; for I myself have not dined, waiting, as Ithought, for your despatches. "

"Your excellency shows me too much courtesy, " said Drusus, bowing inwhat was, to tell truth, some little embarrassment; "it is not fitthat a young man like myself should dine at the same table with animperator before whom nations have trembled. "

And then it was that Drusus caught his first glimpse of that noble andsententious egotism which was a characteristic of the great proconsul. 

"To be a friend of Cæsar is to be the peer of kings. "

Drusus bowed again, and then, with Curio, followed the attendants whowere leading them to comfortably, though not sumptuously, furnishedapartments. 

 * * * * *

Quintus Drusus in years to come sat at the boards of many great men, enjoyed their conversation, entered into their hopes and fears, but henever forgot the first dinner with the proconsul of the Gauls. Cæsarkept a double table. His hospitality was always ready for the peopleof note of the district where he happened to be staying, and for hisown regular army officers. But he dined personally with such high-rankRomans and very noble Provincials as chanced to be with him from dayto day. To this last select company Drusus found himself that eveningadmitted; and in fact he and Curio were the proconsul's only personalguests. The dinner itself was more remarkable for the refinement ofthe whole service, the exquisite chasteness of the decorations of thedining room, the excellent cooking of the dishes, and the choicenessof the wines than for any lavish display either of a great bill offare, or of an ostentatious amount of splendour. The company ofofficers and gentlemen of the Ravenna district dined together in aspacious hall, where Drusus imagined they had a rather more bounteousrepast than did the immediate guests of their entertainer. At one endof this large hall was a broad alcove, raised a single step, and herewas laid the dinner for the proconsul. Cæsar passed through the largecompany of his humbler guests, followed by Curio and Drusus, --nowspeaking a familiar word to a favourite centurion; now congratulatinga country visitor on his election to his local Senate; now introducingthe new-comers to this or that friend. And so presently Drusus foundhimself resting on his elbow on the same couch with Cæsar, while Curiooccupied the other end. For a time the latter held by far the largerpart of the conversation in his hands. There were a myriad tales totell of politics at the capital, a myriad warnings to give. Cæsarlistened to them all; and only rarely interrupted, and then with wordsso terse and penetrating that Drusus marvelled. The proconsul seemedto know the innermost life history and life motives of everything andeverybody. He described a character with an epithet; he fathomed apolitical problem with an expletive. Only now and then did his wordsor motions betray any deep personal concern or anxiety, and once onlydid Drusus see him flush with passion. 

"That affair of the magistrate of Coma, to whom you gave thefranchise, " said Curio, "was extremely unfortunate. You of courseheard long ago how Marcellus, the consul, had him beaten with rods andsent home, to show[124]--as he said--to you, Cæsar, the print of hisstripes. "

 [124] Cæsar had given the magistrates of towns of the north of Italy the Roman franchise: no Roman citizens could be lawfully flogged. By his action Marcellus denied Cæsar's right to confer the franchise. 

The face of the proconsul reddened, then grew black with hardly reinedfury. 

"Yes, most unfortunate for Marcellus. " It was all that Cæsar said, butDrusus would not have exchanged his life then, for that of Marcellus, for a thousand talents of gold. 

"And our dear friend, Cato, " went on Curio, who was perhaps notunwilling to stir the vials of his superior's wrath, "has just swornwith an oath in public, that as soon as your army is disbanded he willpress an impeachment against you; and I've heard it reported that youwill be compelled to plead, like Milo when he was tried for theClodius affair, before judges overawed by armed men. "

"I anticipate no such proceeding, " said Cæsar, dryly, in an accent ofinfinite contempt. Then turning to Drusus, he entirely changed hisintonation. 

"So long, " he said, with a shrug of his rather slight shoulders, "wehave talked of comitias and senates! Praise to the gods, all life isnot passed in the Forum or Curia! And now, my dear Quintus, let us putaside those tedious matters whereof we all three have talked andthought quite enough, and tell me of yourself; for, believe me, ourfriendship would be one-sided indeed, if all your trouble and exertionwent for me, and you received no solicitude in return. "

And Drusus, who had at first found his words coming awkwardly enough, presently grew fluent as he conversed with the proconsul. He told ofhis student days at Athens, of his studies of rhetoric and philosophy, of his journey back to Præneste, and the incidents of the sea voyage, and land travel; of his welcome at Præneste by the old retainers andthe familia of the Drusi, and then of his recent political work atRome. 

"These have been the chief events of my life, Cæsar, " he concluded, "and since you have condescended to hear, I have ventured to tell; butwhy need I ask if such a commonplace tale of a young man who has yethis life to live, should interest you?"

Cæsar smiled, and laying down the beaker from which he was sippingvery slowly, replied:--

"_Mehercle!_ And do you wish to have all your exploits crowded into afew short years of youth, that mature age will have nothing tosurpass? Listen, --I believe that when the historians, by whom our dearCicero is so anxious to be remembered favourably, write their books, they will say something of my name, --good or bad, the Geniusknows, --but fame at least will not be denied me. Twelve years ago whenI was in Spain I was reading in some book of the exploits of Alexanderthe Great. Suddenly it seemed as though I could not control myself. Ibegan to weep; and this was the explanation I gave to my friends, 'Ihave just cause to weep, when I consider that Alexander at my age hadconquered so many nations, and I have all this time done nothing thatis memorable. '"

"But even when your excellency went into Spain, " remarked Drusus, "youhad done that which should have given renown. Consider, you had wonthe prætorship, the office of Pontifex Maximus--"

"_St_, " interrupted the proconsul, "a list of titles is not a pledgefrom Fortune that she will grant fame. Besides, I was about toadd--what folly it was for me to weep! Do I imagine now, thatAlexander was happy and contented in the midst of his conquests?Rather, unless he were, indeed, of more than mortal stuff, for everymorsel of fame, he paid a talent of care and anxiety. Rush not tooquickly after fame; only with age comes the strength to pay the pricethereof. "

Drusus was half wondering at, half admiring, the unconsciouscomparison the proconsul was drawing between himself and Alexander. But Cæsar went on:--

"But you, O Drusus, have not dealt honestly with me, in that you havefailed to tell that which lies nearest your heart, and which youconsider the pivot of all your present life. "

Drusus flushed. "Doubtless, your excellency will pardon a young manfor speaking with diffidence on a subject, to recollect which is tocause pain. "

Cæsar put off the half-careless air of the good-natured wit, which hehad been affecting. 

"Quintus Livius Drusus, " and as he spoke, his auditor turned as ifmagnetized by his eye and voice, and hung on every word, "be notashamed to own to me, of all men, that you claim a good woman's love, and for that love are ready to make sacrifice. "

And as if to meet a flitting thought in the other's mind, Cæsarcontinued:--

"No, blush not before me, although the fashionable world of Rome willhave its stories. I care not enough for such gossip to take pains tosay it lies. But this would I have declared, when at your age, and letall the world hear, that I, Caius Cæsar, loved honourably, purely, andworthily; and for the sake of that love would and did defy deathitself. "

The proconsul's pale face flushed with something very akin to passion;his bright eyes were more lustrous than ever. 

"I was eighteen years old when I married Cornelia, the daughter ofCinna, the great leader of the 'Populares. ' Sulla, then dictator, ordered me to put her away. Cornelia had not been the wife of myfather's choice. He had wished to force upon me Cossutia, an heiress, but with little save riches to commend her. I gained neither riches, political influence, nor family good-will by the marriage. Sulla wasin the fulness of his strength. I had seen nearly all my friendsproscribed, exiled, or murdered. Sulla bade me put away my wife, andtake such a one as he should appoint. He was graciously pleased tospare my life, in order that I might become his tool. Why did Irefuse?"

Cæsar was sitting upon the couch and speaking nervously, in a mannerthat betokened great and unusual excitement. 

"I knew the dictator meant to favour me if I would only humour him inthis matter. A word from him and all ambition of mine had probablybeen at an end, I take no praise to myself for this. I refused him. Idefied his threats. He seized my property, deprived me of mypriesthood, [125] finally let loose his pack of assassins upon me. Ialmost became their victim. But my uncle, Aurelius Cotta, and somegood friends of mine among the Vestal Virgins pleaded my cause. Iescaped. Sulla said he was over-persuaded in sparing me; 'In me weremany Mariuses. ' But did I regret the loss, the danger, the check forthe time being to my career? Quintus Drusus, I counted them as oflittle importance, not to be weighed beside the pure love thatmastered me. And as the faithful husband of my Cornelia I remained, until cruel death closed her dear eyes forever. One can love once, andhonourably, with his whole being, but not truly and honourably love asecond time, at least not in a manner like unto the first. Therefore, my Quintus, blush not to confess that which I know is yours, --a thingwhich too many of us Romans do not know in these decliningdays, --something that would almost convince me there were indeedcelestial gods, who care for us and guide our darkened destinies. Forwhen we reason of the gods, our reason tells us they are not. But whenpure passion possesses our hearts, then we see tangible visions, thenour dreams become no dreams but realities; we mount up on wings, wefly, we soar to Olympus, to Atlantis, to the Elysian fields; we nolonger wish to know, we feel; we no longer wish to prove, we see; andwhat our reason bids us to reject, a surer monitor bids us to receive:the dangers and perils of this life of shades upon the earth are of noaccount, for we are transformed into immortals in whose veins coursesthe divine ichor, and whose food is ambrosial. Therefore while we lovewe do indeed dwell in the Islands of the Blessed: and when the visionfades away, its sweet memory remains to cheer us in our life below, and teach us that where the cold intellect may not go, there is indeedsome way, on through the mists of the future, which leads we know notwhither; but which leads to things purer and fairer than those whichin our most ambitious moments we crave. "

 [125] Marius had made young Cæsar, Flamen Dialis: priest of Jupiter. 

The voice of the conqueror of Gaul and German sank with a half tremor;his eye was moist, his lips continued moving after his words hadceased to flow. Drusus felt himself searched through and through byglance and speech. Was the proconsul a diviner to find all that wasdeepest in his soul and give it an utterance which Drusus had neverexpressed even to himself? The young man was thrilled, fascinated. AndCæsar, in quite another tone, recovered himself and spoke. 

"Wherefore, O Drusus! be ashamed to tell how the Lady Cornelia lovesyou and you love her? What if the grim old consul-elect, like thejealous elder in the comedy, will stand in your way! _Phui!_ What arethe complaints, threats, and prohibitions of such as he? At present, the wind blows from his quarter, but it will not be ever so. EitherLentulus will be in no place to hinder you before long, or we allshall be beyond caring for his triumph or failure. "

"Your excellency bids me hope!" cried Drusus. 

"I bid you love, " replied Cæsar, smiling. "I bid you go to Baiæ, forthere I have heard your dear lady waits her long-absent Odysseus, andtell her that all will be well in time; for Cæsar will make it so. "

"For Cæsar will make it so, " repeated the young man, half-unconsciousthat he was speaking aloud. 

"For Cæsar will make it so, " reiterated the proconsul, as though Zeuson Olympus were nodding his head in awful and irrevocable promise. 

And the proconsul took both of his guest's hands in his own, and said, with seriousness:--

"Quintus Drusus, why did you abandon your bride to support my cause?"

"Because, " replied the other, with perfect frankness, "I should not beworthy to look Cornelia in the face, if I did not sacrifice all to aidthe one Roman who can save the state. "

"Young man, " replied the proconsul, "many follow me for selfish gain, many follow me to pay off a grudge, but few follow me because theybelieve that because Cæsar is ambitious, he is ambitious as a godshould be ambitious--to bestow the greatest benefits possible upon themen entrusted to his charge. I know not what thread for me the Fateshave spun; but this I know, that Cæsar will never prove false to thosewho trust him to bring righteousness to Rome, and peace to the world. "

 * * * * *

That night, as Drusus was retiring, Curio spoke to him:--

And what manner of man do you think is the proconsul?"

"I think, " replied Drusus, "that I have discovered the one man in theworld whom I craved to find. "

"And who is that?"

"The man with an ideal. "

Chapter XII

Pratinas Meets Ill-Fortune

I

Probably of the various personages mentioned in the course of ourstory none was more thoroughly enjoying life about this time thanAgias. Drusus had left him in the city when he started for Ravenna, with general instructions to keep an eye on Lucius Ahenobarbus andPratinas, and also to gather all he could of the political drift amongthe lower classes. Agias was free now. He let his hair grow long intoken of his newly gained liberty; paraded a many-folded toga; andused part of the donatives which Drusus and Fabia had lavished uponhim, in buying one or two slave-boys of his own, whom, so far fromtreating gently on account of his own lately servile position, hecuffed and abused with grim satisfaction at being able to do what hadso often been done to him. 

Agias had been given lodgings by Drusus in a tenement house, owned bythe latter, in the Subura. 

The rooms were over a bakery, and at the sides were a doctor's andsurgeon's office and a barber's shop--a rendezvous which gave theyoung Greek an admirable chance to pick up the current gossip. Everystreet-pedler, every forum-idler, had his political convictions andpet theories. The partisans who arrogated to themselves the modestepithet of "The Company of All Good Men, " clamoured noisily that"Liberty and Ancient Freedom" were in danger, if Cæsar set foot inRome save as an impeached traitor. And the Populares--the supportersof the proconsul--raged equally fiercely against the greed of theSenate party that wished to perpetuate itself forever in office. Agiascould only see that neither faction really understood the causes forand against which they fought; and observed in silence, trusting thathis patron knew more of the issues than he. 

But the newly manumitted freedman was thoroughly enjoying himself. Thewindy speeches in the Senate, the crowded and excited meetings in theForum, the action and reaction of the tides of popular prejudice andfancy, the eloquence of Antonius, and the threatenings and ravings ofMarcellus the consul--all these were interesting but not disturbing. Agias was catching glimpses of a little Olympus of his own--an Olympusin which he was at once Zeus, Poseidon, and Apollo; Sesostris--so hedeclared--the lame cup-bearer Hephæstus; and in place of Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, were the smiles and laughter of Artemisia. Agias washead over ears in love with this pretty little cage-bird shut up inPratinas's gloomy suite of rooms. Her "uncle" took her out now andthen to the theatre or to the circus; but she had had little enoughcompanionship save such as Sesostris could give; and to her, Agias wasa wonderful hero, the master of every art, the victor over a hundredmonsters. He had told her of his adventure with Phaon--not callingnames, lest disagreeable consequences ensue--and Artemisia dreamed ofhim as the cleverest creature on the earth, able to outwit Hermes insubtlety. Agias had found out when Pratinas was likely to be away fromhome--and that worthy Hellene, be it said, never declined aninvitation to dine with a friend--and Agias timed his visitsaccordingly. He taught Artemisia to play the cithera and to sing, andshe made such rapid progress under his tutoring that the unconsciousPratinas commended her efforts to acquire the accomplishments hewished. And Agias was never so happy as when those bright eyes werehanging on his lips or that merry tongue was chattering a thousandpointless remarks or jests. 

Yes, Agias found himself in a condition when he could well ask to haveno change. The possibility that Pratinas would come home, and put anend to the romance once and for all, was just great enough to give theaffair the zest of a dangerous adventure. Despite Sesostris's warningsthat Artemisia might at any time be sold away by her pseudo-uncle, Agias could not discover that that danger was imminent enough to needfrustration. He was content to live himself and to let Artemisia live, basking in the stolen sunshine of the hour, and to let the thought ofthe approaching shadows fade out of his mind. 

Another person who saw the sunshine rather brighter than before wasPisander. That excellent philosopher had received his share of thegratitude Drusus had bestowed on his deliverers. But he was still inthe service of Valeria, for Drusus saw that he had admirableopportunities for catching the stray bits of political gossip thatinevitably intermixed themselves with the conversation of Valeria andher circle. Pisander had continued to read Plato to his mistress, andto groan silently at her frivolity; albeit, he did not groan sohopelessly as before, because he had good money in his pouch and knewwhere to procure more when he needed it. 

So Agias enjoyed himself. He was a youth; a Pagan youth; and in hisshort life he had seen many a scene of wickedness and shame. Yet therewas nothing unholy in the affection which he found was daily growingstronger and stronger for Artemisia. She was a pure, innocent flower, that by the very whiteness of her simple sweet presence drove awayanything that "defiled or made a lie. " Agias did not worship her; shewas too winning; too cunning and pretty to attract the leastreverence; but in her company the young Greek was insensibly raisedpinnacles above the murky moral atmosphere in which most men andyouths of his station walked. 

It was all like an Idyl of Theocritus; with the tenement of Pratinasfor a shepherd's hut; and Sesostris for a black-backed sheep to whomthe herdsmen and the nymph of his love could play on "oaten reed. " Atfirst, Agias had never dreamed of telling a word of his affection toArtemisia. In truth, it was very hard to tell, for she, with anabsolute innocence, took all his advances for far more than they wereworth; told him that next to her "uncle and dear Sesostris" he wasquite the best friend she had; that she loved him, and was glad tohear him say that he loved her. 

All this was delightful in the ears of her admirer, but verydisconcerting. Agias thought of the hollow civilities of Valeria'slife, as he had seen it; of the outward decorum of language, of thedelicately veiled compliments, of the interchange of words that summedup, in a few polished commonplaces, a whole network of low intrigueand passion. Was this the same world! Could Valeria and Artemisia bothbe women! The one--a beauty, whose guilty heart was not ignorant of asingle form of fashionable sin; the other--as it were, a blossom, thatwas pure sweetness, in whose opening petals the clear diamond of themorning dew still remained! Agias did not compare Artemisia withCornelia; for Cornelia, in his eyes, was a goddess, and in beauty andpassions was above the hope or regard of mortal men. 

But what was one to do in an emergency like the following? Agias hadbeen singing the "Love Song" from the "Cyclops, " and trying to throwinto the lines all the depth of tender affection which voice and lookrendered possible. 

 "One with eyes the fairest Cometh from his dwelling, Some one loves thee, rarest, Bright beyond my telling. In thy grace thou shinest Like some nymph divinest, In her caverns dewy;-- All delights pursue thee, Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing, Shall thy head be wreathing. "[126]

 [126] Translated by Shelley. 

And at the conclusion of the song Artemisia threw her arms aroundAgias's neck and kissed him; and then with astounding impartialitysprang into Sesostris's lap, and patted the old Ethiop's black cheeks, and bestowed on him all manner of endearing epithets. What was poorAgias to do in such a case? He blankly concluded that it had provedeasier to blast the plot of Pratinas and Ahenobarbus, than to win thelove--as he meant "love"--of this provokingly affectionate girl. Itwas growing late. Pratinas might at any time return. And Agiasconstrained himself to depart. 

"By Zeus!" was the exclamation he addressed to himself as he foughthis way through the crowds toward his own quarters; "where will thisall end? How much longer are you going to lie in the toils of thatmost innocent of Circes? Will she never open her eyes? If I could onlymake her cry, 'I hate you!' there would be some hope; for when onehates, as I want her to, love is but a step away. Confound thatSesostris! For me to have to sit there, and see that baboon kissed andfondled!"

And so reflecting, he reached his rooms. One of the lucklessslave-boys who now addressed him as "Dominus, " was waiting to tell himthat a very gaunt, strange-looking man, with an enormous beard, hadcalled to see him while he was out, and would return--so the visitorsaid--in the evening, for his business was important. "Pisander, "remarked Agias; and he stayed in that evening to meet the philosopher, although he had arranged to share a dinner with one or two otherfreedmen, who were his friends. 

The man of learning appeared at a very late hour. In fact, thewater-clock showed that it wanted little of midnight before he came. His explanation was that Valeria had called him in to read verses to acompany of friends who were supping with her, and he could not getaway sooner. Besides, the dark streets were full of bandits, and hehad therefore taken a circuitous route to avoid attack. Agias had tolet him ramble through all the details, although he knew very wellthat Pisander would never have taken so much trouble to come if he hadnot had information of the first importance to impart. 

"And now, my dear Pisander, " ventured the young Greek, at length, "Iwill ask Dromo to set something to drink before us; and I hope youwill tell me why you have come. "

Pisander glanced timidly over his shoulder, pulled at his beard withsuppressed excitement, then bent down, and in a very low voice burstout:--

"Pratinas and"--he hesitated--"Valeria!"

"_Ai"_ cried Agias, "I have suspected it for a very long time. You aresure the fox has snapped up his goose?"

"By Hercules, very sure! They are planning to go to Egypt. Pratinashas just had a wonderful stroke of luck. He received six hundredthousand sesterces[127] with which to corrupt a jury for some poorwretch who expected to enlist Pratinas's cunning to get him out of thetoils of the law. Pratinas calmly put the money in his strong-box, andlet the unhappy wight be cast. He is not at all poor--he has amassed alarge fortune while he has been in Rome. Shade of Plato! how thisknave has prospered! And now he is arranging with Valeria to strippoor Calatinus of nearly all his valuables, before they fly thecountry. "

 [127] $24, 000. 

"Ah, luckless Calatinus!" laughed Agias. "That will be the end of hismarrying the handsomest woman in Rome. And so this is what you camehere to tell me? It really was a good secret to keep. "

"_St!_" interrupted Pisander, "Pratinas has something else to attendto. Calatinus will get consolation for losing his dear spouse. Isuppose Pratinas wishes to indemnify him, but he himself will make agood bit at the same time. "

In a twinkling a thought had flashed through Agias's mind, that made acold sweat break out all over him, and a hot surge of blood mount tohis head. 

"Man, man!" he cried, grasping Pisander's wrists with all hisstrength, "speak! Don't look at me this way! Don't say that you meanArtemisia?"

"_Ai!_ You know the girl, then?" said the other, with the mostexcruciating inquisitiveness. 

"Know her?" raged Agias, "I love the sunbeam on which her eyes rest. Speak! Tell me all, everything, all about it I Quick! I must know!"

Pisander drew himself together, and with a deliberation that wasnearly maddening to his auditor, began:--

"Well, you see, I had occasion this morning to be in Calatinus'slibrary. Yes, I remember, I was just putting the new copy of Theognisback into the cupboard, when I noticed that the Mimnermus was notneatly rolled, and so I happened to stay in the room, and--"

"By Zeus, speak faster and to the point!" cried Agias. 

"Oh, there wasn't very much to it all! Why, how excited you are!Pratinas came into the atrium, and Calatinus was already there. Iheard the latter say, 'So I am to give you forty thousand sestercesfor the little girl you had with you at the circus yesterday?' AndPratinas replied, 'Yes, if she pleases you. I told you her name wasArtemisia, and that I always taught her to believe that she was myniece. '"

"_Hei! Hei!_" groaned Agias, rushing up and down the room, halffrantic. "Don't tell any more, I've heard enough! Fool, fool I havebeen, to sit in the sunshine, and never think of preparing to carryout my promise to Sesostris. No, you must tell me--you must tell me ifyou have learned any more. Did Calatinus fix on any time at which hewas to take possession of the poor girl?"

"No, " replied the still amazed Pisander. "I did not hear the wholeconversation. There was something about 'a very few days, ' and thenPratinas began to condole with Calatinus over being beaten for thetribunate after having spent so much money for the canvass. But whyare you so stirred up? As Plato very admirably observes in his'Philebus'--"

"The Furies seize upon your 'Philebus'!" thundered Agias. "Keep quiet, if you've nothing good to tell! Oh, Agias, Agias! where are your wits, where is your cunning? What in the world can I do?"

And so he poured out his distress and anger. But, after all, there wasnothing to be done that night. Pisander, who at last began to realizethe dilemma of his friend, ventured on a sort of sympathy which wasworse than no sympathy at all, for philosophical platitudes are everthe worst of consolations. Agias invited the good man to spend thenight with him, and not risk a second time the robbers of the streets. The young Greek himself finally went to bed, with no definite purposein his mind except to rescue Artemisia, at any and every hazard, fromfalling into the clutches of Calatinus, who was perhaps the one man inthe world Agias detested the most heartily. 

II

Early in the morning Agias was awake. He had slept very little. Theface of Artemisia was ever before him, and he saw it bathed in tears, and clouded with anguish and terror. But, early as he arose, it wasnone too early. Dromo, one of his slaves, came to announce to hisdread lord that an aged Ethiop was waiting to see him, and Agias didnot need to be told that this was Sesostris. 

That faithful servant of an unworthy master was indeed in a pitiablecondition. His ordinarily neat and clean dress was crumpled anddisarranged, as though he had not changed it during the night, but hadrather been tossing and wakeful. His eyes were swollen, and tears weretrickling down his cheeks. His voice had sunk to a husky choking, andwhen he stood before Agias he was unable to get out a word, but, aftera few vain attempts which ended in prolonged sniffles, thrust into hisyoung friend's hand a tablet. 

It was in Greek, in the childish, awkward hand of Artemisia, and ranas follows:--

"Artemisia to her dear, dear Agias. I never wrote a letter before, andyou must excuse the blunders in this. I don't know how to begin totell you the dreadful thing that may happen to me. I will try and stopcrying, and write it out just as it all happened. The day beforeyesterday Pratinas took me to the circus, where I enjoyed the racingvery much. While we were sitting there, a very fine gentleman--atleast he had purple stripes on his tunic and ever so many rings--cameand sat down beside us. Pratinas told me that this gentleman wasLucius Calatinus, who was a great lord, but a friend of his. I triedto say something polite to Calatinus, but I didn't like him. He seemedcoarse, and looked as though he might be cruel at times. He talked tome something the way you have talked--said I was pretty and my voicesounded very sweet. But I didn't enjoy these things from him, I canhardly tell why--though I'm delighted to hear you say them. Well, after quite a while he went away, and I didn't think anything moreabout him for a time, and yesterday you know how happy I was when youvisited me. Only a little while after you left, Pratinas came back. Icould see that he had something on his mind, although he said nothing. He seemed uneasy, and kept casting sidelong glances at me, which mademe feel uncomfortable. I went up to him, and put my arms around hisneck. 'Dear uncle, ' I said, 'what is troubling you to-night?''Nothing, ' he answered, and he half tried to take my arms away. Thenhe said, 'I was thinking how soon I was to go back to Alexandria. ' 'ToAlexandria!' I cried, and I was just going to clap my hands when Ithought that, although Alexandria was a far nicer place than Rome, youcould not go with us, and so I felt very sorry. Then Pratinas spokeagain in a hard, cold voice he has never used to me before. 'Artemisia, I must tell you now the truth about yourself. I have letyou call me uncle, and have tried to be kind to you. But you cannotcome back to Alexandria with me. The day after to-morrow Calatinus, the gentleman you met at the circus yesterday, will come and take youaway. He is a very rich man, and if you please him will give youeverything you desire. ' I couldn't understand at all what he meant, and cried out, 'But, uncle, I don't like Calatinus, and you--you don'treally mean to leave me behind?' 'You little donkey, ' said Pratinas, laughing, oh! so heartlessly, 'I'm not your uncle. You've been myslave, and I've sold you to Calatinus; so don't quarrel with him, butlearn to like him quickly. ' I don't remember what he said or I saidnext. I was so frightened and grieved that I don't know what I did. Iknow Pratinas finally whipped me, something he never did before. Iwent to bed feeling so sore, that I could not get really to sleep, butdreadful visions of Calatinus kept frightening me. I don't know whichgrieves me most, to know I am a slave, to know that Pratinas is not myuncle and does not love me, or to be about to be sold to Calatinus. Dear Sesostris has done all he can to console me, but that's verylittle; and so, very early this morning, I've written to you, Agias, just as soon as Pratinas left the house, for I am sure that you, whoare so clever and wise, can see some way to get me out of my dreadfultrouble. "

It would be hardly necessary to say that, after reading this appeal, Agias hurried away to do all that lay in his power to consoleArtemisia, and deliver her from her danger. When he reached Pratinas'stenement, Artemisia ran to meet him, and kissed him again and again, and cuddled down in his strong, young arms, quite content to believethat she had found a protector on whom she could cast all her burdens. And Agias? He laughed and bade her wipe away her tears, and swore agreat oath that, so long as he breathed, Calatinus should not lay afinger upon her. 

Artemisia had practically told all her story in her letter. It wasclear that Calatinus had caught sight of her several times, --thoughshe had remained in blissful ignorance, --and Pratinas had deliberatelyplanned to waylay him as a customer who would pay a good price for thegirl, whom it would be manifestly inconvenient for him to take withValeria on his premeditated flight to Egypt. But this enlightenmentdid not make Agias's task any the easier. He knew perfectly well thathe could never raise a tithe of the forty thousand sesterces thatPratinas was to receive from Calatinus, and so redeem Artemisia. Hehad no right to expect the gift of such a sum from Drusus. If Pratinasreally owned the poor girl as a slave, he could do anything he listedwith her, and no law could be invoked to say him nay. There was onlyone recourse left to Agias, and that was fairly desperate--to carryoff Artemisia and keep her in hiding until Pratinas should give up thequest and depart for Egypt. That there was peril in such a step he waswell aware. Not merely could Artemisia, if recaptured, receive anyform whatsoever of brutal punishment, but he, as the abettor of herflight, would be liable to a heavy penalty. Slave property wasnecessarily very precarious property, and to aid a slave to escape wasan extremely heinous crime. "So many slaves, so many enemies, " ran theharsh maxim; and it was almost treason to society for a freedman toaid a servant to run away. 

But Agias had no time to count the cost, no time to evolve a plan ofescape that admitted no form of disaster. Artemisia besought him notto leave her for a moment, and accordingly he remained by her, laughing, poking fun, and making reckless gibes at her fears. Sesostris went about his simple household duties with a long face, andnow and then a tear trickled down his cheek. Whatever came of thematter, Artemisia would have to be separated from him. He might neversee her again, and the old Ethiopian loved her more than he did lifeitself. 

"You will not wrong the girl when she is with you?" he whispereddolefully to Agias. 

"I swear by Zeus she shall be treated as if she were my own dearsister, " was his reply. 

"It is well. I can trust you; but _mu! mu!_ it is hard, it is hard! Ilove her like my own eyes! Isis preserve her dear life!"

And so at last Artemisia, having cried out all her first burst ofgrief, was beginning to smile once more. 

"And now, oh! makaira, "[128] said Agias, "I must go away for just alittle while. I have ever so many things to attend to; and you must bea good, brave girl, and wait until I come back. "

 [128] Blessed dear. 

"_St!"_ broke in Sesostris, "there's a step on the stairs. Pratinas iscoming!"

"Hide me!" cried Agias, as the approaching feet grew nearer. There wasno time to take refuge in one of the farther rooms. 

"Here;" and Sesostris threw open the same iron clamped chest in whichsome time ago we saw Pratinas inspecting his treasure. "The money wastaken out yesterday. "

Agias bounded into the box, and Sesostris pushed down the cover. Theluckless occupant had only a chance to push out a corner of his tunicthrough the slit to admit a little air, when Pratinas entered theroom. Agias longed to spring forth and throttle him, but such an actwould have been folly. 

The young Greek's prison was sufficiently cramped and stuffy; but fora moment Agias tried to persuade himself that he had only to wait withpatience until Pratinas should be gone, and no one would be the worse. An exclamation from the room without dispelled this comfortingillusion. 

"By Zeus!" cried Pratinas, "what is this? Whence came this new toga?"

Agias writhed in his confinement. In the plentitude of the glory ofhis newly acquired freedom, he had come abroad in an elegant new toga;but he had laid it on a chair when he entered the room. 

There was an awkward pause outside; then Pratinas burst out, "Youworthless Ethiopian, you, where did this toga come from? It hasn'twings or feet! How came it here? Who's been here? Speak, speak, youfool, or I will teach you a lesson!"

Agias gathered himself for a spring; for he expected to hear Sesostriswhimper out a confession, and see Pratinas's wickedly handsome facepeering into the chest. "He shan't cut my throat without a struggle!"was his vow. 

But, to his surprise, Sesostris answered with a tone of unlooked-forfirmness, "Master, I cannot tell you where the toga came from. "

The tone of Pratinas, in reply, indicated his passion. "Sheep! Dog!Have I had you all these years that you should need a thrashing forimpertinence! What rascal has been here to ogle at this wretchedgirl?" He might have thundered his commands to Artemisia, who wassobbing in evident distress; but his anger was concentrated onSesostris. "Will you not speak?"

"Master, " came the same firm reply, "I will not tell you, though youtake my life for refusing. "

What followed was, as Agias heard it, a volley of curses, blows, groans, and scuffling; then a heavy fall; an extremely fierceexecration from Pratinas, and a loud shrill scream from Artemisia, "OSesostris; dear Sesostris! He doesn't speak! He doesn't move! You'vekilled him!"

"And I will kill you too if you won't tell the truth!" thunderedPratinas, in an ungovernable passion. Agias heard a blow as of aclinched fist, and a low moan. It was enough. One spring, and theponderous cover flew back. The toga, the innocent cause of thecatastrophe, lay on the chair close at hand. Agias grasped the wholepicture in a twinkling: Sesostris lying beside a heavy wooden bench, with blood flowing from a great wound in his head which had struck infalling on a sharp corner; Artemisia crying in unspeakable dread on adivan; Pratinas, his face black as night, with uplifted hand preparedto strike a second time. Agias saw; and while he saw acted. Down overPratinas's head dashed the broad linen folds of the toga, and twomuscular arms drew it tight around the neck. Then began the struggle. Pratinas was of powerful physique, and resisted like a madman. Thecarpet was torn to shreds, the chairs shivered. But Agias, too, battled for grim life. He kept the hood over his opponent's eyes andnever gave Pratinas a glimpse of the identity of his assailant. And atlast a life of debauches and late dinners and unhealthy excitementbegan to tell against even so powerful a constitution as that ofPratinas. Tighter and tighter grew the pressure around his neck. Andnow Artemisia sprang up, and flew like a tiny tigress to her lover'sassistance, and caught at her tormentor's hands, tearing them with herwhite little teeth, and pulling the enveloping mantle closer andcloser. The contest could only have one end. Ere long, Pratinas waslying on the floor, bound hand and foot with strings of torn clothing, and his head still muffled in the toga. Agias, victorious, but withnot a whole rag on his back, rose from his contest. 

"Sesostris! help him!" cried Artemisia, trying in vain to get someresponse from the motionless form by the bench. Agias looked at theEthiop. The hard wood had struck the top of his skull, and death musthave been instantaneous. 

"He does not feel any pain, " explained the young Greek, who realizedthat this was no moment to indulge in emotions of any sort. "Now, Artemisia, you must hurry and put on a clean dress yourself; and giveme at least a new tunic, for I cannot show this on the streets. Putinto a basket all the bread you have, and some oil, and some olives, and some slices of salt fish. "

Artemisia disappeared in the next room. Agias returned to hisprisoner. Pratinas was coughing and twisting, and trying to ejaculateoaths. 

"My good sir, " said Agias, "I am not a bloodthirsty man, otherwise Iwould cut your throat, and so let you forget a predicament whichdoubtless embarrasses you not a little. But, since that is not to be, do not blame me if I arrange so that it will be unlikely that two suchcold friends as you and myself will ever meet again. First of all, that purse which is at your side, and which, by its weight, shows thatit contains a fair night's winnings, must go with me to speed me on myway. I have never stolen very much before. But I believe you, sir, arean Epicurean, who teach that pleasure is the highest good, and thatall things are the result of chance. Now, " and here he detached thepurse, and counted over a very considerable sum, "you will observethat Fortune has thrown this money in my way, and it is my pleasure totake it. Therefore I am fulfilling the highest good. And you, as aphilosopher, should be quite reconciled. "

Artemisia came back into the room, having completed the few simplepreparations. 

"Now, my excellent sir, " continued Agias, suiting his actions to hiswords, "I will stand you on your feet--so. I will push you, stillbound, into this closet--so. I will pile furniture against the door, so that, when you have worked clear of your bonds, as I imagine youwill in a few hours, even then you will not get out too quickly. Andnow, as your dear Roman friends say, _Vale!_ We are off!"

Artemisia flung herself on the form of Sesostris, and covered theblack, ugly face with kisses. 

"He's growing cold, " she lamented. "What is the matter? I can't leavehim this way!"

But Agias did not dare to admit the least delaying. 

"Dear Artemisia, " he said, "we can't do anything for Sesostris. I willexplain to you by and by about him. He is not feeling cold now at all. You must come at once with me. I will take you where Pratinas willnever touch you. "

III

If Agias had been a trifle more reckless he would have cut shortPratinas's thread of life then and there, and greatly diminished thechance of unpleasant consequences. But he had not sunk so low as that. Besides, he had already worked out in his versatile head a plan thatseemed practicable, albeit utterly audacious. Cornelia was at Baiæ. Cornelia owed him a great debt of gratitude for saving Drusus. Cornelia might harbour Artemisia as a new maid, if he could contriveto get his charge over the hundred long miles that lay between Romeand Baiæ. 

In the street he made Artemisia draw her mantle over her pretty face, and pressed through the crowds as fast as he could drag her onward. Quickly as he might he left the noisy Subura behind, and led on towardthe Palatine. At length he turned in toward a large house, and by anarrow alley reached a garden gate, and gained admission to the rear. By his confident movements he showed himself familiar with the spot. The dwelling, as a matter of fact, was that of Calatinus. 

As Agias pushed open the gate, and led Artemisia into a little gardenenclosed with a high stone wall, he surprised a dapper-appearing youngslave-lad of about his age, who was lying idly on the tiny grass plot, and indulging in a solitary game of backgammon. [129]

 [129] _Duodecim scripta_. 

"_Hem!_ Iasus, " was Agias's salutation, "can you do an old friend afavour?"

Iasus sprang to his feet, with eyes, nose, and mouth wide open. Heturned red, turned white, turned red once more. 

"_Phy!_" cried the other; "you aren't so silly as to take me for ashade from Hades? I've as much strength and muscle as you. "

"Agias!" blurted out Iasus, "are you alive? Really alive? They didn'tbeat you to death! I am so glad! You know--"

"_St!_" interrupted Agias. "You did, indeed, serve me an awkward tricksome time since; but who can blame you for wanting to save your ownskin. Pisander and Arsinoë and Semiramis have kept the secret that I'malive very well, for in some ways it shouldn't come to Valeria's ears. My story later. Where's her most noble ladyship?"

"The domina, " replied Iasus, with a sniff, "has just gone out on avisit to a friend who has a country-house near Fidenæ, up the Tiber. "

"Praise the gods! Far enough to be abroad for the day, and perhapsover night! This suits my purpose wonderfully. Is Pisander at home, and Arsinoë?"

"I will fetch them, " replied Iasus; and in a minute the philosopherand the waiting-maid were in the garden. 

A very few words explained to these two sympathetic souls the wholesituation. 

Artemisia shrank back at sight of Pisander. 

"I am afraid of that man. He wears a great beard like Pratinas, and Idon't love Pratinas any longer. "

"Oh, don't say that, my little swallow, " said the worthy man of books, looking very sheepish. "I should be sorry to think that your brighteyes were vexed to see me. "

"_Phui!_ Pisander, " laughed Arsinoë, "what have Zeno and Diogenes todo with 'bright eyes'?"

But for once Pisander's heart was wiser than his head, and he onlytossed Artemisia an enormous Persian peach, at which, when she sampledthe gift, she made peace at once, and forever after held Pisander inher toils as a devoted servant. 

But Agias was soon gone; and Artemisia spent the rest of the morningand the whole of the afternoon in that very satisfactory Elysium ofSyrian pears and honey-apples which Semiramis and Arsinoë supplied infull measure, with Pisander to sit by, and stare, boylike, at herclear, fair profile, and cast jealous glances at Iasus when that youngman ventured to utilize his opportunity for a like advantage. Many ofthe servants had gone with Valeria, and the others readily agreed topreserve secrecy in a matter in which their former fellow-slave andfavourite had so much at stake. So the day passed, and no one came todisturb her; and just as the shadows were falling Agias knocked at thegarden gate. 

"_St!_" were his words, "I have hired a gig which will carry us both. Pratinas is loose and has been raising heaven and earth to get at us. There is a crier going the rounds of the Forum offering a thousandsesterces for the return of Artemisia. Pratinas has gone before the_triumviri capitales_[130] and obtained from them an order on the_apparitores_[131] to track down the runaway and her abettor. "

 [130] One of their functions made these officers practically chiefs of police. 

 [131] A part of these public officers performed police duty. 

"_Eho!_" cried Pisander, "then you'd better leave your treasure hereawhile, for us to take care of. "

"Not at all, " replied Agias; "I could have taken her out of the cityat once, but in the daytime we should have been certainly noticed andsubsequently tracked. No one will imagine Artemisia is here--at leastfor a while. But this is a large familia; all may be my friends, butall may not have prudent tongues in their heads. The reward is large, and perhaps some will be tempted;" he glanced at Iasus, who, to do himjustice, had never thought of a second deed of baseness. "I cannotrisk that. No, Artemisia goes out of the city to-night, and she mustget ready without the least delay. "

Artemisia, who was charmed with her present surroundings andadulation, demurred at leaving her entertainers; but Agias wasimperative, and the others realized well enough that there was notmuch time to be lost. Agias, however, waited until it had becometolerably dark before starting. Meantime, he proceeded to make certainchanges of his own and Artemisia's costume that indicated the ratherserious character of the risk he was preparing to run. For himself heput on a very full and flowing crimson evening dress, as if he wereproceeding to a dinner-party; he piled a dozen odd rings upon hisfingers, and laughingly asked Semiramis to arrange his hair for him inthe most fashionable style, and anoint it heavily with Valeria's mostpungent perfumes. At the same time, Arsinoë was quite transformingArtemisia. Valeria's cosmetic vials were for once put into play for apurpose, and when Artemisia reappeared from the dressing-room afterher treatment, Agias saw before him no longer a fair-skinned littleGreek, but a small, slender, but certainly very handsome Egyptianserving-lad, with bronzed skin, conspicuous carmine lips, and featuresthat Arsinoë's paint and pencils had coarsened and exaggerated. Fortunately, the classic costume both for men and women was soessentially alike, that Artemisia did not have to undergo thatmortification from a change of clothes which might have befallen oneat the present day in a like predicament. Her not very long black hairwas loose, and shaken over her shoulders. Agias had brought for her ashort, variegated _lacerna_[132] which answered well enough as thehabit of a boy-valet who was on good terms with his master. 

 [132] A sort of mantle held on the shoulders by a clasp. 

"_Eho!_" cried Agias, when he had witnessed the transformation, "wemust hasten or Valeria will be anxious to keep you as her serving-boy!Ah, I forgot she is going with her dear Pratinas to Egypt. Now, Arsinoë, and you, Semiramis, I shall not forget the good turn you havedone me; don't let Valeria miss her unguents and ask questions thatmight prove disagreeable. Farewell, Iasus and Pisander; we shall soonmeet again, the gods willing. "

The friends took leave of Artemisia; the slave-women kissed her;Pisander, presuming on his age, kissed her, albeit very sheepishly, asthough he feared the ghosts of all the Stoics would see him. Iasuscast an angry jealous glance at the philosopher; he contented himselfwith a mere shake of the hand. 

Agias swung Artemisia into the gig and touched the lash to the swiftmules. 

"Good-by, dear friends!" she cried, her merry Greek smile shining outthrough her bronze disguise. 

The gig rolled down the street, Agias glancing to right and left tosee that no inquisitive eye followed them. 

"Oh! Agias, " cried the girl, "am I at last going away with you? Goingaway all alone, with only you to take care of me? I feel--I feelqueerly!"

Agias only touched the mules again, and laughed and squeezedArtemisia's hand, then more gravely said:--

"Now, makaira, you must do everything as I say, or we shall never getaway from Pratinas. Remember, if I tell you to do anything you must doit instantly; and, above everything else, no matter what happens, speak not a word; don't scream or cry or utter a sound. If anybodyquestions us I shall say that I am a gentleman driving out to thesuburbs to enjoy a late party at a friend's villa, and you are myvalet, who is a mute, whom it is useless to question because he cannotanswer. Do you understand?"

Artemisia nodded her little head, and bit her pretty lips very hard tokeep from speaking. The fear of Pratinas made her all obedience. 

It was after sundown, and driving was permitted in the city, thoughnearly all the teams that blocked Agias's way, as he drove down thecrowded streets to turn on to the Via Appia, were heavy wagons loadedwith timber and builders' stone. 

So far, all was safe enough; but Agias knew perfectly well thatPratinas was an awkward man to have for an enemy. The critical moment, however, was close at hand, and Agias called up all his wits to meetit. Under the damp arch of the ancient Porta Capena were pacingseveral men, whose lanterns and clinking sword-scabbards proclaimedthem to be members of the city constabulary. There was no possibilityof evading their scrutiny. No doubt any other gate was equally wellwatched. Agias drove straight ahead, as though he had seen nothing. 

"Hold!" and one of the constables was at the heads of the mules, andanother was waving a lantern up into the face of the occupants of thegig. 

"Rascals, " roared Agias, menacing with his whip, "are you highwaymengrown so impudent!"

"We have an order from the triumviri, " began one officer. 

"_Eho!_" replied Agias, settling back, as though relieved not to haveto fight for his purse, "I can't see what for; I owe nothing. I haveno suit pending. "

"We are to search all carriages and pedestrians, " recommenced theconstable, "to find if we may a certain Artemisia, a runawayslave-girl of the most noble Greek gentleman, Pratinas. "

"My good sirs, " interrupted Agias, "I am already like to be very lateat my dear friend Cimber's dinner party"--he mentioned the name ofthe owner of a very large villa not far down the road; "I have with meonly Midas, my mute valet. If you detain me any longer I shallcomplain--"

And here a denarius slipped into the hands of the officer with thelantern. 

"I think it's all right, Macer, " was his report to his comrade. Thelatter left the heads of the mules. 

"_Mehercle!_ how handsome some of those Egyptians grow!" commented thefirst constable. 

But the rest of his remarks were lost on Agias. He was whizzing downthe "Queen of Roads, " with a good team before him, Artemisia at hisside, and a happy consciousness that two excellent officials hadmissed a chance to earn one thousand sesterces. 

Hardly were they beyond earshot, when Artemisia burst out into anuncontrollable fit of giggling, which lasted a long time, only to berenewed and renewed, as often as a desperate effort seemed to havesuppressed it. Then she drew the robes of the carriage round her, laidher head on Agias's shoulder, and with a confidence in her protectorthat would have inspired him to go through fire and water for hersake, shook out her dark locks and fell fast asleep, despite the factthat the mules were running their fastest. Agias grasped the reinswith one hand, and with the other pressed tight the sleeping girl. Hewould not have exchanged his present position for all the wealth ofSardanapalus. 

 * * * * *

Five days later Agias was back in Rome. He had succeeded in reachingBaiæ, and introducing Artemisia into the familia of the villa of theLentuli, as a new waiting-maid from Rome sent by Claudia to herdaughter. For the present at least there was practically no chance ofPratinas recovering his lost property. And indeed, when Agias reachedRome once more, all fears in that direction were completely set atrest. The fashionable circle in which Claudia and Herennia wereenmeshed was in a flutter and a chatter over no ordinary scandal. Valeria, wife of Calatinus, and Pratinas, the "charming" Epicureanphilosopher, had both fled Rome two days before, and rumour had itthat they had embarked together at Ostia on a ship leaving direct forEgypt. Of course Calatinus was receiving all the sympathy, and was amuch abused man; and so the tongues ran on. 

To Agias this great event brought a considerable gain in peace ofmind, and some little loss. Valeria had taken with her her two maids, Agias's good friends, and also Iasus. Pisander ignominiously had beenleft behind. Calatinus had no use for the man of learning, and Agiaswas fain to take him before Drusus, who had returned from Ravenna, andinduce his patron to give Pisander sufficient capital to start afresha public school of philosophy, although the chances of acquiringopulence in that profession were sufficiently meagre. 

Chapter XIII

What Befell at Baiæ

I

Cornelia was at Baiæ, the famous watering-place, upon the classicNeapolitan bay, --which was the Brighton or Newport of the Roman. Herewas the haunt of the sybarites, whose gay barks skimmed the shallowwaters of the Lucrine lake; and not far off slumbered in its volcanichollow that other lake, Avernus, renowned in legend and poetry, through whose caverns, fable had it, lay the entrance to the world ofthe dead. The whole country about was one city of stately villas, ofcool groves, of bright gardens; a huge pleasure world, where freedomtoo often became license; where the dregs of the nectar cup too oftenmeant physical ruin and moral death. 

Cornelia had lost all desire to die now. She no longer thought ofsuicide. Lentulus's freedmen held her in close surveillance, but shewas very happy. Drusus lived, was safe, would do great things, wouldwin a name and a fame in the world of politics and arms. For herselfshe had but one ambition--to hear men say, "This woman is the wife ofthe great Quintus Drusus. " That would have been Elysium indeed. Cornelia, in fact, was building around her a world of sweet fantasy, that grew so real, so tangible, that the stern realities of life, realities that had hitherto worn out her very soul, became lessgalling. The reaction following the collapse of the plot againstDrusus had thrown her into an unnatural cheerfulness. For the time theone thought when she arose in the morning, the one thought when shefell asleep at night, was, "One day, " or "One night more is gone, ofthe time that severs me from Quintus. " It was a strained, an unhealthycheerfulness; but while it lasted it made all the world fair forCornelia. Indeed, she had no right--from one way of thinking--not toenjoy herself, unless it be that she had no congenial companions. Thevilla of the Lentuli was one of the newest and finest at Baiæ. Itrested on a sort of breakwater built out into the sea, so that thewaves actually beat against the embankment at the foot of Cornelia'schamber. The building rose in several stories, each smaller than theone below it, an ornamental cupola highest of all. On the successiveterraces were formally plotted, but luxuriant, gardens. Cornelia, fromher room in the second story, could command a broad vista of the bay. Puteoli was only two miles distant. Vesuvius was ten times as far; butthe eye swept clear down the verdant coast toward Surrentum to thesouthward. At her feet was the sea, --the Italian, Neapolitansea, --dancing, sparkling, dimpling from the first flush of morning tothe last glint of the fading western clouds at eve. The azure aboveglowed with living brightness, and by night the stars and planetsburned and twinkled down from a crystalline void, through which theunfettered soul might soar and soar, swimming onward through the sweetdarkness of the infinite. 

And there were pleasures enough for Cornelia if she would jointherein. Lentulus had ordered his freedmen not to deny her amusements;anything, in fact, that would divert her from her morbid infatuationfor Drusus. The consul-designate had indeed reached the conclusionthat his niece was suffering some serious mental derangement, or shewould not thus continue to pursue a profitless passion, obviouslyimpossible of fulfilment. So Cornelia had every chance to make herselfa centre to those gay pleasure-seekers who were still at Baiæ; for thesummer season was a little past, and all but confirmed or fashionableinvalids and professional vacationers were drifting back to Rome. Fora time all went merrily enough. Just sufficient of the LuciusAhenobarbus affair had come to the Baiæans to make Cornelia the objectof a great amount of curiosity. When she invited a select number ofthe pleasure-seekers to her dinner parties, she had the adulation andplaudits of every guest, and plenty of return favours. LuciusAhenobarbus soon had a score of hot rivals; and Cornelia's pretty facewas chipped on more than one admirer's seal ring. But presently itbegan to be said that the niece of the consul-designate was anextremely stoical and peculiar woman; she did not enjoy freedom whichthe very air of Baiæ seemed to render inevitable. She never lacked witand vivacity, but there was around her an air of restraint and coldmodesty that was admirable in every way--only it would never do inBaiæ. And so Cornelia, without ceasing to be admired, became lesscourted; and presently, quite tiring of the butterfly life, was thrownback more and more on herself and on her books. This did not disturbher. A levee or a banquet had never given her perfect pleasure; and itwas no delight to know that half the women of Baiæ hated her with aperfect jealousy. Cornelia read and studied, now Greek, now Latin; andsometimes caught herself half wishing to be a man and able to expounda cosmogony, or to decide the fate of empires by words flung down fromthe rostrum. Then finally Agias came bringing Artemisia, who, as hasbeen related, was introduced--by means of some little contriving--intothe familia as a new serving-maid. Such Artemisia was in name; butCornelia, whose gratitude to Agias had known no bounds, took thelittle thing into her heart, and determined to devote herself toinstructing an innocence that must not continue too long, despite itscharming naiveté. 

Thus the days had passed for Cornelia. But only a little while afterAgias left for Rome, --with a very large packet of letters forDrusus, --the pleasant, self-created world of fantasy, that had givenCornelia some portion of happiness, vanished. Like a clap of thunderfrom a cloudless sky Lucius Ahenobarbus suddenly arrived in Baiæ. Hewas tired of Rome, which was still very hot and uncomfortable. Heloathed politics, they were stupid. He had lost a boon companion whenPublius Gabinius was driven into outlawry. Marcus Læca was too deeplyin debt to give any more dinners. Pratinas was fled to Egypt. And sohe had come to Baiæ, to harass Cornelia by his presence; to gibe ather; and assure her that her uncle was more determined than ever thatshe should marry him--say and do what she might. 

Ahenobarbus quartered himself in the Lentulan villa as the prospectivenephew-in-law of its owner. He brought with him his customary train ofunderlings, and had travelled in appropriate state, in a litter witheight picked bearers, lolling on a cushion stuffed with rose-leaves, and covered with Maltese gauze, one garland on his head, another roundhis neck, and holding to his nose a smelling-bag of small-meshed linenfilled with roses. 

With all his effeminacy, he was beyond the least doubt desperatelydetermined to possess himself of Cornelia. His passion was purelyanimal and unrefined, but none could doubt it. Cornelia feared to havehim near her, and knew peace neither day nor night. He assumed all amaster's rights over the slaves and freedmen, sending them hither andyon to do his bidding. He had recovered from the fear Cornelia hadstruck into him, in her first defiance, and met her threats andhauteur with open scorn. 

"You are a most adorable actress!" was his constant sneer. And hisevery action told that he did not intend to let Cornelia play with hima second time. With all his profligacy and moral worthlessness, he hada tenacity of purpose and an energy in this matter that showed thateither Cornelia must in the end bow to his will, or their contestwould end in something very like a tragedy. 

And if a tragedy, so be it, was the desperate resolve of Cornelia;whose eyes were too stern for tears when she saw that Lucius was stillthe former creature of appetite; full of intrigue, sweethearts, seashore revels, carouses, singing, and music parties and waterexcursions with creatures of his choice from morning until midnight. She could not altogether shun him, though she successfully resistedhis half blandishments, half coercion, to make her join in his wildfrivolities. One revenge she found she could take on him--a revengethat she enjoyed because it proclaimed her own intellectualsuperiority, and made Ahenobarbus writhe with impotent vexation--shehad him at her mercy when they played at checkers;[133] and at lastLucius lost so much money and temper at this game of wit, not chance, that he would sulkily decline a challenge. But this was poorconsolation to Cornelia. The time was drifting on. Before many daysLentulus Crus and Caius Clodius Marcellus would be consuls, and theanti-Cæsarians would be ready to work their great opponent's undoing, or be themselves forever undone. Where was Drusus? What was he doing?What part would he play in the struggle, perhaps of arms, about tobegin? O for one sight of him, for one word! And the hunger inCornelia's breast grew and grew. 

 [133] _Latrunculi_. 

Many are our wishes. Some flit through our hearts like birds dartingunder the foliage of trees, then out again, lost in the sunshine;others linger awhile and we nestle them in our bosoms until we forgetthat they are there, and the noble desire, the craving for somethingdear, for something that bears for us as it were a divine image, isgone--we are the poorer that we no longer wish to wish it. But somethings there are--some things too high or too deep for speech, toosecret for really conscious thought, too holy to call from theinnermost shrines of the heart; and there they linger and hover, demanding to be satisfied, and until they are satisfied there is voidand dreariness within, be the sunshine never so bright without. And soCornelia was a-hungered. She could fight against herself to saveDrusus's life no longer; she could build around herself her dreamcastles no more; she must see him face to face, must hold his hand inhers, must feel his breath on her cheek. 

Is it but a tale that is told, that soul can communicate to distantsoul? That through two sundered hearts without visible communicationcan spring up, unforewarned, a single desire, a single purpose? Isthere no magnetism subtle beyond all thought, that bounds from spiritto spirit, defying every bond, every space? We may not say; but ifCornelia longed, she longed not utterly in vain. One morning, as shewas dressing, Cassandra, who was moving around the room aiding hermistress, let fall a very tiny slip of papyrus into Cornelia's lap, and with it a whisper, "Don't look; but keep it carefully. " Theinjunction was needed, for several other serving-women were in theroom, and Cornelia more than suspected that they were ready to spy onher to prevent unauthorized correspondence with Drusus. When she wasdressed, and could walk alone on the terrace overlooking the sea, sheunrolled the papyrus and read:--

"Delectissima, I have come from Rome to Puteoli. I cannot live longerwithout seeing you. Great things are stirring, and it may well be thatere long, if your uncle and his friends have their way, I may be aproscribed fugitive from Italy, or a dead man. But I must talk withyour dear self first. Agias was known by the familia, and had nodifficulty in seeing you quietly; but I have no such facility. Icannot remain long. Plan how we may meet and not be interrupted. Ihave taken Cassandra into my pay, and believe that she can be trusted. _Vale_. "

There was no name of the sender; but Cornelia did not need toquestion. Cassandra, who evidently knew that her mistress wouldrequire her services, came carelessly strolling out on to the terrace. 

"Cassandra, " said Cornelia, "the last time I saw Quintus, you betrayedus to my uncle; will you be more faithful now?"

The woman hung down her head. 

"_A!_ domina, your uncle threatened me terribly. I did notintentionally betray you! Did I not receive my beating? And thenMaster Drusus is such a handsome and generous young gentleman. "

"I can rely on you alone, " replied Cornelia. "You must arrangeeverything. If you are untrue, be sure that it is not I who will inthe end punish, but Master Drusus, whose memory is long. You have moreschemes than I, now that Agias is not here to devise for me. You mustmake up any stories that are necessary to save us from interruption, and see that no one discovers anything or grows suspicious. My handsare tied. I cannot see to plan. I will go to the library, and leaveeverything to you. "

And with this stoical resolve to bear with equanimity whatever theFates flung in her way for good or ill, Cornelia tried to bury herselfin her Lucretius. Vain resolution! What care for the atomic theorywhen in a day, an hour, a moment, she might be straining to her heartanother heart that was reaching out toward hers, as hers did towardit. It was useless to read; useless to try to admire the varyingshades of blue on the sea, tones of green, and tones of deep cerulean, deepening and deepening, as her eye drifted off toward the horizon, like the blendings of a chromatic series. And so Cornelia passed themorning in a mood of joyful discontent. Lucius Ahenobarbus, who cameto have his usual passage of arms with her, found her so extremelyaffable, yet half-preoccupied, that he was puzzled, yet on the wholedelighted. "She must be yielding, " he mentally commented; and whenthey played at draughts, Cornelia actually allowed herself to bebeaten. Ahenobarbus started off for Puteoli in an excellent humour. His litter had barely swung down the road from the villa beforeCassandra was knocking at her mistress's chamber door. 

"_Io!_ domina, " was her joyful exclamation, "I think I have got everyeavesdropper out of the way. Ahenobarbus is off for Puteoli. I havecooked up a story to keep the freedmen and other busybodies off. Youhave a desperate headache, and cannot leave the room, nor see any one. But remember the terrace over the water, where the colonnade shuts itin on all sides but toward the sea. This afternoon, if a boat with twostrange-looking fishermen passes under the embankment, don't besurprised. "

And having imparted this precious bit of information, the woman wasoff. Drusus's gold pieces had made her the most successful ofschemers. 

II

Cornelia feigned her headache, and succeeded in making herself sothoroughly petulant and exacting to all her maids, that when sheordered them out of the room, and told them on no account to disturbher in any respect for the rest of the day, they "rejoiced withtrembling, " and had no anxiety to thrust their attentions upon sounreasonable a mistress. And a little while later a visit of astrolling juggler--whose call had perhaps been prompted byCassandra--made their respite from duty doubly welcome. 

Cornelia was left to herself, and spent the next hour in a division oflabour before her silver wall-mirror, dressing--something which wassufficiently troublesome for her, accustomed to the services of a bevyof maids--and at the window, gazing toward Puteoli for thefishing-boat that seemed never in sight. At last the toilet wascompleted to her satisfaction. Cornelia surveyed herself in her bestsilken purple flounced stola, thrust the last pin into her hair, andconfined it all in a net of golden thread. Roman maidens were not as arule taught to be modest about their charms, and Cornelia, withperfect frankness, said aloud to herself, "You are so beautiful thatDrusus can't help loving you;" and with this candid confession, shewas again on the terrace, straining her eyes toward Puteoli. Boatscame, boats went, but there was none that approached the villa; andCornelia began to harbour dark thoughts against Cassandra. 

"If the wretched woman had played false to her mistress again--" butthe threat was never formulated. There was a chink and click of a pairof oars moving on their thole-pins. For an instant a skiff was visibleat the foot of the embankment; two occupants were in it. The boatdisappeared under the friendly cover of the protecting sea-wall of thelower terrace. There was a little landing-place here, with a few stepsleading upward, where now and then a yacht was moored. The embankmentshut off this tiny wharf from view on either side. Cornelia dared notleave the upper terrace. Her heart beat faster and faster. Below sheheard the slap, slap, of the waves on the sea-wall, and a rattle ofrings and ropes as some skiff was being made fast. An instant more andDrusus was coming, with quick, athletic bounds, up the stairway to thesecond terrace. It was he! she saw him! In her eyes he was everythingin physique and virile beauty that a maiden of the Republic coulddesire! The bitterness and waiting of months were worth theblessedness of the instant. Cornelia never knew what Drusus said toher, or what she said to him. She only knew that he was holding her inhis strong arms and gazing into her eyes; while the hearts of bothtalked to one another so fast that they had neither time nor need forwords. They were happy, happy! Long it was before their utterancepassed beyond the merest words of endearment; longer still before theywere composed enough for Cornelia to listen to Drusus while he gavehis own account of Mamercus's heroic resistance to Dumnorix's gang atPræneste; and told of his own visit to Ravenna, of his intenseadmiration for the proconsul of the two Gauls; and of how he had cometo Puteoli and opened communications with Cassandra, through Cappadox, the trusty body-servant who in the guise of a fisherman was waiting inthe boat below. 

"And as Homer puts it, so with us, " cried Cornelia, at length: "'Andso the pair had joy in happy love, and joyed in talking too, and eachrelating; she, the royal lady, what she had endured at home, watchingthe wasteful throng of suitors; and he, high-born Odysseus, whatmiseries he brought on other men, and bore himself in anguish;--all hetold, and she was glad to hear. '"

So laughed Cornelia when all their stories were finished, likeningtheir reunion to that of the son of Laërtes and the long-faithfulPenelope. 

"How long were Penelope and Odysseus asunder?" quoth Drusus. 

"Twenty years. "

"_Vah!_ We have not been sundered twenty months or one-third as many. How shall we make the time fly more rapidly?"

"I know not, " said Cornelia, for the first time looking down andsighing, "a lifetime seems very long; but lifetimes will pass. I shallbe an old woman in a few years; and my hair will be all grey, and youwon't love me. "

"_Eho_, " cried Drusus, "do you think I love you for your hair?"

"I don't know, " replied Cornelia, shaking her head, "I am afraid so. What is there in me more than any other woman that you should love;except--" and here she raised her face half-seriously, half inplay--"I am very beautiful? Ah! if I were a man, I would havesomething else to be loved for; I would have eloquence, or strength, or power of command, or wisdom in philosophy. But no, I can be lovedfor only two things; an ignoble or a poor man would take me if I werehideous as Atropos, for I am noble, and, if my uncle were an honestguardian, rich. But you need not regard these at all, so--" and shebrushed her face across Drusus's cheek, touching it with her hair. 

"O Cornelia, " cried the young man, out of the fulness of his heart, "we must not waste this precious time asking why we love each other. Love each other we do as long as we view the sun. O carissima! wecannot trust ourselves to look too deeply into the whys and whereforesof things. We men and women are so ignorant! We know nothing. What isall our philosophy--words! What is all our state religion--empty form!What is all our life--a dream, mostly evil, that comes out of theeternal unconscious sleep and into that unconscious sleep will return!And yet not all a dream; for when I feel your hands in mine I knowthat I am not dreaming--for dreamers feel nothing so delicious asthis! Not long ago I recalled what old Artabanus said to King Xerxeswhen the millions of Persia passed in review before their lord atAbydos, 'Short as our time is, death, through the wretchedness of ourlife, is the most sweet refuge of our race; and God, who gives ustastes that we enjoy of pleasant times, is seen, in His very gift, tobe envious. ' And I thought, 'How wise was the Persian!' And then Ithought, 'No, though to live were to drag one's days in torture and inwoe, if only love come once into life, an eternity of misery isendurable; yes, to be chained forever, as Prometheus, on drearestmountain crag, if only the fire which is stolen be that which kindlessoul by soul. '"

"Ah!" cried Cornelia, "if only these were to be real souls! But whatcan we say? See my Lucretius here; read: 'I have shown the soul to beformed fine and to be of minute bodies and made up of much smallerfirst-beginnings than the liquid air, or mist, or smoke. As you seewater, when the vessels are shattered, flow away on every side, and asmist and smoke vanish away into the air, believe that the soul, too, is shed abroad, and perishes much more quickly and dissolves soonerinto its first bodies, when once it has been taken out of the limbs ofa man and has withdrawn. ' O Quintus, is the thing within me that lovesyou lighter, more fragile, than smoke? Shall I blow away, and vanishinto nothingness? It is that which affrights me!"

And Drusus tried as best he might to comfort her, telling her therewas no danger that she or he would be dissipated speedily, and thatshe must not fret her dear head with things that set the sagestgreybeards a-wrangling. Then he told her about the political world, and how in a month at most either every cloud would have cleared away, and Lentulus be in no position to resist the legal claims which Drusushad on the hand of his niece; or, if war came, if fortune but favouredCæsar, Cornelia's waiting for deliverance would not be for long. Drusus did not dwell on the alternative presented if civic strife cameto arms; he only knew that, come what might, Cornelia could never bedriven to become the bride of Lucius Ahenobarbus; and he had no needto exact a new pledge of her faithful devotion. 

So at last, like everything terrestrial that is sweet and lovely, theslowly advancing afternoon warned Drusus that for this day, at least, they must separate. 

"I will come again to-morrow, or the next day, if Cassandra can soarrange, " said he, tearing himself away. "But part to-night we must, nor will it make amends to imitate Carbo, who, when he was being ledto execution, was suddenly seized with a pain in the stomach, andbegged not to be beheaded until he should feel a little better. "

He kissed her, strained her to his breast, and stepped toward thelanding-place. Cappadox had taken the boat out from the moorings tominimize a chance of discovery by some one in the house. Drusus wasjust turning for a last embrace, when many voices and the plash ofoars sounded below. Cornelia staggered with dread. 

"It's Ahenobarbus, " she gasped, in a deathly whisper; "he sometimescomes back from Puteoli by boat. He will murder you when he finds youhere!"

"Can't I escape through the house?"

The words, however, were no sooner out of Drusus's mouth, than LuciusAhenobarbus, dressed in the most fashionably cut scarlet lacerna, perfumed and coiffured to a nicety, appeared on the terrace. Some evilgenius had led him straight up without the least delay. 

It was the first time that the two enemies had met face to face sinceDrusus had declined the invitation to Marcus Læca's supper. Be it saidto Lucius's credit that he sensed the situation with only the minimumof confusion, and instantly realized all of Cornelia's worst fears. Drusus had drawn back from the steps to the lower terrace, and stoodwith stern brow and knotted fist, trapped by a blunder that couldhardly have been guarded against, no submissive victim to what fatehad in store. Cornelia, for once quite distraught with terror, coweredon a bench, unable to scream through sheer fright. 

"_Salve!_ amice, " was the satirical salutation of Ahenobarbus. "Howexcellently well met. _Heus!_ Phaon, bring your boatmen, quick! Not aninstant to lose!"

"Pity! mercy!" gasped Cornelia, "I will do anything for you, but sparehim;" and she made as if to fall on her knees before Ahenobarbus. 

"Girl!" Drusus had never spoken in that way to her before; his toneswere cold as ice. "Go into the house! Your place is not here. IfLucius Ahenobarbus intends to murder me--"

The boatmen and two or three other slaves that were always atAhenobarbus's heels were crowding up on to the terrace ready to dotheir master's bidding. 

"Throw me that fellow over the balcony, " ordered Lucius, his sense oftriumph and opportunity mastering every fear that Flaccus wouldexecute his threat of prosecution. "See that he does not float!"

Cornelia found her voice. She screamed, screamed shrilly, and ran intothe house. Already the familia was alarmed. Two or three freedmen ofLentulus were rushing toward the terrace. They were murdering Quintus!He was resisting, resisting with all the powers of a wild animaldriven to its last lair. Outside, on the terrace, where but an instantbefore she and her lover were cooing in delicious ecstasy, there wereoaths, blows, and the sharp pants and howls of mortal struggle. Andshe could do nothing--nothing! And it was through his love for herthat Drusus was to go down to his untimely grave! The seconds ofstruggle and anguish moved on leaden feet. Every breath was agony, every sound maddening. And she could do nothing--nothing. Still theywere fighting. Phaon--she knew his voice--was crying out as if ingrievous pain. And now the voice of Lucius Ahenobarbus sounded again:"One thousand denarii if you fling him into the sea!" and she could donothing--nothing! She tore down the purple tapestries around her bed, and dashed from its tripod a costly bowl of opal Alexandrianglass--all in the mere rage of impotence. And still they werefighting. What was that ornament hanging on the wall, half hid behindthe torn tapestry? A scabbard--a sword, some relic of ancient wars!And all the combatants were unarmed! The antique weapon was held bystout thongs to the wall; she plucked it from its fastenings with thestrength of a Titaness. The rusty blade resisted an instant; shedragged it forth. Then out on to the terrace. Really only a moment hadelapsed since she left it. One of the slaves was lying dead, orstunned, prone on the turf. Phaon was writhing and howling beside him, nursing a broken jaw. The other assailants had sunk back in temporaryrepulse and were preparing for a second rush. Drusus was stillstanding. He half leaned upon the stone pedestal of an heroic-sizedAthena, who seemed to be spreading her protecting ægis above him. Hisgarments were rent to the veriest shreds. His features were hiddenbehind streaming blood, his arms and neck were bruised and bleeding;but clearly his adversaries could not yet congratulate themselves thatthe lion's strength was too sapped to be no longer dreaded. 

"Come, you, " was his hot challenge to Lucius Ahenobarbus, who stood, half delighted, half afraid, shivering and laughing spasmodically, ashe surveyed the struggle from a safe distance. "Come, you, and haveyour share in the villany!"

And again, for it was all the affair of the veriest moment, the slavesrushed once more on their indocile victim. "Freedom to the man whopulls him down!" was the incentive of Ahenobarbus. 

But again Drusus, who, to tell the truth, had to contend with only theflabby, soft-handed, unskilful underlings of Lucius, struck out sofuriously that another of his attackers fell backward with a groan anda gasp. All this Cornelia saw while, sword in hand, she flew towardthe knot of writhing men. She pushed aside the slaves by sheer force. She asked no civilities, received none. 

"Pull her away!" shouted Lucius, and started himself to accomplish hispurpose. A rude hand smote her in the face; she staggered, fell; butas she fell a hand snatched the sword out of her grasp. She releasedher hold gladly, for did she not know that hand? When she rose to herfeet there were shrieks of fear and pain on every side. The slaveswere cringing in dread before him. Drusus was standing under theAthena, with the keen steel in his hand--its blade dyed crimson; andat his feet lay Ahenobarbus's favourite valet--the wretch literallydisembowelled by one deadly stroke. 

"Fly, fly!" she implored; "they will bring arms! They will never letyou escape. "

"I'll pay you for letting him kill Croesus, " howled Lucius, facinghimself resolutely toward his enemy. "How can he fly when the house isfull of servants, and his boat is away from the landing? You giveyourself trouble for no purpose, my lady! Lentulus's people will behere with swords in a moment!"

But as he spoke a blow of some unseen giant dashed him prostrate, andupon the terrace from below came Cappadox, foaming with anxious rage, his brow blacker than night, his brawny arms swinging a heavy paddlewith which he clubbed the cowering slaves right and left. 

"Have they killed him! Have the gods spared him!" These two demandscame bounding in a breath from the honest servant's lips. And when hesaw Drusus, bleeding, but still standing, he rushed forward to flinghis arms about his master's neck. 

"Fly! fly!" urged Cornelia, and out of the building, armed now withswords and staves, came flocking the freedmen of the house and as manyslaves as they could muster. 

"_Salve!_ carissima, " and Drusus, who never at the instant gavethought to the blood all over him, pressed her in one last kiss. Hegained the terrace steps by a single bound ahead of his armedattackers. Cappadox smote down the foremost freedman with a buffet ofthe oar. Ahenobarbus staggered to his feet as Drusus sprang over him, and the latter tore a packet of tablets from his hand, never stoppingin his own flight. 

Then down on to the little landing-place pursuers and pursued tumbled. The large six-oared boat of Ahenobarbus was moored close besideCappadox's skiff. 

Drusus was into the skiff and casting loose before Lucius coulddescend from the upper terrace. The young Domitian was in a terribledistress. 

"The letters! The letters! Freedom to you all if you save them! Castoff! Chase! Sink the skiff!"

But before any of the unskilful assailants could execute the order, Cappadox had driven the butt of his paddle clean through the bottomplanking of the larger boat, and she was filling rapidly. The paddleshivered, but it was madness to embark on the stoven craft. 

The skiff shot away from the landing as though an intelligent soul, rising equal to the needs of the crisis. The blue dancing water lappedbetween her gunwale and the shore. Drusus stood erect in the boat, brushed back the blood that was still streaming over his eyes, andlooked landward. The slaves and freedmen were still on the landing, gazing blankly after their escaped prey. Ahenobarbus was pouring outupon their inefficiency a torrent of wrathful malediction, thatpromised employment for the "whipper" for some time to come. ButDrusus gave heed to none of these things. Standing on the upperterrace, her hair now dishevelled and blowing in tresses upon thewind, was Cornelia, and on her all her lover's gaze was fixed. 

"Safe?" and the melodious shout drifted out over the widening stretchof water. 

"Safe! to live and to love!" And Drusus thought, with his keen lover'seye, he could see the dimming face brighten, and the hands go up in agesture of thanksgiving. 

It was all that was said. Another boat might be procured at any timeby Lucius Ahenobarbus; and with only one paddle Cappadox could makebut slow headway. Stiff and bruised, the young man flung himself onthe bottom of the skiff, and panted and nursed himself after hismortal struggle. Now that the combat was over he felt weak and soreenough, and was quite content to let Cappadox adjust such improvisedbandages as were available, and scull him toward Puteoli. Fortunatelynone of the bruises was caused by any harder weapons than fists, and, though his body was black and blue, he had sustained no serious hurt. And so he rested his head on a wrap, and closed his eyes, and calledup before his mind the vision of Cornelia. How beautiful she had beenwhen he met her! How much more beautiful when she thrust her waythrough the fighting slaves and put the sword in his hand, at thatmoment of mortal combat, which he expected to be his last! Did he onlylove her because her face was sweet, her voice was sweet, and thetouch of her hair was sweet? Happy was he, her lover;--he could say"no, " and have never a fear that his sincerity would be tested. AndLucius Ahenobarbus? He hated him with a perfect hatred. A Roman whowas no Roman! A womanish man whom every true woman must despise! Aserpent who had not even the bright scales of a serpent! What would hedo to Cornelia? Drusus's face grew hard. Had he, Drusus, yet done anyinjury worth mentioning to his enemy? Why had he not used the momentwhen Lucius lay prostrate, and run the sword through his body?Ill-timed, thoughtless mercy! But the letters, the packet he hadwrenched from Ahenobarbus's hand? Why was it so precious? Drusus hadflung it into the boat. He took up the packet. Doubtless some_billet-doux_. Why should he degrade his mind by giving an instant'sthought to any of his enemy's foul intrigues? He could only open hiseyes with difficulty, but a curiosity that did not add to hisself-esteem overmastered him. The seal! Could he believe hissenses--the imprint of three trophies of victory? It was the seal ofPompeius! The instinct of the partisan and politician conquered everyinfirmity. He broke the wax, untied the thread, and opened. Theletters were in cipher, and at first sight illegible. But this did notpresent any insuperable difficulty. Most classic ciphers weresufficiently simple to be solved without very much trouble. Drususknew that in all Cæsar's correspondence a cipher had been used whichconsisted merely of substituting for each letter the fourth letterbeyond it, as D for A; and a little examination showed that thepresent cryptogram was made on the same rude method. After a fewguesses he struck the proper substitutions, and was able to read. 

"Pompeius Magnus, Imperator, to the most excellent Lucius DomitiusAhenobarbus, Rome, tenth day before the Calends of January. If it iswell with you, it is well; I am well. [134] I write to warn you that weare told that Quintus Drusus, your personal enemy and the friend ofour own foes, is in Campania. We need not add more, for we trust toyou to see to it that he stirs up no faction in favour of his masterin those parts. Be assured that you will not be long troubled by thisenemy. He is marked out as one of the earliest of those to pay withtheir lives for their conspiracy against the Republic. If possible seethat Drusus is seized for some alleged offence, and lodged in prisonuntil the new consuls come into office. After that time he can worklittle or no mischief. Use the uttermost endeavours in this matter;check him and his schemes at all hazards. I trust your energy andprudence, which your father and Lentulus Crus assure me will not fail. _Vale!_"

 [134] _Si vales bene est ego valeo_, written commonly simply S. V. B. E. E. V. 

Drusus lay back in the bottom of the boat, and looked up into the bluedome. It was the same azure as ever, but a strange feeling ofdisenchantment seemed to have come over him. For the first time herealized the deadly stakes for which he and his party were playingtheir game. What fate had been treasured up for him in the impendingchaos of civil war? If he perished in battle or by the executioner'saxe, what awaited Cornelia? But he had chosen his road; he wouldfollow it to the end. The battle spirit mounted in him. 

The sky was darkening when the boat drew up to one of the busy quaysof Puteoli. Stars had begun to twinkle. Cappadox aided his bruised andstiffened master to disembark. 

"To-night rest, " cried Drusus, forgetting all his wounds. "To-morrowaway to Rome. And at Rome--the war of the Gods and the Giants!"

Chapter XIV

The New Consuls

I

It had come--the great crisis that by crooked ways or straight was toset right all the follies and crimes of many a generation. On theCalends of January Lentulus Crus and Caius Clodius Marcellus wereinaugurated consuls. In solemn procession with Senate, priesthoods, and people, they had gone up to the Capitol and sacrificed chosenwhite steers to Jupiter, "Best and Greatest, "[135] and invoked hisblessing upon the Roman State. And so began the last consulship of theFree Republic. 

 [135] _Optimus maximus_. 

Rome was in a ferment. All knew the intention of the consuls to movethe recall of Cæsar from his government. All knew that Curio hadbrought a letter from Ravenna, the contents whereof he carefullyguarded. That same afternoon the consuls convened the Senate in theTemple of Capitoline Jove, and every man knew to what purpose. AllRome swept in the direction of the Capitol. Drusus accompanied hisfriend, the tribune Antonius, as the latter's viator, for there wasneed of a trusty guard. 

The excitement in the streets ran even higher than when Catilina'sgreat plot was exposed. The streets were jammed with crowds, --not ofthe idle and base born, but of equites and noble ladies, and youngpatricians not old enough to step into their fathers' places. Theywere howling and cheering for Pompeius and Lentulus, and cursing theabsent proconsul. As Drusus passed along at the side of Antonius, hecould not fail to hear the execrations and vile epithets flung fromevery side at him and his friend. He had always supposed the masseswere on Cæsar's side, but now every man's hand seemed turned againstthe conqueror of the Gauls. Was there to be but a repetition of thesame old tragedy of the Gracchi and of Marcus Drusus? A brave manstanding out for the people, and the people deserting him in his hourof need?

They reached the Temple. The Senate was already nearly ready forbusiness; every toothless consular who had been in public service forperquisites only, and who for years had been wasting his life enjoyingthe pickings of an unfortunate province--all such were in their seatson the front row of benches. Behind them were the _prætorii_ and the_ædilicii, _[136] a full session of that great body which had matchedits tireless wisdom and tenacity against Pyrrhus, Hannibal, andAntiochus the Great, and been victorious. Drusus ran his eye over theseats. There they sat, even in the midst of the general excitement, abody of calm, dignified elders, severe and immaculate in their longwhite togas and purple-edged tunics. The multitudes without werehowling and jeering; within the temple, reigned silence--the silencethat gathered about the most august and powerful assembly the worldhas ever seen. 

 [136] Ex-prætors and ex-ædiles. 

The Temple was built of cool, grey stone; the assembly hall was quiteapart from the shrine. The Senate had convened in a spacioussemicircular vaulted chamber, cut off from the vulgar world by a rowof close, low Doric columns. From the shade of these pillars one couldcommand a sweeping view of the Forum, packed with a turbulentmultitude. Drusus stood on the Temple steps and looked out and in. Without, confusion; within, order; without, a leaderless mob; within, an assembly almost every member of which had been invested with somehigh command. For a moment the young man revived courage; after all, the Roman Senate was left as a bulwark against passion and popularwrath; and for the time being, as he looked on those motionless, venerable faces, his confidence in this court of final appeal wasrestored. Then he began to scan the features of the consulars, and hisheart sank. There was Lucius Calpurnius Piso, with the visage of aphilosopher, but within mere moral turpitude. There was Favonius;there were the two sanguinary Marcelli, consuls respectively for thetwo preceding years; there was Domitius; there was Cato, his hard faceillumined doubtless by the near realization of unholy hopes; there wasFaustus Sulla, another bitter oligarch. Drusus saw them all, and knewthat the Cæsarian cause had been doomed without a hearing. CaiusMarcellus, the new consul, sat in his separate seat, in all thesplendid dignity of his embroidered toga. Around him stood his twelvelictors. But Lentulus, at whose behest the Senate had been convened, and who was to act as its president, had not come. Drusus followedAntonius over to the farther side of the house, where on a long, lowbench[137] the other tribunes of the plebs were seated. QuintusCassius was already there. The other tribunes darted angry glances attheir newly arrived colleague. Drusus remained standing behindAntonius, ready to act as a body-guard, as much as to serve in mereofficial capacity. Even as they entered he had noticed a buzz andrustle pass along the tiers of seats, and whisper pass on whisper, "There come the Cæsarians!" "What treason is in that letter!" "We musthave an end of their impudence!" And Drusus ran his eye over the wholecompany, and sought for one friendly look; but he met with only stonyglances or dark frowns. There was justice neither in the people nor inthe Senate. Their hearts were drunk with a sense of revenge andself-willed passion; and Justice literally weighed out her bounty withblinded eyes. 

 [137] _Subsellium_. 

There was another hum and rustle. And into the hall swept LentulusCrus, in robes of office, with Scipio, the father-in-law of Pompeius, at his side. Before him strode his twelve lictors bearing their fasceserect. Not a word was spoken while Lentulus Crus seated himself in theivory curule chair of office. No sign marked the extreme gravity ofthe occasion. 

"Let the sacred chickens be brought, " said Lentulus. 

Never a lip twitched or curled in all that august multitude whileseveral public attendants brought in a wooden cage containing three orfour rather skinny specimens of poultry. Not even Drusus saw anythingreally ridiculous when Lentulus arose, took grain from an attendant, and scattered a quantity of it before the coop. Close at his elbowstood the augur, to interpret the omen, --a weazened, bald-headed oldsenator, who wore a purple-striped tunic, [138] and carried in his handa long stick, [139] curved at its head into a spiral. Drusus knewperfectly well that the fowls had been kept without food all that day;but it would have seemed treason to all the traditions of his nativeland to cry out against this pompous farce. The hungry chickens peckedup the grain. The augur muttered formula after formula, and Lentulustook pains to repeat the meaningless jargon after him. Presently theaugur ceased his chatter and nodded to the consul. Lentulus turnedtoward the Senate. 

 [138] _Trabea_. 

 [139] _Lituus_. 

"There is no evil sight or sound!"[140] was his announcement, meaningthat business could be transacted. 

 [140] _Silentium esse videtur_. 

Whereupon up from his seat sprang Marcus Antonius, flourishing in hishand a packet. Loudly Lentulus bade him hold his peace; loudly thetribunes who sided with the Senate party forbade him to read. But arustle and stir of eager curiosity ran along all the benches, andfirst one voice, then many, cried out that the letter must be madepublic. With very ill grace the consul declared that Antonius shouldbe allowed to read the communication from Cæsar. 

Antonius read, and all were astonished at the moderation of themuch-maligned proconsul. Cæsar made it clear that he would stand onhis rights as to the second consulship; but to withdraw possibilitiesof seeming to issue a threat, he would disband his entire army ifPompeius would only do the same, or, if preferred, he would retainsimply Cisalpine Gaul and Illyria with two legions, until the consularelections were over. In either event it would be out of his power tomenace the constitution, and the public tranquillity would remainquite undisturbed. 

But before the murmur of approbation at this unexpected docility woreaway, Lentulus burst forth into a fiery invective. All knew why theSenate had been convened, nor would he allow a few smooth promises tobring the state into danger. The law provided that a proconsul shouldleave his province at a certain time; and if Cæsar thought that aspecial law exempted him from this requirement, it were well he weredisabused of the notion. The Senate had been convened because thepresiding consul felt that the continuance of Cæsar in hisgovernorship was a menace to the safety of the Republic. Let theConscript Fathers express themselves boldly, and he, Lentulus, wouldnot desert them; let them waver and try to court the favour of Cæsaras in former times, and the consul would have to look to his ownsafety--and he could make his own terms with Cæsar. 

Lentulus had started out with studied moderation. His harangue endedwith a stinging menace. A low mutter, difficult to interpret, ranthrough the Senate. Again Antonius leaped to his feet. 

"Conscript Fathers, will you not consider the mild offers of Cæsar? Donot reject them without debate. "

"I ask the opinion of the Senate on my own proposition, " broke inLentulus. "Metellus Scipio, declare what is your judgment. "

"I protest at this unseemly haste, " cried Antonius; "let us considerthe letter first!"

"And I protest against this boisterous and unlawful interruption, "retorted the consul, fiercely. "Rise, Metellus Scipio!"

Antonius flushed with rage, but sank into his seat. Drusus leaned overhis friend's shoulder and whispered "Veto. " Antonius shook his head. 

"They must speak. We should be foolish to shoot away our best arrowbefore the battle had really begun. "

Scipio arose. He was not the "chief senator, "[141] usually entitled tospeak first; but everybody knew that his words were the mereexpressions of his son-in-law, the mighty Pompeius. His oratory andphysical presence were wretched, but all the Senate hung upon hiswords. 

 [141] _Princeps senatus_. 

"Pompeius did not intend to abandon the Republic, if the Senate wouldsupport him; but let them act with energy, for otherwise in the futurethey might need his aid never so much, and yet implore it in vain. "

"You want to destroy the Republic!" cried Quintus Cassius, halfleaping from his seat. 

"We want to destroy _you_!" retorted Domitius, savagely. 

But all men were not so blinded by fury, hate, and greed of power andrevenge. To the dismay of his party Caius Marcellus, the secondconsul, counselled a certain kind of moderation. There was no lovelost by the noble "Optimates" upon Pompeius, and Marcellus hinted thisplainly when he said that all Italy must be put under arms, and withsuch an army at the disposal of the Senate, it could act as it sawfit, --to get rid of a troublesome protector, he implied, no less thanan open enemy. And close after him followed Marcus Calidius and MarcusRufus, two senators, who had at least the sagacity to perceive that itwould not free the Commonwealth to crush Cæsar, by flinging themselvesinto the arms of Pompeius. "Let Pompeius go off to his Spanishprovince, to which he was accredited proconsul; it was but naturalCæsar should think himself ill treated, seeing that two legions hadbeen taken from him for Eastern service, and Pompeius was keepingthese very troops close to Rome. "

For one moment it seemed to Drusus that wisdom and justice had notdeserted the Senate of his native state. The consuls were divided; twoinfluential men were counselling moderation. Surely the Senate wouldnot push to extremities. But he had not reckoned on the spell whichthe malevolent spirit of Lentulus had cast over the assembly. Inbitter words the presiding consul refused to put Calidius's proposalto a vote, and then, turning directly upon his colleague before theface of the whole multitude, he poured out reproof and vituperation. Marcellus turned red and then black in the face with rage. Drusus'sheart was beating rapidly with hope. So long as the consuls were atenmity, little would be done! Suddenly Scipio started as if to leavethe assembly. "He's going to call in Pompeius's cohorts!" belchedLentulus. Marcellus turned pale. Drusus saw Calidius's friendswhispering with him, evidently warning and remonstrating. Senatorscast uneasy glances toward the doorways, as if expecting to see acentury of legionaries march in to enforce the decrees of Pompeius'sspokesmen. Marcellus staggered to his feet. He was cowed, andevidently felt himself in personal danger. 

"Conscript Fathers, " he stammered, "I--I withdraw my motion to delayaction for considering the recall of Cæsar. "

"You have done well!" shouted Lentulus, triumphing savagely. Scipioostentatiously settled back on his seat, while Cato called withwarning, yet exultation:--

"Take care what you do. Cæsar is the only sober man among all thoseengaged in the plot to overturn the government. Remember with whom youmust deal, and act!"

Then Scipio arose once more. Every one knew that his fiat was law. "Conscript Fathers, " he began, "Marcus Cato speaks well. Consider thepower of Cæsar. He has trained up bands of gladiators whom hisfriends, both senators and knights, are drilling for him. He isdoubling his soldiers' pay, giving them extra corn, slaves, attendants, and land grants. A great part of the Senate, --yes, Ciceroeven, they say, --owes him money, at low and favourable rates ofinterest; he has actually made presents to freedmen and influentialslaves. All young prodigals in debt are in his pay. He has madepresents to win the favour of cities and princes, or been lending themtroops without vote of the Senate. In Italy, Gaul, and Spain, --yes, inGreece, too, and Asia, he is winning the good-will of communities byerecting splendid public buildings. So great is his present power!What he will do in a second consulship I dare not say. I dare notassign bounds to his ambition. Conscript Fathers, shall we voteourselves freemen or slaves? What more can I add to the words of theconsul? I vote to ratify the proposition of Lucius Lentulus, thatCæsar either disband his army on a fixed day, or be declared a publicenemy!"

"And what is your opinion, Lucius Domitius?" demanded Lentulus, whilenever a voice was raised to oppose Scipio. 

"Let the Senate remember, " replied Domitius, "that Cæsar will justifythe meaning of his name--the 'hard-hitter, ' and let us strike thefirst and telling blow. "

A ripple of applause swept down the Senate. The anti-Cæsarians hadcompletely recovered from their first discomfiture, and were carryingall sentiment before them. Already there were cries of "A vote! avote! Divide the Senate! A vote!"

"Conscript Fathers, " said Lentulus, "in days of great emergency likethis, when your minds seem so happily united in favour of doing thatwhich is for the manifest safety of the Republic, I will not ask forthe opinions of each senator in turn. Let the Senate divide; let allwho favour the recall of the proconsul of the Gauls pass to the right, those against to the left. And so may it be well and prosperous forthe Commonwealth. "

But Antonius was again on his feet; and at his side stood QuintusCassius. 

"Lucius Lentulus, " he thundered, "I forbid the division. _Veto!_"

"_Veto!_" shouted Cassius. 

Domitius, too, had risen. "Conscript Fathers, let the consulsremonstrate with the tribunes to withdraw their prohibition. And, ifthey do not succeed, let them lay before the Senate that order whichis the safeguard of the Republic. "

Everybody knew what Domitius meant. If Antonius would not give way, martial law was to be declared. Hot and furious raged the debate. Moreand more passionate the expressions of party hatred. More and moremenacing the gestures directed upon the two Cæsarian tribunes. Buteven the impetuous fierceness of Lentulus, Cato, Scipio, and Domitiuscombined could not drive the browbeaten Senate to cast loose from itslast mooring that night. Domitius's measure went over. It waslate--the stars were shining outside. Lamps had been brought in, andthrew their ruddy glare over the long tiers of seats and their augustoccupants. Finally the angry debate ended, because it was a physicalimpossibility to continue longer. Senators went away with dark frownsor care-knit foreheads. Out in the Forum bands of young "Optimates"were shouting for Pompeius, and cursing Cæsar and his followers. Drusus, following Antonius, felt that he was the adherent of a lostcause, the member of a routed army that was defending its laststronghold, which overwhelming numbers must take, be the defence neverso valiant. And when very late he lay down on his bed that night, thehowls of the fashionable mob were still ringing in his ears. 

II

That night the most old-fashioned and sober Roman went to bed at anadvanced hour. Men were gathered in little knots along the streets, inthe forums, in the porticos and basilicas, arguing, gesticulating, wrangling. Military tribunes and centurions in armour of Pompeius'slegions were parading on the _comitium_. [142] Veterans of that leaderwere jostling about in the crowd, clanking their newly furbishedarmour and shouting for their old general. If a man spoke for Cæsar, acrowd of bystanders was ready to hoot him down. Staid householderslocked up their dwellings and stationed trusty slaves at the doors tosee that the crowds did not take to riot and pillage. The sailors fromthe wharves had been drinking heavily in all the taverns, and nowroved up and down the crowded streets, seeking opportunity for brawls. Thieves and cutpurses were plying their most successful work; but noofficials had time to direct the efforts of the harassed and slenderpolice corps. To Pompeius's palace, without the gates, every man whosevoice or vote seemed worth the winning had been summoned. All thesenators had streamed out thither; and there the Magnus had broughtthem under the spell of his martial authority and made them as wax inhis hand. And all "that majesty that doth hedge about a king, " orabout a victorious general, exerted its full influence. The senatorscame into the palace of Pompeius as into the palace of their despot. He stood before them in his largest hall, wearing the embroidered robeof a triumphator, with the laurel crown of his victories upon hishead. At his right hand, as first vizir of his state, stood LentulusCrus; at his left Lucius Domitius. The senators came to him and bowedlow, and said their "_Aves_" and "_Salves_" as though cringing beforea Mithridates or Tigranes of the East; and Pompeius, by the cordialityor coolness of his response, indicated which of his vassals had or hadnot fallen under his disfavour. 

 [142] Assembly-place in the _Forum Romanum_. 

Yes, despotism had come at last for Rome. The oligarchy had by itscorrupt incapacity made a tyranny inevitable. They could make choiceof masters, but a master they must have. Many were the proud Fabii, Claudii, and Valerii present that night--men whose lines of curuleancestors were as long as the duration of the Republic--who groundtheir teeth with shame and inward rage the very moment they cried, "_Salve, Magne!_" Yet the recipient of all this adulation was in noenviable frame of mind. He looked harassed and weary, despite thesplendour of his dress and crown. And many were the whisperedconversations that passed between him and his ministers, or rathercustodians, Lentulus and Domitius. 

"Ah! poor Julia, " sighed Pompeius, whose mind ever reverted to hisdead wife, "what misery would have been yours if you had seen thisday. Poor Julia; how I loved her; and Cæsar, her father, loved hertoo; and now--"

"Be yourself, Magnus, " expostulated the consul at his side; "rememberthat for the good of the Republic every personal affection is to beput away. Recall Brutus, who put his own sons to death because theycommitted treason. Remember what Scipio Æmilianus said when he learnedthat Tiberius Gracchus, his dear brother-in-law, had been put to deathfor sedition. He quoted Homer's line:--

 "'So perish all who do the like again!'"

"And must I trample down every tie, every affection?" complainedwretched Pompeius, who never ceased hoping against hope that somethingwould avert the catastrophe. 

"There is no tie, no affection, Magnus, " said Domitius, sternly, "thatbinds you to Cæsar. Cast his friendship from your breast as you woulda viper. Think only of being justly hailed with Romulus, Camillus, andMarius as the fourth founder of Rome. Strike, and win immortal glory. "

And so to the last hour these confederates wrought upon their suppleinstrument, and bent him to their will; and their tool in turn had allelse at his mercy. Pompeius addressed the senators, and, well trainedby his guardians, spoke with brutal frankness to those who had daredto advise moderation. 

"You, Rufus, " he said, pointing a menacing finger, before which thatsenator cowered in dread, "have been advising the Republic to toleratethe chief of its enemies. You bid me to disarm or withdraw from Italy, as though the lives and property of any good men would be safe themoment Cæsar was left unopposed to pour his cohorts of barbarous Gaulsand Germans into the country. You, Calidius, have given the sameuntimely advice. Beware lest you repent the hour when you counselledthat I should disarm or quit the neighbourhood of Rome. " The two-edgedsuggestion contained in this last warning was too marked for thereproved men not to turn pale with dread, and slink away tremblingbehind their associates. 

"But, " continued Pompeius, "I have praise as well as blame; MarcusCato has not deserted the Republic. He has advised, and advised well, that the proconsul of the Gauls be stripped of his legions. " It wasCato's turn now to bite his lips with mortification, for in times pasthe had foretold that through Pompeius great miseries would come to thestate, and in his prætorship had declared that Pompeius ought to go tohis province, and not stay at home to stir up tumults and anarchy fromwhich he could emerge as monarch. And such praise from the Magnus'slips, under the present circumstances, was gall and wormwood to hishaughty soul. 

"And, " continued Pompeius, "I shall not forget to applaud theenergetic counsels of Domitius and Lentulus Crus. Let those who wishto preserve life and property, " he added, with a menacingsignificance, "see to it that they do as these gentlemen advise. "

And thereupon there was a great shout of applause from all the morerabid senators, in which the rest thought it safer to join, withsimulated heartiness. But Pompeius did not stop here. He broughtbefore the senators tribunes from the two legions taken from Cæsar, and these tribunes loudly declaimed--having learned their lessonwell--that their troops were ill-affected toward their formercommander, and would follow Pompeius to the last. And the Magnusproduced veteran officers of his old campaigns, whom hope of rewardand promotion had induced to come and declare for their formercommander. Late, very late, the informal session of the Senate brokeup. The "Fathers of the Republic" went each man to his own dwelling;but there was no longer any doubt as to what was to come of the doingsof the day. 

Flaccus, the banker, had of course no access to the conference; but hehad waited outside the gate of the palace, to learn the issue from anacquaintance in the Senate. His patience was at last rewarded. 

"Tell me, friend, " was his question, "what will be the outcome ofthis; shall I risk any loans to-morrow?"

The friendly senator seemed doubtful. 

"Cæsar is a ruined man. Who imagines his legions will fight? We knowLabienus is with Pompeius. "

"You are wrong, " said Flaccus. 

"Wrong? I?" replied the senator. "I know whereof I speak. "

"_Phy!"_ cried the banker, "not Cæsar, but you are ruined. The legionswill fight. "

"Don't prophesy, " sneered the acquaintance, "seeing that you brokersalways keep out of politics. "

"You politicians are blind, " retorted Flaccus. 

 * * * * *

The debate raged on. But by law the Senate could not convene on thethird and fourth of the month, and the question of setting aside thetribunician veto went over until the fifth. It was the last lullbefore the outbreak of the great tempest. The little group ofCæsarians put forth their final efforts. Drusus went in person to callon Cicero, the great orator, and plead with him to come out from hisresidence in the suburbs and argue for peace. The destroyer ofCatilina had declared that he would not forfeit his rights to atriumph for his Cilician victories by appearing prematurely in theSenate. Besides, he could never antagonize Pompeius. Curio smiledgrimly when his colleague reported his fruitless embassy. 

"I think, my friends, " said the politician, "we shall soon prove theold saying, 'Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad. '"

Chapter XV

The Seventh of January

I

The rapid march of events that week had taken Drusus out of himself, and made him forgetful of personal consequences; but it sobered himwhen he heard Curio and Cælius, his associates, telling Balbus wheretheir wills would be found deposited if anything calamitous were tobefall them. After all, life was very sweet to the young Livian. Hecould not at heart desire to drift off into nothingness--to stopbreathing, thinking, feeling. And for the last time he reviewed hisposition; told himself that it was not an unworthy cause for which hewas contending; that it was not treason, but patriotism, to wish tooverthrow the great oligarchy of noble families, who by theirfederated influence had pulled the wires to every electoral assembly, so that hardly a man not of their own coterie had been elected to highoffice for many a long year; while the officials themselves had grownfull and wanton on the revenues wrung from the score of unfortunateprovinces. 

The feeling against the Cæsarians was very bitter in the city. Cæsarhad always been the friend and darling of the populace; but, now thathis star seemed setting, hardly a voice was raised, save to cry up thepatriotism and determination of the consuls and Pompeius Magnus. Soldiers of the latter's legions were everywhere. The Senate was toconvene the afternoon of the seventh, in the Curia of Pompeius, in theCampus Martius. Lentulus Crus was dragging forth every obscuresenator, every retired politician, whose feet almost touched thegrave, to swell his majority. All knew that the tribunes' vetoes wereto be set aside, and arbitrary power decreed to the consuls. Drususbegan to realize that the personal peril was pressing. 

"Won't his head look pretty for the crows to pick at?" commentedMarcus Læca to a friend, as the two swept past Drusus on the street. The Livian heard the loudly muttered words and trembled. It was easyto laud the Decii who calmly sacrificed their lives for the Republic, and many another martyr to patriotism; it was quite another thing tofeel the mortal fear of death coursing in one's veins, to reflect thatsoon perhaps the dogs might be tearing this body which guarded thatstrange thing one calls self; to reflect that all which soon will beleft of one is a bleaching skull, fixed high in some public place, atwhich the heartless mob would point and gibber, saying, "That is thehead of Quintus Livius Drusus, the rebel!"

Drusus wandered on--on to the only place in Rome where he could gainthe moral courage to carry him undaunted through that which was beforehim--to the Atrium of Vesta. He entered the house of the Vestals andsent for his aunt. Fabia came quickly enough, for her heart had beenwith her nephew all these days that tried men's souls. The noble womanput her arms around the youth--for he was still hardly more--andpressed him to her breast. 

"Aunt Fabia, " said Drusus, growing very weak and pale, now that hefelt her warm, loving caress, "do you know that in two or three daysyou will have as nephew a proscribed insurgent, perhaps with a priceon his head, who perhaps is speedily to die by the executioner, likethe most ignoble felon?"

"Yes, " said Fabia, also very pale, yet smiling with a sweet, gravesmile--the smile of a goddess who grieves at the miseries of mortalmen, yet with divine omniscience glances beyond, and sees thehappiness evolved from pain. "Yes, I have heard of all that is passingin the Senate. And I know, too, that my Quintus will prove himself aFabian and a Livian, to whom the right cause and the good of theRepublic are all--and the fear of shame and death is nothing. " Andthen she sat down with him upon a couch, and took his head in her lap, and stroked him as if she were his mother. "Ah! my Quintus, " she said, "you are still very young, and it is easy for one like you to enlistwith all your ardour in a cause that seems righteous; yes, and in theheat of the moment to make any sacrifice for it; but it is not so easyfor you or any other man calmly to face shame and annihilation, whenthe actual shadow of danger can be seen creeping up hour by hour. Iknow that neither you nor many another man wise and good believes thatthere are any gods. And I--I am only a silly old woman, with little orno wisdom and wit--"

"Not silly and not old, carissima!" interrupted Drusus, smiling at herself-depreciation. 

"We won't argue, " said Fabia, in a bit lighter vein. "But--as I wouldsay--I believe in gods, and that they order all things well. "

"Why, then, " protested the young man, "do we suffer wrong or grief? Ifgods there are, they are indifferent; or, far worse, malevolent, wholove to work us woe. "

Again Fabia shook her head. 

"If we were gods, " said she, "we would all be wise, and could see thegood to come out of every seeming evil. There! I am, as I said, sillyand old, and little enough comfort can words of mine bring a brightyoung man whose head is crammed with all the learned lore of theschools of Athens. But know this, Quintus, so long as I live, youshall live in my heart--living or dead though you be. And believe me, the pleasure of life is but a very little thing; it is sweet, but howquickly it passes! And the curses or praises of men--these, too, onlya few mouldy rolls of books keep for decay! What profits it toMiltiades this hour, that a few marks on a papyrus sheet ascribe tohim renown; or how much is the joy of Sextus Tarquinius darkenedbecause a group of other marks cast reproach upon his name? If so bedeath is a sleep, how much better to feel at the end, 'I die, but Idie self-approved, and justified by self!' And if death is not all asleep; if, as Socrates tells us, there are hopes that we but pass froma base life to another with less of dross, then how do pleasures andglories, griefs and dishonours, of this present life touch upon a manwhose happiness or woe will be found all within?"

And so the good woman talked, giving to Drusus her own pure faith andhope and courage; and when the intellectual philosopher within himrevolted at some of her simple premises and guileless sophistries, against his will he was persuaded by them, and was fain to own tohimself that the heart of a good woman is past finding out; that itsimpulses are more genuine, its intuitions truer, its promptings surer, than all the fine-spun intellectuality of the most subtlemetaphysician. When at last Drusus rose to leave his aunt, his facewas glowing with a healthy colour, his step was elastic, his voiceresonant with a noble courage. Fabia embraced him again and again. "Remember, whatever befalls, " were her parting words, "I shall stilllove you. " And when Drusus went out of the house he saw the dignifiedfigure of the Vestal gazing after him. A few minutes later he passedno less a personage than the consular Lucius Domitius on his way tosome political conference. He did not know what that dignitarymuttered as he swept past in spotless toga, but the gloomy ferocity ofhis brow needed no interpreter. Drusus, however, never for a momentgave himself disquietude. He was fortified for the best and the worst, not by any dumb resignation, not by any cant of philosophy, but by aninward monitor which told him that some power in some way would leadhim forth out of all dangers in a manner whereof man could neither asknor think. 

 * * * * *

On the sixth of January the debate, as already said, drew toward itsend. All measures of conciliation had been voted down; the crisis wasclose at hand. On the seventh, after his interview with Fabia, Drususwent back to his own lodgings, made a few revisions in his will, andin the presence of two or three friends declared Cappadoxmanumitted, [143] lest he, by some chance, fall into the clutches of abrutal master. The young man next wrote a long letter to Cornelia forAgias to forward to Baiæ, and put in it such hope as he could gleanfrom the dark words of the philosophers; that even if destruction nowovertook him, death perhaps did not end all; that perhaps they wouldmeet beyond the grave. Then he took leave of his weeping freedmen andslaves, and strolled out into the city, and wandered about the Forumand the Sacred Way, to enjoy, perchance, a last view of the sites thatwere to the Roman so dear. Then finally he turned toward the CampusMartius, and was strolling down under the long marble-paved colonnadeof the Portico of Pompeius. Lost in a deep reverie, he was forgetfulof all present events, until he was roused by a quick twitch at theelbow; he looked around and found Agias before him. 

 [143] _Manumissio inter amicos_ was less formal than the regular ceremony before the prætor. 

"_A!_ domine, " cried the young Greek, "I have friends in the house ofLentulus. I have just been told by them that the consul has sworn thathe will begin to play Sulla this very day. Neither you, nor Antonius, Cassius, Curio, nor the other supporters of Cæsar will be aliveto-night. Do not go into the Curia. Get away, quickly! Warn yourfriends, and leave Rome, or to-night you will all be strangled in theTullianum!"

The Tullianum! Drusus knew no other term to conjure up a like abode ofhorrors--the ancient prison of the city, a mere chamber sunk in theground, and beneath that a dungeon, accessible only by an opening inthe floor above--where the luckless Jugurtha had perished of cold andstarvation, and where Lentulus Sura, Cethegus, and the otherlieutenants of Catilina had been garroted, in defiance of all theirlegal rights, by the arbitrary decree of a rancorous Senate! So atlast the danger had come! Drusus felt himself quiver at every fibre. He endured a sensation the like of which he had never felt before--oneof utter moral faintness. But he steadied himself quickly. Shame athis own recurring cowardice overmastered him. "I am an unworthyLivian, indeed, " he muttered, not perhaps realizing that it is farmore heroic consciously to confront and receive the full terrors of aperil, and put them by, than to have them harmlessly roll off on someself-acting mental armour. 

"Escape! There is yet time!" urged Agias, pulling his toga. Drususshook his head. 

"Not until the Senate has set aside the veto of the tribunes, " hereplied quietly. 

"But the danger will then be imminent!"

"A good soldier does not leave his post, my excellent Agias, " said theRoman, "until duty orders him away. Our duty is in the Senate until wecan by our presence and voice do no more. When that task is over, wego to Cæsar as fast as horse may bear us; but not until then. "

"Then I have warned you all in vain!" cried Agias. 

"Not at all. You may still be of the greatest service. Arrange so thatwe can leave Rome the instant we quit the Curia. "

"But if the lictors seize you before you get out of the building?"

"We can only take our chance. I think we shall be permitted to go out. I had intended to ride out of the city this evening if nothinghindered and the final vote had been passed. But now I see that cannotbe done. You have wit and cunning, Agias. Scheme, provide. We mustescape from Rome at the earliest moment consistent with our duty andhonour. "

"I have it, " said Agias, his face lighting up. "Come at once afterleaving the Curia, to the rear of the Temple of Mars. [144] I know oneor two of the temple servants, and they will give me the use of theirrooms. There I will have ready some slave dresses for a disguise, andjust across the Æmilian bridge I will have some fast horseswaiting--that is, if you can give me an order on your stables. "

 [144] The Ædes Martis of the Campus Martius. 

Drusus took off his signet ring. 

"Show that to Pausanias. He will honour every request you make, be itfor a million sesterces. "

Agias bowed and was off. For the last time Drusus was tempted to callhim back and say that the flight would begin at once. But the nimbleGreek was already out of sight, and heroism became a necessity. Drususresolutely turned his steps toward the senate-house. Not having beenable to forecast the immediate moves of the enemy, he had not arrangedfor hurried flight; it was to be regretted, although he had known thaton that day the end of the crisis would come. He soon met Antonius, and imparted to him what he had just learned from Agias, and theprecautions taken. 

Antonius shook his head, and remarked:--

"You ought not to go with me. Little enough can we who are tribunesdo; you have neither voice nor vote, and Lentulus is your personalfoe. So back, before it is too late. Let us shift for ourselves. "

Drusus replied never a word, but simply took the tribune's arm andwalked the faster toward the Curia. 

"I am a very young soldier, " he said presently; "do not be angry if Iwish to show that I am not afraid of the whizzing arrows. "

"Then, my friend, whatever befalls, so long as life is in my body, remember you have a brother in Marcus Antonius. "

The two friends pressed one another's hands, and entered the CuriaPompeii. There in one of the foremost seats sat the Magnus, [145] thecentre of a great flock of adulators, who were basking in the sunshineof his favour. Yet Drusus, as he glanced over at the Imperator, thought that the great man looked harassed and worried--forced to bepartner in a scheme when he would cheerfully be absent. Fluttering intheir broad togas about the senate-house were Domitius, Cato, theMarcelli, and Scipio, busy whipping into line the few remainingwaverers. As Cato passed the tribune's bench, and saw the handful ofCæsarians gathered there, he cast a glance of indescribable malignityupon them, a glance that made Drusus shudder, and think again of thehorrors of the Tullianum. 

 [145] Pompeius was not allowed by law to attend sessions of the Senate (so long as he was proconsul of Spain) when held inside the old city limits; but the Curia which he himself built was outside the walls in the Campus Martius. This meeting seems to have been convened there especially that he might attend it. 

"I know now how Cato looked, " said he to Antonius, "when he denouncedthe Catilinarians and urged that they should be put to death withouttrial. "

Antonius shrugged his shoulders, and replied:--

"Cato cannot forgive Cæsar. When Cæsar was consul, Cato interruptedhis speech, and Cæsar had him haled off to prison. Marcus Cato neverforgives or forgets. "

Curio, Cælius, and Quintus Cassius had entered the senate-house--theonly Cæsarians present besides Antonius and his viator. The first twowent and took their seats in the body of the building, and Drususnoticed how their colleagues shrank away from them, refusing to sitnear the supporters of the Gallic proconsul. 

"_Eho!_" remarked Antonius, his spirits rising as the crisis drew on. "This is much like Catilina's days, to be sure! No one would sit withhim when he went into the Senate. However, I imagine that theseexcellent gentlemen will hardly find Cæsar as easy to handle asCatilina. "

Again Lentulus was in his curule chair, and again the solemn farce oftaking the auspices, preparatory to commencing the session, was gonethrough. 

Then for the last time in that memorable series of debates Lentulusarose and addressed the Senate, storming, browbeating, threatening, and finally ending with these words, that brought everything to ahead:--

"Seeing then, Conscript Fathers, that Quintus Cassius and MarcusAntonius are using their tribunician office to aid Caius Cæsar toperpetuate his tyranny, the consuls ask you to clothe the magistrateswith dictatorial power in order that the liberties of the Republic maynot be subverted!"

The liberties of the Republic! Liberty to plunder provinces! To bribe!To rob the treasury! To defraud! To violate the law of man and God! Torule the whole world so that a corrupt oligarchy might be aggrandized!Far, far had the nation of the older Claudii, Fabii, and Corneliifallen from that proud eminence when, a hundred years before, Polybius, contrasting the Romans with the degenerate Greeks, hadexclaimed, "A statesman of Hellas, with ten checking clerks and tenseals, ... Cannot keep faith with a single talent; Romans, in theirmagistracies and embassies, handle great sums of money, and yet frompure respect of oath keep their faith intact. "

But the words of selfish virulence and cant had been uttered, and upfrom the body of the house swelled a shout of approval, growing louderand louder every instant. 

Then up rose Domitius, on his face the leer of a brutal triumph. 

"Conscript Fathers, " he said, "I call for a vote on the question ofmartial law. Have the Senate divide on the motion. 'Let the consuls, prætors, tribunes of the plebs, and men of consular rank see to itthat the Republic suffers no harm. '"

Another shout of applause rolled along the seats, fiercer and fiercer, and through it all a shower of curses and abusive epithets upon theCæsarians. All around Drusus seemed to be tossing and bellowing thebreakers of some vast ocean, an ocean of human forms and faces, thatwas about to dash upon him and overwhelm him, in mad furyirresistible. The din was louder and louder. The bronze casings on thewalls rattled, the pediments and pavements seemed to vibrate; outside, the vast mob swarming around the Curia reëchoed the shout. "Down withCæsar!" "Down with the tribunes!" "_Io!_ Pompeius!"

It was all as some wild distorted dream passing before Drusus's eyes. He could not bring himself to conceive the scene as otherwise. In asort of stupor he saw the senators swarming to the right of thebuilding, hastening to cast their votes in favour of Domitius'smotion. Only two men--under a storm of abuse and hootings, passed tothe left and went on record against the measure. These were Curio andCælius; and they stood for some moments alone on the deserted side ofthe house, defiantly glaring at the raging Senate. Antonius andCassius contemptuously remained in their seats--for no magistratecould vote in the Senate. 

It was done; it could not be undone. Not Cæsar, but the Senate, haddecreed the end of the glorious Republic. Already, with hastyostentation, some senators were stepping outside the Curia, andreturning clad no longer in the toga of peace, but in a militarycloak[146] which a slave had been keeping close at hand in readiness. Already Cato was on his feet glaring at the Cæsarian tribunes, anddemanding that first of all they be subjected to punishment forpersisting in their veto. The Senate was getting more boisterous eachminute. A tumult was like to break out, in which some deed of violencewould be committed, which would give the key-note to the wholesanguinary struggle impending. Yet in the face of the raging tempestMarcus Antonius arose and confronted the assembly. It raged, hooted, howled, cursed. He still remained standing. Cato tried to continue hisinvective. The tempest that he had done so much to raise drowned hisown voice, and he relapsed into his seat. But still Antonius stood hisground, quietly, with no attempt to shout down the raging Senate, assteadfastly as though a thousand threats were not buzzing around hisears. Drusus's heart went with his friend that instant. He had neverbeen in a battle, yet he realized that it was vastly more heroic tostand undaunted before this audience, than to walk into the bloodiestmêlée without a tremor. 

 [146] _Sagum_. 

Then of a sudden, like the interval between the recession of one waveand the advance of a second billow, came a moment of silence; and intothat silence Antonius broke, with a voice so strong, so piercing, soresonant, that the most envenomed oligarch checked his clamour to giveear. 

"Hearken, ye senators of the Republic, ye false _patres_, ye fathersof the people who are no fathers! So far have we waited; we wait nomore! So much have we seen; we'll see no further! So much have weendured, --reproaches, repulses, deceits, insult, outrage, yes, for Isee it in the consul's eye, next do we suffer violence itself; butthat we will not tamely suffer. Ay! drive us from our seats, as MarcusCato bids you! Ay! strike our names from the Senate list, as Domitiuswill propose! Ay! hound your lictors, sir consul, after us, to laytheir rods across our backs! Ay! enforce your decree proclaimingmartial law! So have you acted before to give legal fiction to yourtyranny! But tell me this, senators, prætorii, consulars, and consuls, where will this mad violence of yours find end? Tiberius Gracchus youhave murdered. Caius Gracchus you have murdered. Marcus Drusus youhave murdered. Ten thousand good men has your creature Sulla murdered. Without trial, without defence, were the friends of Catilina murdered. And now will ye add one more deed of blood to those going before? Willye strike down an inviolate tribune, in Rome, --in the shadow of thevery Curia? Ah! days of the Decemvirs, when an evil Ten ruled over thestate--would that those days might return! Not ten tyrants but athousand oppress us now! Then despotism wore no cloak of patriotism orlegal right, but walked unmasked in all its blackness!

"Hearken, ye senators, and in the evil days to come, remember all Isay. Out of the seed which ye sow this hour come wars, civil wars;Roman against Roman, kinsman against kinsman, brother against brother!There comes impiety, violence, cruelty, bloodshed, anarchy! Therecomes the destruction of the old; there comes the birth, amid pain andanguish, of the new! Ye who grasp at money, at power, at high office;who trample on truth and right to serve your selfish ends; false, degenerate Romans, --one thing can wipe away your crimes--"

"What?" shouted Cato, across the senate-house; while Pompeius, who wasshifting uncomfortably in his seat, had turned very red. 

"Blood!" cried back Antonius, carried away by the frenzy of his owninvective; then, shooting a lightning glance over the awe-struckSenate, he spoke as though gifted with some terrible propheticomniscience. "Pompeius Magnus, the day of your prosperity ispast--prepare ingloriously to die! Lentulus Crus, you, too, shall paythe forfeit of your crimes! Metellus Scipio, Marcus Cato, LuciusDomitius, within five years shall you all be dead--dead and withinfamy upon your names! Your blood, your blood shall wipe away yourfolly and your lust for power. Ye stay, we go. Ye stay to pass oncemore unvetoed the decree declaring Cæsar and his friends enemies ofthe Republic; we go--go to endure our outlaw state. But we go toappeal from the unjust scales of your false Justice to the justersword of an impartial Mars, and may the Furies that haunt the lives oftyrants and shedders of innocent blood attend you--attend your personsso long as ye are doomed to live, and your memory so long as men shallhave power to heap on your names reproach!"

Drusus hardly knew that Antonius had so much as stopped, when he foundhis friend leading him out of the Curia. 

Behind, all was still as they walked away toward the Temple of Mars. Then, as they proceeded a little distance, a great roar as of adistant storm-wind drifted out from the senate-house--so long hadAntonius held his audience spellbound. 

"_Finitum est!_" said Curio, his eyes cast on the ground. "We haveseen, my friends, the last day of the Republic. "

II

Behind the Temple of Mars the faithful Agias was ready with theslaves' dresses which were to serve as a simple disguise. Antonius andhis companions tossed off their cumbrous togas and put on the dark, coarse cloaks and slippers which were worn by slaves and people of thelower classes. These changes were quickly made, but valuable time waswasted while Antonius--who, as a bit of a dandy, wore his hair ratherlong[147]--underwent a few touches with the shears. It was nownecessary to get across the Tiber without being recognized, and oncefairly out of Rome the chances of a successful pursuit were not many. On leaving the friendly shelter of the Temple buildings, nothinguntoward was to be seen. The crowds rushing to and fro, from the Curiaand back, were too busy and excited to pay attention to a little groupof slaves, who carefully kept from intruding themselves into notice. Occasionally the roar and echo of applause and shouting came from thenow distant Curia, indicating that the Senate was still at its unholywork of voting wars and destructions. A short walk would bring themacross the Pons Æmilius, and there, in the shelter of one of thegroves of the new public gardens which Cæsar had just been laying outon Janiculum, were waiting several of the fastest mounts which theactivity of Agias and the lavish expenditures of Pausanias had beenable to procure. 

 [147] Slaves were always close clipped. 

The friends breathed more easily. 

"I hardly think, " said Quintus Cassius, "we shall be molested. Theconsuls cannot carry their mad hate so far. "

They were close to the bridge. The way was lined with tall warehousesand grain storehouses, [148] the precursors of the modern "elevators. "They could see the tawny Tiber water flashing between the stone archesof the bridge. The swarms of peasants and countrymen driving herds oflowing kine and bleating sheep toward the adjacent Forum Boariumseemed unsuspicious and inoffensive. A moment more and all Drusus'stremors and anxieties would have passed as harmless fantasy. 

 [148] _Horreæ_. 

Their feet were on the bridge. They could notice the wind sweepingthrough the tall cypresses in the gardens where waited the steeds thatwere to take them to safety. The friends quickened their pace. A cloudhad drifted across the sun; there was a moment's gloom. When the lightdanced back, Drusus caught Curio's arm with a start. 

"Look!" The new sunbeams had glanced on the polished helmet of asoldier standing guard at the farther end of the bridge. 

There was only an instant for hesitation. 

"Lentulus has foreseen that we must try to escape by this way, " saidCurio, seriously, but without panic. "We must go back at once, and tryto cross by the wooden bridge below or by some other means. "

But a great herd of dirty silver-grey Etruscan cattle came over thecauseway, and to get ahead of them would have been impracticablewithout attracting the most unusual attention. It was now evidentenough that there was a considerable guard at the head of the bridge, and to make a rush and overpower it was impossible. The heavy-udderedcows and snorting, bellowing bulls dragged by with a slow ploddingthat almost drove Drusus frantic. They were over at last, and thefriends hastened after them, far more anxious to leave the bridge thanthey had been an instant before to set foot upon it. On they pressed, until as if by magic there stood across their path the twelve lictorsof one of the consuls, with upraised fasces. Behind the lictors was ahalf-century of soldiers in full armour led by their _optio_. [149]

 [149] Adjutant, subordinate to a centurion. 

"Sirs, " announced the head lictor, "I am commanded by the consul, Lucius Lentulus Crus, to put you all under arrest for treason againstthe Republic. Spare yourselves the indignity of personal violence, byoffering no resistance. "

To resist would indeed have been suicide. The friends had worn theirshort swords under their cloaks, but counting Agias they were onlysix, and the lictors were twelve, to say nothing of the soldiers, ofwhom there were thirty or more. 

The ground seemed swaying before Drusus's eyes; in his ears was abuzzing; his thoughts came to him, thick, confused, yet through themall ran the vision of Cornelia, and the conviction that he was neverto see her again. He looked back. The soldiers at the head of thebridge had taken alarm and were marching down to complete the arrest. He looked before. The lictors, the troops, the stupid cattle and theirstolid drivers, and the great black-sided warehouses, casting theirgloomy shadow over the rippling river. Down stream; not a skiff seemedstirring. The water was plashing, dancing, glancing in the sunshine. Below the wooden bridge the spars of a huge merchantman were justcovering with canvas, as she stood away from her quay. Up stream (theviews were all compressed into the veriest moment)--with the currentcame working, or rather drifting, a heavy barge loaded with timber. Only two men, handling rude paddles, stood upon her deck. The bargewas about to pass under the very arch upon which stood the handful ofentrapped Cæsarians. A word, a motion, and the last hope of escapewould have been comprehended by the enemy, and all would have beenlost. But in moments of extreme peril it is easy to make a glance fullof pregnancy. Antonius saw the face of his friend--saw and understood;and the other seemingly doomed men understood likewise. In an instantthe barge would pass under the bridge!

"Fellow, " replied Antonius (the whole inspection of the situation, formation of the plot, and visual dialogue had really been so rapid asto make no long break after the lictor ceased speaking), "do you darethus to do what even the most profane and impious have never daredbefore? Will you lay hands on two inviolate tribunes of the plebs, andthose under their personal protection; and by your very act become a_sacer_--an outlaw devoted to the gods, whom it is a pious thing forany man to slay?"

"I have my orders, sir, " replied the head lictor, menacingly. "And Iwould have you know that neither you nor Quintus Cassius are reckonedtribunes longer by the Senate; so by no such plea can you escapearrest. "

"Tribunes no longer!" cried Antonius; "has tyranny progressed so farthat no magistrate can hold office after he ceases to humour theconsuls?"

"We waste time, sir, " said the lictor, sternly. "Forward, men; seizeand bind them!"

But Antonius's brief parley had done its work. As the bow of the bargeshot under the bridge, Curio, with a single bound over the parapet, sprang on to its deck; after him leaped Quintus Cassius, and after himCælius. Before Drusus could follow, however, the stern of the bargehad vanished under the archway. The lictors and soldiers had sprungforward, but a second had been lost by rushing to the eastern side ofthe bridge, where the barge had just disappeared from sight. Agias, Antonius, and Drusus were already standing on the western parapet. Thelictors and soldiers were on them in an instant. The blow of one ofthe fasces smote down Antonius, but he fell directly into the vesselbeneath--stunned but safe. A soldier caught Agias by the leg to draghim down. Drusus smote the man under the ear so that he fell without agroan; but Agias himself had been thrown from the parapet on to thebridge; the soldiers were thronging around. Drusus saw the naked steelof their swords flashing before his eyes; he knew that the barge wasslipping away in the current. It was a time of seconds, but of secondsexpanded for him into eternities. With one arm he dashed back alictor, with the other cast Agias--he never knew whence came thatstrength which enabled him to do the feat--over the stonework, andinto the arms of Curio in the receding boat. Then he himself leaped. Arude hand caught his cloak. It was torn from his back. A sword whiskedpast his head--he never learned how closely. He was in the air, sawthat the barge was getting away, and next he was chilled by a suddendash of water and Cælius was dragging him aboard; he had landed underthe very stern of the barge. Struggling in the water, weighed down bytheir armour, were several soldiers who had leaped after him and hadmissed their distance completely. 

The young man clambered on to the rude vessel. Its crew (two simple, harmless peasants) were cowering among the lumber. Curio had seizedone of the paddles and was guiding the craft out into the middle ofthe current; for the soldiers were already running along the wharvesand preparing to fling their darts. The other men, who had just beenplucked out of the jaws of destruction, were all engaged in collectingtheir more or less scattered wits and trying to discover the next turnof calamity in store. Antonius--who, despite his fall, had come downupon a coil of rope and so escaped broken bones and seriousbruises--was the first to sense the great peril of even their presentsituation. 

"In a few moments, " he remarked, casting a glance down the river, "weshall be under the Pons Sublicius, and we shall either be easilystopped and taken, or crushed with darts as we pass by. You see theyare already signalling from the upper bridge to their guard at thelower. We shall drift down into their hands, and gain nothing by ourfirst escape. "

"Anchor, " suggested Cassius, who was an impulsive and ratherinconsiderate man. And he prepared to pitch overboard the heavymooring-stone. 

"_Phui!_ You sheep, " cried Curio, contemptuously, mincing no words atthat dread moment. "How long will it be before there will be tenboatloads of soldiers alongside? Can we beat off all Pompeius'slegions?"

Antonius caught up another paddle and passed it through a rower'sthong. 

"Friends, " he said, with that ready command which his military lifehad given him, "these soldiers are in armour and can run none tooswiftly. Once show them the back, and they must throw away their armsor give over the chase. It is madness to drift down upon the lowerbridge. We must turn across the river, risk the darts, and try to landon the farther bank. Take oars!"

There was but one remaining paddle. Drusus seized it and pushedagainst the water with so much force that the tough wood bent andcreaked, but did not snap. The unwieldy barge sluggishly answered thispowerful pressure, and under the stroke of the three oars began tohead diagonally across the current and move slowly toward the farthershore. The soldiers did not at once perceive the intent of this move. By their actions they showed that they had expected the barge to tryto slip through the Pons Sublicius, and so escape down the river. Theyhad run some little way along the south bank of the Tiber, toreënforce their comrades at the lower bridge, when they saw the newcourse taken by their expected prey. Much valuable time had thus beengained by the pursued, time which they needed sadly enough, for, despite their frantic rowing, their unwieldy craft would barely crawlacross the current. 

Long before the barge was within landing distance of the northernbank, the soldiers who had been on guard at the head of the PonsÆmilius had regained their former station, and were running along theshore to cut off any attempt there to escape. Soon a whizzing javelindug into the plank at Drusus's feet, and a second rushed over Cælius'shead, and plashed into the water beyond the barge. Other soldiers onthe now receding southern bank were piling into a light skiff tosecond their comrades' efforts by a direct attack on the fugitives. 

A third dart grazed Antonius's hair and buried its head in the pile oflumber. The tribune handed his oar to Cælius, and, deliberatelywresting the weapon from the timber, flung it back with so deadly anaim that one pursuing legionary went down, pierced through thebreastplate. The others recoiled for an instant, and no more javelinswere thrown, which was some slight gain for the pursued. 

It seemed, however, that the contest could have only a single ending. The soldiers were running parallel and apace with the barge, which wasnow as close to the northern bank as was safe in view of the missiles. The Pons Sublicius was getting minute by minute nearer, and upon itcould be seen a considerable body of troops ready with darts andgrapnels to cut off the last hope of escape. 

But Antonius never withdrew his eye from the line of darkweatherbeaten warehouses that stretched down to the river's edge onthe north bank just above the Pons Sublicius. 

"Row, " he exhorted his companions, "row! as life is dear! Row as neverbefore!"

And under the combined impulse of the three desperate men, even theheavy barge leaped forward and a little eddy of foaming waves began totrail behind her stern. Drusus had no time to ask of himself orAntonius the special object of this last burst of speed. He only knewthat he was flinging every pound of strength into the heavy handle ofhis oar, and that his life depended on making the broad blade pushback the water as rapidly as possible. Antonius, however, had had goodcause for his command. A searching scrutiny had revealed to him that asingle very long warehouse ran clear down to the river's edge, and somade it impossible to continue running along the bank. A pursuer mustdouble around the whole length of the building before continuing thechase of the barge. And for a small quay just beyond this warehouseAntonius headed his clumsy vessel. The soldiers continued their chaseup to the very walls of the warehouse, where they, of a sudden, foundthemselves stopped by an impenetrable barrier. They lost an instant ofvaluable time in trying to wade along the bank, where the channelshelved off rapidly, and, finding the attempt useless, dashed a volleyof their missiles after the barge. But the range was very long. Fewreached the vessel; none did damage. The soldiers disappeared behindthe warehouse, still running at a headlong pace. Before theyreappeared on the other side, Antonius had brought his craft to thequay. There was no time for mooring, and the instant the barge lostway the hard-pressed Cæsarians were on shore. Another instant, and theclumsy vessel had been caught by the current, and swung out into thestream. 

She had done her work. The pursued men broke into a dash for thenearest highway. The soldiers were close after them. But they hadflung away their javelins, and what with their heavy armour and thefatigue of running were quite as exhausted as the Cæsarians, three ofwhom had been thoroughly winded by their desperate rowing. On the PonsSublicius, where a great crowd had gathered to watch the excitingchase, there was shouting and tumult. No doubt voices few enough wouldhave been raised for the Cæsarians if they had been captured; but nowthat they bade fair to escape, the air was thick with gibes at thesoldiers, and cries of encouragement to the pursued. On the twoparties ran. Soon they were plunged in the tortuous, dirty lanes ofthe "Trans-Tiber" district, rushing at frantic speed past the shops ofdirty Jews and the taverns of noisy fishermen and sailors. Alreadynews of the chase had gone before them, and, as Drusus followed hisfriends under the half-arching shadows of the tall tenement houses, drunken pedlers and ribald women howled out their wishes of success, precisely as though they were in a race-course. Now the dirty streetswere left behind and the fatigued runners panted up the slopes of theJaniculum, toward the gardens of Cæsar. They passed the little grovesacred to the Furies, and, even as for life he ran, Drusus recalledwith shame how over this very road to this very grove, had fled CaiusGracchus, the great tribune of the people, whom Drusus's own greatgrandfather, Marcus Livius Drusus, had hounded to his death; that daywhen all men encouraged him as he ran, but none would raise a hand toaid. 

But now up from the bridge came the thunder of horses'hoofs, --cavalry, tearing at a furious gallop. Pompeius had evidentlyordered out a _turma_[150] of mounted men to chase down the runaways. More and more frantic the race--Drusus's tongue hung from his mouthlike a dog's. He flew past a running fountain, and was just desperateenough to wonder if it was safe to stop one instant and touch--hewould not ask to drink--one drop of the cool water. Fortunately theCæsarians were all active young men, of about equal physical powers, and they kept well together and encouraged one another, not byword--they had no breath for that--but by interchange of courage andsympathy from eye to eye. The heavy legionaries had given up thechase; it was the cavalry, now flying almost at their very heels, thaturged them to their final burst of speed. 

 [150] Squadron of 30 horse. 

At last! Here were the gardens of Cæsar, and close by the roadwayunder a spreading oak, their grooms holding them in readiness forinstant service, were six of the best specimens of horseflesh moneycould command. 

None of the little party had breath left to speak a word. To flingthemselves into the saddles, to snatch the reins from the attendants'hands, to plunge the heels of their sandals, in lieu of spurs, intothe flanks of their already restless steeds, --these things were donein an instant, but none too soon. For, almost as the six riders turnedout upon the road to give head to their horses, the cavalry were uponthem. The foremost rider sent his lance over Curio's shoulder, grazingthe skin and starting blood; a second struck with his short sword atCælius's steed, but the horse shied, and before the blow could berepeated the frightened beast had taken a great bound ahead and out ofdanger. This exciting phase of the pursuit, however, was of onlymomentary duration. The horses of the Cæsarians were so incomparablysuperior to the common army hacks of the soldiers, that, as soon asthe noble blooded animals began to stretch their long limbs on thehard Roman road, the troopers dropped back to a harmless distance inthe rear. The cavalrymen's horses, furthermore, had been thoroughlywinded by the fierce gallop over the bridge, and now it was out of thequestion for them to pursue. Before the flight had continued a mile, the Cæsarians had the satisfaction of seeing their enemies draw rein, then turn back to the city. The friends, however, did not check theirpace until, safe beyond chance of overtaking, they reined in at anhospitable tavern in the old Etruscan town of Veii. 

Here Drusus took leave of Agias. 

"You are quite too unimportant an enemy, " said he to the young Greek, "to be worth arrest by the consuls, if indeed they know what part youhave had in our escape. I know not what perils are before me, and Ihave no right to ask you to share them. You have long ago paid off anydebt of gratitude that you owed me and mine when Fabia saved yourlife. I am your patron no longer; go, and live honourably, and youwill find deposited with Flaccus a sum that will provide for all yourneeds. If ever I return to Rome, my party victorious, myself infavour, then let us renew our friendship; but till then you and I meetno more. "

Agias knelt and kissed Drusus's robe in a semi-Oriental obeisance. 

"And is there nothing, " he asked half wistfully at the parting, "thatI can yet do for you?"

"Nothing, " said Drusus, "except to see that no harm come to my AuntFabia, and if it be possible deliver Cornelia from the clutches of herbloody uncle. "

"Ah!" said Agias, smiling, "that is indeed _something_! But be nottroubled, domine, "--he spoke as if Drusus was still his master, --"Iwill find a way. "

That evening, under the canopy of night, the five Cæsarians sped, swift as their horses could bear them, on their way to Ravenna. 

Chapter XVI

The Rubicon

I

It was growing late, but the proconsul apparently was manifesting noimpatience. All the afternoon he had been transacting the routinebusiness of a provincial governor--listening to appeals to hisjudgment seat, signing requisitions for tax imposts, making outcommissions, and giving undivided attention to a multitude of seemingtrifles. Only Decimus Mamercus, the young centurion, --elder son of theveteran of Præneste, --who stood guard at the doorway of the publicoffice of the prætorium, thought he could observe a hidden nervousnessand a still more concealed petulance in his superior's manner thatbetokened anxiety and a desire to be done with the routine of the day. Finally the last litigant departed, the governor descended from thecurule chair, the guard saluted as he passed out to his own privaterooms, and soon, as the autumn darkness began to steal over thecantonment, nothing but the call of the sentries broke the calm of theadvancing night. 

Cæsar was submitting to the attentions of his slaves, who wereexchanging his robes of state for the comfortable evening _synthesis_. But the proconsul was in no mood for the publicity of the eveningbanquet. When his chief freedman announced that the invited guests hadassembled, the master bade him go to the company and inform them thattheir host was indisposed, and wished them to make merry without him. The evening advanced. Twice Cæsar touched to his lips a cup of spicedwine, but partook of nothing else. Sending his servants from hischamber, he alternately read, and wrote nervously on his tablets, thenerased all that he had inscribed, and paced up and down the room. Presently the anxious head-freedman thrust his head into theapartment. 

"My lord, it is past midnight. The guests have long departed. Therewill be serious injury done your health, if you take no food andrest. "

"My good Antiochus, " replied the proconsul, "you are a faithfulfriend. "

The freedman--an elderly, half-Hellenized Asiatic--knelt and kissedthe Roman's robe. 

"My lord knows that I would die for him. "

"I believe you, Antiochus. The gods know I never needed a friend morethan now! Do not leave the room. "

The general's eyes were glittering, his cheeks flushed with anunhealthy colour. The freedman was startled. 

"Domine, domine!" he began, "you are not well--let me send forCalchas, the physician; a mild sleeping powder--"

For the first time in his long service of Cæsar, Antiochus met with aburst of wrath from his master. 

"Vagabond! Do you think a sleeping potion will give peace to _me_?Speak again of Calchas, and I'll have you crucified!"

"Domine, domine!" cried the trembling freedman; but Cæsar swept on:--

"Don't go from the room! I am desperate to-night. I may lay violenthands on myself. Why should I not ask you for a poisoned dagger?"

Antiochus cowered at his master's feet. 

"Yes, why not? What have I to gain by living? I have won some littlefame. I have conquered all Gaul. I have invaded Britain. I have madethe Germans tremble. Life is an evil dream, a nightmare, a frightfuldelusion. Death is real. Sleep--sleep--forever sleep! No care, noambition, no vexation, no anger, no sorrow. Cornelia, the wife of mylove, is asleep. Julia is asleep. All that I loved sleep. Why not Ialso?"

"Domine, speak not so!" and Antiochus clasped the proconsul's knees. 

Cæsar bent down and lifted him up by the hand. When he spoke again, the tone was entirely changed. 

"Old friend, you have known me; have loved me. You were my_pedagogue_[151] when I went to school at Rome. You taught me to rideand fence and wrestle. You aided me to escape the myrmidons of Sulla. You were with me in Greece. You shared my joy in my politicalsuccesses, my triumphs in the field. And now what am I to do? You knowthe last advices from Rome; you know the determination of the consulsto work my ruin. To-day no news has come at all, and for us no news isthe worst of news. "

 [151] Slave who looked after the welfare and conduct of a schoolboy. 

"Domine, " said Antiochus, wiping his eyes, "I cannot dream that theSenate and Pompeius will deny you your right to the secondconsulship. "

"But if they do? You know what Curio reports. What then?"

Antiochus shook his head. 

"It would mean war, bloody war, the upturning of the whole world!"

"War, or--" and Cæsar paused. 

"What, my lord?" said the freedman. 

"I cease either to be a care to myself or my enemies. "

"I do not understand you, domine, " ventured Antiochus, turning pale. 

"I mean, good friend, " said the proconsul, calmly, "that when Iconsider how little life often seems worth, and how much disaster thecontinuance of my act of living means to my fellow-men, I feel oftenthat I have no right to live. "

Antiochus staggered with dread. Cæsar was no longer talking wildly;and the freedman knew that when in a calm mood the proconsul wasalways perfectly serious. 

"Domine, you have not rashly determined this?" he hinted. 

"I have determined nothing. I never rashly determine anything. Hark!Some one is at the door. "

There was a loud military knock, and the clang of armour. 

"Enter, " commanded Cæsar. 

Decimus Mamercus hastened into the room. So great was his excitementthat his Roman discipline had forsaken him. He neglected to salute. 

"News! news! Imperator! from Rome! News which will set all Italyafire!"

Whereupon the man who had but just before been talking of suicide, with the greatest possible deliberation seated himself on acomfortable chair, arranged his dress, and remarked with perfectcoldness:--

"No tidings can justify a soldier in neglecting to salute hisgeneral. "

Decimus turned red with mortification, and saluted. 

"Now, " said Cæsar, icily, "what have you to report?"

"Imperator, " replied Decimus, trying to speak with unimpassionedpreciseness, "a messenger has just arrived from Rome. He reports thatthe Senate and consuls have declared the Republic in peril, that theveto of your tribunes has been over-ridden, and they themselves forcedto flee for their lives. "

Cæsar had carelessly dropped a writing tablet that he was holding, andnow he stooped slowly and picked it up again. 

"The messenger is here?" he inquired, after a pause. 

"He is, " replied the centurion. 

"Has he been duly refreshed after a hard ride?" was the next question. 

"He has just come. "

"Then let him have the best food and drink my butler and cellarer canset before him. "

"But his news is of extreme importance, " gasped Decimus, only halfbelieving his ears. 

"I have spoken, " said the general, sternly. "What is his name?"

"He is called Quintus Drusus, Imperator. "

"Ah!" was his deliberate response, "send him to me when he will eatand drink no more. "

Decimus saluted again, and withdrew, while his superior opened theroll in his hands, and with all apparent fixity and interest studiedat the precepts and definitions of the grammar of Dionysius Thrax, thenoted philologist. 

At the end of some minutes Quintus Drusus stood before him. 

The young Prænestian was covered with dust, was unkempt, ragged; hisstep was heavy, his arms hung wearily at his side, his head almostdrooped on his breast with exhaustion. But when he came into theImperator's presence, he straightened himself and tried to make agesture of salutation. Cæsar had risen from his chair. 

"Fools!" he cried, to the little group of slaves and soldiers, whowere crowding into the room, "do you bring me this worn-out man, whoneeds rest? Who dared this? Has he been refreshed as I commanded?"

"He would take nothing but some wine--" began Decimus. 

"I would have waited until morning, if necessary, before seeing him. Here!" and while Cæsar spoke he half led, half thrust, the messengerinto his own chair, and, anticipating the nimblest slave, unclaspedthe travel-soiled pænula from Drusus's shoulders. The young man triedto rise and shake off these ministrations, but the proconsul gentlyrestrained him. A single look sufficed to send all the curious retinuefrom the room. Only Antiochus remained, sitting on a stool in adistant corner. 

"And now, my friend, " said Cæsar, smiling, and drawing a chair closeup to that of Drusus, "tell me when it was that you left Rome. "

"Two days ago, " gasped the wearied messenger. 

"_Mehercle!_" cried the general, "a hundred and sixty miles in twodays! This is incredible! And you come alone?"

"I had Andræmon, the fastest horse in Rome. Antonius, Cælius, Cassius, Curio, and myself kept together as far as Clusium. There was no longerany danger of pursuit, no need for more than one to hasten. " Drusus'ssentences were coming in hot pants. "I rode ahead. Rode my horse dead. Took another at Arretium. And so I kept changing. And now--I am here. "And with this last utterance he stopped, gasping. 

Cæsar, instead of demanding the tidings from Rome, turned toAntiochus, and bade him bring a basin and perfumed water to washDrusus's feet. Meantime the young man had recovered his breath. 

"You have heard of the violence of the new consuls and how Antoniusand Cassius withstood them. On the seventh the end came. The vetoeswere set aside. Our protests were disregarded. The Senate has clothedthe consuls and other magistrates with dictatorial power; they areabout to make Lucius Domitius proconsul of Gaul. "

"And I?" asked Cæsar, for the first time displaying any personalinterest. 

"You, Imperator, must disband your army and return to Rome speedily, or be declared an outlaw, as Sertorius or Catilina was. "

"Ah!" and for a minute the proconsul sat motionless, while Drususagain kept silence. 

"But you--my friends--the tribunes?" demanded the general, "you spokeof danger; why was it that you fled?"

"We fled in slaves' dresses, O Cæsar, because otherwise we should longago have been strangled like bandits in the Tullianum. Lentulus Crusdrove us with threats from the Senate. On the bridge, but for thefavour of the gods, his lictors would have taken us. We were chased byPompeius's foot soldiers as far as Janiculum. We ran away from hiscavalry. If they hate us, your humble friends, so bitterly, how muchthe more must they hate you!"

"And the tribunes, and Curio, and Cælius are on their way hither?"asked Cæsar. 

"They will be here very soon. "

"That is well, " replied the proconsul; then, with a totally unexpectedturn, "Quintus Drusus, what do you advise me to do?"

"I--I advise, Imperator?" stammered the young man. 

"And who should advise, if not he who has ridden so hard and fast inmy service? Tell me, is there any hope of peace, of reconciliationwith Pompeius?"

"None. "

"Any chance that the senators will recover their senses, and propose areasonable compromise?"

"None. "

"Will not Cicero use his eloquence in the cause of peace and commonjustice?"

"I have seen him. He dare not open his mouth. "

"Ah!" and again Cæsar was silent, this time with a smile, perhaps ofscorn, playing around his mouth. 

"Are the people, the equites, given body and soul over to the warparty?"

Drusus nodded sadly. "So long as the consuls are in the ascendant, they need fear no revolution at home. The people are not at heart yourenemies, Imperator; but they will wait to be led by the winning side. "

"And you advise?"--pressed Cæsar, returning to the charge. 

"War!" replied Drusus, with all the rash emphasis of youth. 

"Young man, " said Cæsar, gravely, half sadly, "what you have said iseasy to utter. Do you know what war will mean?"

Drusus was silent. 

"Let us grant that our cause is most just. Even then, if we fight, wedestroy the Republic. If I conquer, it must be over the wreck of theCommonwealth. If Pompeius--on the same terms. I dare not harbour anyillusions. The state cannot endure the farce of another Sullianrestoration and reformation. A permanent government by one strong manwill be the only one practicable to save the world from anarchy. Haveyou realized that?"

"I only know, Imperator, " said Drusus, gloomily, "that no future statecan be worse than ours to-day, when the magistrates of the Republicare the most grievous despots. "

Cæsar shook his head. 

"You magnify your own wrongs and mine. If mere revenge prompts us, weare worse than Xerxes, or Sulla. The gods alone can tell us what isright. "

"The gods!" cried Drusus, half sunken though he was in a wearylethargy, "do you believe there are any gods?"

Cæsar threw back his head. "Not always; but at moments I do not_believe_ in them, I _know_! And now I _know_ that gods are guidingus!"

"Whither?" exclaimed the young man, starting from his wearydrowsiness. 

"I know not whither; neither do I care. Enough to be conscious thatthey guide us!"

And then, as though there was no pressing problem involving the peaceof the civilized world weighing upon him, the proconsul stood by inkind attention while Antiochus and an attendant bathed the weariedmessenger's feet before taking him away to rest. 

After Drusus had been carried to his room, Cæsar collected themanuscripts and tablets scattered about the apartment, methodicallyplaced them in the proper cases and presses, suffered himself to beundressed, and slept late into the following morning, as sweetly andsoundly as a little child. 

II

On the next day Cæsar called before him the thirteenth legion, --theonly force he had at Ravenna, --and from a pulpit in front of theprætorium he told them the story of what had happened at Rome; of howthe Senate had outraged the tribunes of the plebs, whom even theviolent Sulla had respected; of how the mighty oligarchy had outragedevery soldier in insulting their commander. Then Curio, just arrived, declaimed with indignant fervour of the violence and fury of theconsuls and Pompeius; and when he concluded, the veterans couldrestrain their ardour and devotion no more, five thousand martialthroats roared forth an oath of fealty, and as many swords were wavedon high in mad defiance to the Senate and the Magnus. Then cohortafter cohort cried out that on this campaign they would accept no pay;and the military tribunes and centurions pledged themselves, thisofficer for the support of two recruits, and that for three. 

It was a great personal triumph for Cæsar. He stood receiving thepledges and plaudits, and repaying each protestation of loyalty with afew gracious words, or smiles, that were worth fifty talents to eachacclaiming maniple. Drusus, who was standing back of the proconsul, beside Curio, realized that never before had he seen such outgoing ofmagnetism and personal energy from man to man, one mind holding invassalage five thousand. Yet it was all very quickly over. Almostwhile the plaudits of the centuries were rending the air, Cæsar turnedto the senior tribune of the legion. 

"Are your men ready for the march, officer?"

The soldier instantly fell into rigid military pose. "Ready thisinstant, Imperator. We have expected the order. "

"March to Ariminum, and take possession of the town. March rapidly. "

The tribune saluted, and stepped back among his cohort. And as if someconjurer had flourished a wand of magic, in the twinkling of an eyethe first century had formed in marching order; every legionary hadflung over his shoulder his shield and pack, and at the harsh blare ofthe military trumpet the whole legion fell into line; the aquiliferwith the bronze eagle, that had tossed on high in a score ofhard-fought fights, swung off at the head of the van; and away wentthe legion, a thing not of thinking flesh and blood, but of brass andiron--a machine that marched as readily and carelessly against theconsuls of the Roman Republic as against the wretched Gallicinsurgents. The body of troops--cohort after cohort--was vanishingdown the road in a cloud of dust, the pack train following after, almost before Drusus could realize that the order to advance had beengiven. 

Cæsar was still standing on the little pulpit before the prætorium. Except for Curio and Drusus, almost all the vast company that had butjust now been pressing about him with adulation and homage weredisappearing from sight. For an instant the Imperator seemed alone, stripped of all the panoply of his high estate. He stood watching thelegion until its dust-cloud settled behind some low-lying hills. Thenhe stepped down from the pulpit. Beyond a few menials and Drusus andthat young man's late comrade in danger, no one else was visible. Thetransaction had been so sudden as to have something of thephantasmagoric about it. 

Cæsar took his two friends, one by each hand, and led them back to hisprivate study in the prætorium. 

"The army is yours, Imperator, " said Curio, breaking a ratheroppressive silence. "The newest recruit is yours to the death. "

"Yes, to the death, " replied the general, abstractedly; and his keeneyes wandered down upon the mosaic, seemingly penetrating the stoneand seeking something hidden beneath. "The thirteenth legion, " hecontinued, "will do as a test of the loyalty of the others. They willnot fail me. The eighth and the twelfth will soon be over the Alps. Fabius is at Narbo with three. They will check Pompeius's Spaniards. Imust send to Trebonius for his four among the Belgæ; he is sendingFabius one. " And then, as if wearied by this recapitulation, Cæsar'seyes wandered off again to the pavement. 

Drusus had an uneasy sensation. What was this strange mingling ofenergy and listlessness? Why this soliloquy and internal debate, whenthe moment called for the most intense activity? The general beingstill silent, his friends did not venture to disturb him. ButAntiochus passed in and out of the study, gathering up writingmaterials, tablets, and books; and presently Drusus heard the freedmanbidding an underling have ready and packed the marble slabs used forthe tessellated floor of the Imperator's tent--a bit of luxury thatCæsar never denied himself while in the field. Presently the proconsulraised his eyes. He was smiling; there was not the least cloud on hisbrow. 

"There will be some public games here this afternoon, " he remarked, asthough the sole end in view was to make their stay pleasant to hisguests: "I have promised the good people of the town to act as_editor_, [152] and must not fail to honour them. Perhaps the sportwill amuse you, although the provincials cannot of course get suchgood lanista-trained men as you see at Rome. I have a new fencingschool in which perhaps we may find a few _threces_[153] and_retiarii_, [154] who will give some tolerable sword and net play. "

 [152] President of the games. 

 [153] Buckler and cutlass men. 

 [154] Net and trident men. 

"_Hei!_" groaned Curio, with a lugubrious whisper, "to think of it, Ihave never a sesterce left that I can call my own, to stake on thestruggle!"

"At least, " laughed Drusus, "I am a companion of your grief; alreadyLentulus and Ahenobarbus have been sharing my forfeited estate. "

But the proconsul looked serious and sad. 

"_Vah_, my friends! Would that I could say that your loyalty to mycause would cost you nothing! It is easy to promise to win back foryou everything you have abandoned, but as the poets say, 'All thatlies in the lap of the gods. ' But you shall not be any longer the mererecipients of my bounty. Stern work is before us. I need not ask youif you will play your part. You, Curio, shall have a proper place onmy staff of legates as soon as I have enough troops concentrated; butyou, my dear Drusus, what post would best reward you for your loyalty?Will you be a military tribune, and succeed your father?"

"Your kindness outruns your judgment, Imperator, " replied Drusus. "Save repelling Dumnorix and Ahenobarbus, I never struck a blow inanger. Small service would I be to you, and little glory would I winas an officer, when the meanest legionary knows much that I maylearn. "

"Then, amice, " said Cæsar, smiling, perhaps with the satisfaction of aman who knows when it is safe to make a gracious offer which he isaware will not be accepted, though none the less flattering, "if youwill thus misappraise yourself, you shall act as centurion for thepresent, on my corps of _prætoriani_, [155] where you will be amongfriends and comrades of your father, and be near my person if I haveany special need of you. "

 [155] General's body-guard of picked veterans. 

Drusus proffered the best thanks he could; it was a great honour--onealmost as great as a tribuneship, though hardly as responsible; and hefelt repaid for all the weariness of his desperate ride to Ravenna. 

And then, with another of those strange alternations of behaviour, Cæsar led him and Curio off to inspect the fencing-school; then showedthem his favourite horse, pointed out its peculiar toelike hoofs, andrelated merrily how when it was a young colt, a soothsayer hadpredicted that its owner would be master of the world, and howhe--Cæsar, --had broken its fiery spirit, and made it perfectly docile, although no other man could ride the beast. 

The afternoon wore on. Cæsar took his friends to the games, andwatched with all apparent interest the rather sanguinary contestsbetween the gladiators. Drusus noticed the effusive loyalty of theRavenna citizens, who shouted a tumultuous welcome to the illustrious_editor_, but Cæsar acted precisely as though the presidency of thesports were his most important office. Only his young admirer observedthat as often as a gladiator brought his opponent down and appealed tothe _editor_ for a decision on the life or death of the vanquished, Cæsar invariably waved his handkerchief, a sign of mercy, rather thanbrutally turned down his thumb, the sentence of death. After thegames, the proconsul interchanged personal greetings with the moreprominent townspeople. Drusus began to wonder whether the whole dayand evening were to pass in this manner; and indeed so it seemed, forthat night the Imperator dispensed his usual open-handed hospitality. His great banqueting hall contained indeed no army officers, but therewere an abundance of the provincial gentry. Cæsar dined apart with histwo friends. The courses went in and out. The proconsul continued anunceasing flow of light conversation: witty comments on Roman societyand fashion, scraps of literary lore, now and then a bit of personalreminiscence of Gaul. Drusus forgot all else in the agreeable pleasureof the moment. Presently Cæsar arose and mingled with his less exaltedguests; when he returned to the upper table the attendants werebringing on the beakers, and the Cisalpine provincials were pledgingone another in draughts of many _cyathi_, "prosperity to theproconsul, and confusion to his enemies. " Cæsar took a shallow glassof embossed blue and white bas-relief work, --a triumph of Alexandrianart, --poured into it a few drops of undiluted Cæcuban liquor, dasheddown the potion, then dropped the priceless beaker on to the floor. 

"An offering to Fortuna!" he cried, springing from his couch. "Myfriends, let us go!" And quietly leaving the table on the dais, thethree found themselves outside the banqueting hall, while theprovincials, unconscious that their host had departed, continued theirnoisy revelry. 

Drusus at once saw that everything was ready for departure. Antiochuswas at hand with travelling cloaks, and assured the young man that duecare had been taken to send in advance for him a complete wardrobe andoutfit. The proconsul evidently intended to waste no time in starting. Drusus realized by the tone of his voice that Cæsar the host hadvanished, and Cæsar the imperator was present. His words were terseand to the point. 

"Curio, you will find a fast horse awaiting you. Take it. Bide at fullspeed after the legion. Take command of the rear cohorts and of theothers as you come up with them. Lead rapidly to Ariminum. "

And Curio, who was a man of few words, when few were needed, salutedand disappeared in the darkness. Drusus followed the general out afterhim. But no saddle-horses were prepared for Cæsar. Antiochus and oneor two slaves were ready with lanterns, and led the general and Drususout of the gloomy cantonment, along a short stretch of road, to a millbuilding, where in the dim light of the last flickers of day could beseen a carriage with mules. 

"I have hired this as you wished, " said the freedman, briefly. 

"It is well, " responded his patron. 

Antiochus clambered upon the front seat; a stout German serving-manwas at the reins. Cæsar motioned to Drusus to sit beside him behind. There were a few necessaries in the carriage, but no other attendants, no luggage cart. The German shook the reins over the backs of the twomules, and admonished them in his barbarous native dialect. The dimshadow of the mill faded from sight; the lights of the prætorium grewdimmer and dimmer: soon nothing was to be seen outside the narrowcircle of pale light shed on the ground ahead by the lantern. 

The autumn season was well advanced. The day however had been warm. The night was sultry. There were no stars above, no moon, no wind. Asickening miasmic odour rose from the low flat country sloping offtoward the Adriatic--the smell of overripe fruit, of decayingvegetation, of the harvest grown old. There had been a drought, andnow the dust rose thick and heavy, making the mules and travellerscough, and the latter cover their faces. Out of the darkness came notthe least sound: save the creaking of the dead boughs on trees, whosedim tracery could just be distinguished against the sombre backgroundof the sky. 

No one spoke, unless the incoherent shouts of the German to the mulesbe termed speech. Antiochus and Cæsar were sunk in stupor or reverie. Drusus settled back on the cushions, closed his eyes, and bade himselfbelieve that it was all a dream. Six months ago he had been a studentat Athens, wandering with his friends along the trickling Cephissus, or climbing, in holiday sport, the marble cone of Hymettus. Andnow--he was a proscribed rebel! Enemies thirsted for his blood! He wasriding beside a man who made no disclaimer of his intention to subvertthe constitution! If Cæsar failed, he, Drusus, would share in "thatbad eminence" awarded by fame to the execrated Catilinarians. Wasit--was it not all a dream? Connected thought became impossible. Nowhe was in the dear old orchard at Præneste playing _micare_[156] withCornelia and Æmilia; now back in Athens, now in Rome. Poetry, prose, scraps of oratory, philosophy, and rules of rhetoric, --Latin and Greekinextricably intermixed, --ideas without the least possible connection, raced through his head. How long he thus drifted on in his reverie hemight not say. Perhaps he fell asleep, for the fatigue of hisextraordinary riding still wore on him. A cry from Antiochus, a cursefrom the German, startled him out of his stupor. He stared about. Itwas pitch dark. "The gods blast it!" Antiochus was bawling. "Thelantern has jolted out!"

 [156] A finger-guessing game. 

To relight it under existing circumstances, in an age when frictionmatches were unknown, was practically impossible. 

"Fellow, " said the proconsul's steady voice, "do you know the road toAriminum?"

The driver answered in his broken Latin that he was the slave of thestable keeper who had let the carriage, and had been often over theroad, but to go safely in the dark was more than he could vouch for. The only thing the German saw to be done was to wait in the road untilthe morning, or until the moon broke out through the clouds. 

"Drusus, " remarked the proconsul, "you are the youngest. Can your eyesmake out anything to tell us where we are?"

The young man yawned, shook off his drowsiness, and stared out intothe gloomy void. 

"I can just make out that to our left are tall trees, and I imagine athicket. "

"Very good. If you can see as much as that here, it is safe toproceed. Let us change places. I will take the reins. Do you, Drusus, come and direct me. "

"Oh! domine!" entreated Antiochus, "don't imperil yourself to-night!I'm sure some calamity impends before dawn. I consulted a soothsayerbefore setting out, and the dove which he examined had no heart--acertain sign of evil. "

"Rascal!" retorted his patron, "the omens will be more favourable whenI please. A beast wants a heart--no very great prodigy! men losetheirs very often, and think it slight disgrace. Change your seat, sirrah!"

Cæsar took the reins, smote the mules, and went off at so furious apace that the worthy Antiochus was soon busy invoking first one, thenanother, member of the pantheon, to avert disaster. Drusus speedilyfound that the general's vision was far more keen than his own. Indeed, although the road, he knew, was rough and crooked, they metwith no mishaps. Presently a light could be seen twinkling in thedistance. 

"We must get a guide, " remarked the Imperator decisively, and hestruck the mules again. 

They at last approached what the owl-like discernment of Cæsarpronounced to be a small farmhouse with a few out-buildings. But itwas no easy matter to arouse the drowsy countrymen, and a still moredifficult task to convince the good man of the house that hisnocturnal visitors were not brigands. At last it was explained thattwo gentlemen from Ravenna were bound for Ariminum, on urgentbusiness, and he must furnish a guide for which he would be amplypaid. As a result, the German driver at last resumed the reins, andsped away with a fresh lantern, and at his side a stupid peasant boy, who was almost too shy to make himself useful. 

But more misfortune was in store. Barely a mile had they traversed, before an ominous crack proclaimed the splitting of an axletree. Thecheap hired vehicle could go no farther. 

"'Tis a sure sign the gods are against our proceeding this night, "expostulated Antiochus; "let us walk back to the farmhouse, my lord. "

Cæsar did not deign to give him an answer. He deliberately descended, clasped his pænula over his shoulders, and bade the German make thebest of his way back to Ravenna. The peasant boy, he declared, couldlead them on foot until dawn. 

The freedman groaned, but he was helpless. The guide, bearing thelantern, convoyed them out of the highroad, to strike what he assuredthem was a less circuitous route; and soon had his travellers, nowplunged in quagmires that in daylight would have seemed impassable, now clambering over stocks and stones, now leaping broad ditches. Atlast, after thoroughly exhausting the patience of his companions, thewretched fellow confessed that he had missed the by-path, and indeeddid not know the way back. 

Antiochus was now too frightened to declare his warnings confirmed. Drusus liked the prospect of a halt on these swampy, miasmic fieldslittle enough, But again the proconsul was all resources. With almostomniscience he led his companions through blind mazes of fallow landand stubble fields: came upon a brook at the only point where thereappeared to be any stepping-stones; and at length, just as the murkyclouds seemed about to lift, and the first beams of the moon struggledout into the black chaos, the wanderers saw a multitude of firestwinkling before them, and knew that they had come upon the rearcohort of the thirteenth legion, on its way to Ariminum. 

The challenge of the sentry was met by a quick return of thewatchword, but the effusively loyal soldier was bidden to hold hispeace and not disturb his comrades. 

"What time is it?" inquired his general. The fellow replied it lackedone hour of morn. Cæsar skirted the sleeping camp, and soon came outagain on the highroad. There was a faint paleness in the east; asingle lark sang from out the mist of grey ether overhead; an ox ofthe baggage train rattled his tethering chain and bellowed. A soft, damp river fog touched on Drusus's face. Suddenly an early horseman, coming at a moderate gallop, was heard down the road. In thestillness, the pounding of his steed crept slowly nearer and nearer;then, as he was almost on them, came the hollow clatter of the hoofsupon the planks of a bridge. _Cæsar stopped. _ Drusus felt himselfclutched by the arm so tightly that the grasp almost meant pain. 

"Do you hear? Do you see?" muttered the Imperator's voice in his ear. "The bridge, the river--we have reached it!"

"Your excellency--" began Drusus, sorely at a loss. 

"No compliments, this is the Rubicon; the boundaries of Cisalpine Gauland Italy. On this side I am still the Proconsul--not as yet rightlydeposed. On the other--Cæsar, the Outlaw, the Insurgent, the Enemy ofhis Country, whose hand is against every man, every man's hand againsthim. What say you? Speak! speak quickly! Shall I cross? Shall I turnback?"

"Imperator, " said the young man, struggling to collect his wits andrealize the gravity of his own words, "if you did not intend to cross, why send the legion over to commence the invasion? Why harangue them, if you had no test to place upon their loyalty?"

"Because, " was his answer, "I would not through my own indecisionthrow away my chance to strike. But the troops can be recalled. It isnot too late. No blood has been shed. I am merely in a position tostrike if so I decide. No, --nothing is settled. "

Drusus had never felt greater embarrassment. Before he could makereply, Cæsar had bidden Antiochus and the peasant boy remain in theroadway, and had led the young man down the embankment that ransloping toward the river. The light was growing stronger every moment, though the mist still hung heavy and dank. Below their feet theslender stream--it was the end of the season--ran with a monotonousgurgle, now and then casting up a little fleck of foam, as it rolledby a small boulder in its bed. 

"Imperator, " said Drusus, while Cæsar pressed his hand tighter andtighter, "why advise with an inexperienced young man like myself? Whydid you send Curio away? I have no wisdom to offer; nor dare profferit, if such I had. "

"Quintus Drusus, " replied Cæsar, sinking rather wearily down upon thedry, dying grass, "if I had needed the counsel of a soldier, I shouldhave waited until Marcus Antonius arrived; if I had needed that of apolitician, I was a fool to send away Curio; if I desire the counselof one who is, as yet, neither a man of the camp, nor a man of theForum, but who can see things with clear eyes, can tell what may beneither glorious nor expedient, but what will be the will, "--and herethe Imperator hesitated, --"the will of the gods, tell me to whom Ishall go. "

Drusus was silent; the other continued;--

"Listen, Quintus Drusus. I do not believe in blind fate. We were notgiven wills only to have them broken. The function of a limb is not tobe maimed, nor severed from the body. A limb is to serve a man; justso a man and his actions are to serve the ends of a power higher andnobler than he. If he refuse to serve that power, he is like themortifying limb, --a thing of evil to be cut off. And this is true ofall of us; we all have some end to serve, we are not created for nopurpose. " Cæsar paused. When he began again it was in a different toneof voice. "I have brought you with me, because I know you areintelligent, are humane, love your country, and can make sacrificesfor her; because you are my friend and to a certain extent share mydestiny; because you are too young to have become overprejudiced, andcalloused to pet foibles and transgressions. Therefore I took you withme, having put off the final decision to the last possible instant. And now I desire your counsel. "

"How can I counsel peace!" replied Drusus, warming to a sense of thesituation. "Is not Italy in the hand of tyrants? Is not Pompeius thetool of coarse schemers? Do they not pray for proscriptions andconfiscations and abolition of debt? Will there be any peace, anyhappiness in life, so long as we call ourselves freemen, yet endurethe chains of a despotism worse than that of the Parthians?"

"Ah! amice!" said Cæsar, twisting the long limp grass, "every enemy isa tyrant, if he has the upper hand. Consider, what will the war be?Blood, the blood of the noblest Romans! The overturning oftime-honoured institutions! A shock that will make the world totremble, kings be laid low, cities annihilated! East, west, north, south--all involved--so great has our Roman world become!"

"And are there not wrongs, abuses, Imperator, which cry for vengeanceand for righting?" replied Drusus, vehemently. "Since the fall ofCarthage, have not the fears of Scipio Æmilianus almost come true:Troy has fallen, Carthage has fallen; has not Rome almost fallen, fallen not by the might of her enemies, but by the decay of hermorals, the degeneracy of her statesmen? What is the name of liberty, without the semblance! Is it liberty for a few mighty families toenrich themselves, while the Republic groans? Is it liberty for thelaw courts to have their price, for the provinces to be the farms of ahandful of nobles?"

Cæsar shook his head. 

"You do not know what you say. This is no moment for declamation. Every man has his own life to live, his own death to die. Ourintellects cannot assure us of any consciousness the instant thatbreath has left our bodies. It is then as if we had never hoped, hadnever feared; it is rest, peace. Quintus Drusus, I have dared manythings in my life. I defied Sulla; it was boyish impetuosity. I tookthe unpopular and perilous side when Catilina's confederates were sentto their deaths; it was the ardour of a young politician. I defied therage of the Senate, while I was prætor; still more hot madness. Ifaced death a thousand times in Gaul, against the Nervii, in thecampaign with Vercingetorix; all this was the mere courage of thecommon soldier. But it is not of death I am afraid; be it death on thefield of battle, or death at the hands of the executioner, should Ifall into the power of my enemies, I fear myself. 

"You ask me to explain?" went on the general, without pausing for aquestion. "Hearken! I am a man, you are a man, our enemies are men. Ihave slain a hundred thousand men in Gaul. Cruel? No, for had theylived the great designs which the deity wills to accomplish in thatcountry could not be executed! But then my mind was at rest. I said, 'Let these men die, ' and no Nemesis has required their blood at myhands. What profit these considerations? The Republic is nothing but aname, without substance or reality. It is doomed to fall. Sulla was afool to abdicate the dictatorship. Why did he not establish adespotism, and save us all this turmoil of politics? But LentulusCrus, Pompeius, Cato, Scipio--they are men with as much ambition, asmuch love of life, as myself. The Republic will fall into their hands. Why will it be worse off than in mine? Why shed rivers of blood? Afterdeath one knows no regrets. If I were dead, what would it matter to meif obloquy was imputed to my name, if my enemies triumphed, if theworld went to chaos over my grave. It would not mean so much as asingle evil dream in my perpetual slumber. "

Cæsar was no longer resting on the bank. He was pacing to and fro, with rapid, nervous steps, crushing the dry twigs under his shoes, pressing his hands together behind his back, knitting and unknittinghis fingers. 

Drusus knew enough to be aware that he was present as a spectator ofthat most terrible of all conflicts--a strong man's wrestle with hisown misgivings. To say something, to say anything, that would ease theshock of the contest--that was the young man's compelling desire; buthe felt as helpless as though he, single handed, confronted tenlegions. 

"But your friends, Imperator, " he faltered, "think of them! They havemade sacrifices for you. They trust in you. Do not abandon them totheir enemies!"

Cæsar stopped in his impetuous pacings. 

"Look here, " he exclaimed, almost fiercely, "you wish to be happy. Youare still very young; life is sweet. You have just forsaken wealth, friends, love, because you have a fantastic attachment for my cause. You will live to repent of your boyish decision. You will wish to winback all you have lost. Well, I will give you the chance; do what Itell you, and you shall ride into Rome the hero of Senate and people!The consuls will be to you all smiles. Pompeius will canvass for youif you desire to become a candidate for curule office before you reachthe legal age limit. Cicero will extol your name in an immortaloration, in which he will laud your deed above the slaying of thedangerous demagogue Mælius by Servilius Ahala. Will you do as I shallbid you?"

Drusus's eyes had been riveted on those of the general. He saw that atCæsar's side was girded a long slender dagger in an embossed silversheath. He saw the Imperator draw out the blade halfway, then pointoff into the river where the water ran sluggishly through a singledeep mist-shaded pool. 

"Do you understand?" went on Cæsar, as calmly as though he had beenexpounding a problem of metaphysics. "You can take this ring of mine, and by its aid go through the whole legion, and obtain the best horsesfor flight, before anything is discovered. Your conscience need nottrouble you. You will only have done as I earnestly requested. "

The cold sweat started to Drusus's forehead, his head swam; he knewthat it was more than the mist of the river-fog that drifted beforehis eyes. Then, filled with a sudden impulse, he sprang on the generaland wrenched the dagger from its sheath. 

"Here!" cried Cæsar, tearing back the mantle from his breast. 

"There!" cried Drusus, and the bright blade glinted once in the air, and splashed down into the dark ripple. He caught the Imperator aboutthe arms, and flung his head on the other's neck. 

"Oh! Imperator, " he cried, "do not desert us. Do not desert theCommonwealth! Do not hand us back to new ruin, new tyrants, new wars!Strike, strike, and so be merciful! Surely the gods have not led youthus far, and no farther! But yesterday you said they were leading us. To-day they still must guide! To you it has been given to pull downand to build up. Fail not! If there be gods, trust in them! If therebe none slay me first, then do whatever you will!"

Cæsar shook himself. His voice was harsh with command. 

"Unhand me! I must accomplish my own fate!" and then, in a totallydifferent tone, "Quintus Drusus, I have been a coward for the firsttime in my life. Are you ashamed of your general?"

"I never admired you more, Imperator. "

"Thank you. And will you go aside a little, please? I will need a fewmoments for meditation. "

Drusus hesitated. His eyes wandered off to the river. In one spot itwas quite deep. 

"_Phui!_" said the proconsul, carelessly, "I am too brave for such aventure now. Leave me on my embankment, like Diogenes and his tub. "

Drusus clambered part way up the slope, and seated himself under astunted oak tree. The light was growing stronger. The east wasovershot with ripples of crimson and orange, here blending into lineseach more gorgeous than a moment before. The wind was chasing in fromthe bosom of Adria, and driving the fleeting mists up the littlevalley. The hills were springing out of the gloom, the thrushes wereswinging in the boughs overhead, and pouring out their morning song. Out from the camp the bugles were calling the soldiers for the march;the baggage trains were rumbling over the bridge. But still below onthe marge lingered the solitary figure; now walking, now motionless, now silent, now speaking in indistinct monologue. Drusus overheardonly an occasional word, "Pompeius, poor tool of knaves! I pity him! Imust show mercy to Cato if I can! Sulla is not to be imitated! TheRepublic is fallen; what I put in its place must not fall. " Then, after a long pause, "So this was to be my end in life--to destroy theCommonwealth; what is destined, is destined!" And a moment laterDrusus saw the general coming up the embankment. 

"We shall find horses, I think, a little way over the bridge, " saidCæsar; "the sun is nearly risen. It is nine miles to Ariminum; therewe can find refreshment. "

The Imperator's brow was clear, his step elastic, the fatigues of thenight seemed to have only added to his vigorous good humour. Antiochusmet them. The good man evidently was relieved of a load of anxiety. The three approached the bridge; as they did so, a little knot ofofficers of the rear cohort, Asinius Pollio and others, rode up andsaluted. The golden rim of the sun was just glittering above theeastern lowlands. Cæsar put foot upon the bridge. Drusus saw the bloodrecede from his face, his muscles contract, his frame quiver. Thegeneral turned to his officers. 

"Gentlemen, " he said quietly, "we may still retreat; but if we oncepass this little bridge, nothing is left for us but to fight it out inarms. "

The group was silent, each waiting for the other to speak. At thisinstant a mountebank piper sitting by the roadway struck up his ditty, and a few idle soldiers and wayfaring shepherds ran up to him to catchthe music. The man flung down his pipe, snatched a trumpet from abugler, and, springing up, blew a shrill blast. It was the "advance. "Cæsar turned again to his officers. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "let us go where the omens of the gods and theiniquity of our enemies call us! _The die is now cast!"_

And he strode over the bridge, looking neither to the right hand norto the left. As his feet touched the dust of the road beyond, the fullsun touched the horizon, the landscape was bathed with living, quivering gold, and the brightness shed itself over the steadfastcountenance, not of Cæsar the Proconsul, but of Cæsar the Insurgent. 

The Rubicon was crossed!

Chapter XVII

The Profitable Career of Gabinius

Very wretched had been the remnants of Dumnorix's band of gladiators, when nightfall had covered them from pursuit by the enragedPrænestians. And for some days the defeated assassins led a desperatestruggle for existence on the uplands above the Latin plain. Then, when the hue and cry aroused by their mad exploit had died away, Dumnorix was able to reorganize his men into a regular horde ofbanditti. In the sheltered valleys of the upper Apennines they foundmoderately safe and comfortable fastnesses, and soon around themgathered a number of unattached highwaymen, who sought protection andprofit in allying themselves with the band led by the redoubtablelanista. But if Dumnorix was the right arm of this noble company, Publius Gabinius was its head. The Roman had sorely missed the loss ofthe thousand and one luxuries that made his former life worth living. But, as has been said, he had become sated with almost every currentamusement and vice; and when the freshness of the physical hardshipsof his new career was over, he discovered that he had just begun totaste joys of which he would not soon grow weary. 

And so for a while the bandits ranged over the mountains, infested theroads, stopped travellers to ease them of their purses, or even dasheddown on outlying country houses, which they plundered, and leftburning as beacons of their handiwork. Even this occupation after atime, however, grew monotonous to Gabinius. To be sure, a goodly pileof money was accumulating in the hut where he and Dumnorix, hisfellow-leader, made their headquarters; and the bandits carried awaywith them to their stronghold a number of slave and peasant girls, whoaided to make the camp the scene of enough riot and orgy to satisfythe most graceless; but Gabinius had higher ambitions than these. Hecould not spend the gold on dinner parties, or bronze statuettes; andthe maidens picked up in the country made a poor contrast to his citysweethearts. Gabinius was planning a great piece of _finesse_. He hadnot forgotten Fabia; least of all had he forgotten how he had had heras it were in his very arms, and let her vanish from him as though shehad been a "shade" of thin air. If he must be a bandit, he would be anoriginal one. A Vestal taken captive by robbers! A Vestal imprisonedin the hold of banditti, forced to become the consort, lawful orunlawful, of the brigands' chief! The very thought grew and grew inGabinius's imagination, until he could think of little else. Dumnorixand his comrades trusted him almost implicitly; he had been successfulas their schemer and leader in several dark enterprises, that provedhis craft if not his valour. He would not fail in this. 

An overmastering influence was drawing him to Rome. He took one or twofellow-spirits in his company, and ventured over hill and valley tothe suburbs of the city on a reconnoissance, while by night heventured inside the walls. 

The capital he found in the ferment that preceded the expulsion of thetribunes, on the fateful seventh of January. Along with many anotherevil-doer, he and his followers filched more than one wallet duringthe commotions and tumults. He dared not show himself very openly. Hiscrime had been too notorious to be passed over, even if committedagainst a doomed Cæsarian like Drusus; besides, he was utterly withoutany political influence that would stand him in good stead. But aroundthe Atrium Vestæ he lurked in the dark, spying out the land andwaiting for a glimpse of Fabia. Once only his eye caught a white-robedstately figure appearing in the doorway toward evening, a figure whichinstinct told him was the object of his passion. He had to restrainhimself, or he would have thrown off all concealment then and there, and snatched her away in his arms. He saved himself that folly, buthis quest seemed hopeless. However weak the patrol in other parts ofthe city, there was always an ample watch around the Atrium Vestæ. 

Gabinius saw that his stay around Rome was only likely to bring himinto the clutches of the law, and reluctantly he started back, by anight journey in a stolen wagon, for the safer hill country beyond theAnio. But he was not utterly cast down. He had overheard the streettalk of two equites, whom in more happy days he had known as risingpoliticians. 

"I hope the consuls are right, " the first had said, "that Cæsar's armywill desert him. "

"_Perpol_, " responded the other, "your wish is mine! If the proconsulreally _does_ advance, nothing will stand between him and the city!"

Gabinius kept his own counsel. "In times of war and confusion, theextremity of the many is the opportunity of the few, " was the maxim herepeated to himself. 

When he was well out of the city and moving up the Via Salaria, thetrot and rattle of an approaching carriage drifted up upon him. 

"Shall we stop and strip them?" asked Dromo, one of the accompanyingbrigands, in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Ay, " responded Gabinius, reining in his own plodding draught-horse, and pulling out a short sword. "Let us take what the Fates send!"

A moment later and Servius Flaccus was being tumbled out of hiscomfortable travelling carriage, while one brigand stood guard overhim with drawn sabre, a second held at bay his trembling driver andwhimpering valet, and a third rifled his own person and hisconveyance. There was a bright moon, and the luckless traveller's gazefastened itself on the third bandit. 

"By all the gods, Gabinius!" cried Servius, forgetting to lisp hisGreekisms, "don't you know me? Let me go, for old friendship's sake!"

Gabinius turned from his task, and held to his nose a glassscent-bottle he had found in the vehicle. 

"Ah! amice, " he responded deliberately, "I really did not anticipatethe pleasure of meeting you thus! You are returning very late to Romefrom your Fidenæ villa. But this is very excellent oil of rose!"

"Enough of this, man!" expostulated the other. "The jest has gonequite far enough. Make this horrible fellow lower that sword. "

"Not until I have finished making up my package of little articles, "replied Gabinius, "and, " suiting the action to the word, "relievedyour fingers of the weight of those very heavy rings. "

"Gabinius, " roared Servius, in impotent fury, "what are you doing? Areyou a common bandit?"

"A bandit, my excellent friend, " was his answer, "but not a commonone; no ordinary footpad could strip the noble Servius Flaccus withouta harder struggle. "

Servius burst into lamentations. 

"My box of unguents! My precious rings! My money-bag! You are notleaving me one valuable! Have you sunk as low as this?"

"Really, " returned the robber, "I have no time to convince you thatthe brigand's life is the only one worth living. You do not care tojoin our illustrious brotherhood? No? Well, I must put these trinketsand fat little wallet in my own wagon. I leave you your cloak out ofold friendship's sake. Really you must not blame me. RememberEuripides's line:--

 "'Money can warp the judgment of a God. '

Thus I err in good company. And with this, _vale!_"

Flaccus was left with his menials to clamber back into his plunderedcarriage. Gabinius drove his horse at topmost speed, and beforemorning was saluted by the remainder of the banditti, near theirmountain stronghold. Dumnorix met him with news. 

"It is rumoured in the country towns that Cæsar is driving all beforehim in the north, and will be down on Rome in less days than I havefingers. "

Gabinius clapped his hands. 

"And we will be down on Rome, and away from it, before a legionaryshows himself at the gates!"

Chapter XVIII

How Pompeius Stamped with His Feet

I

A messenger to the consuls! He had ridden fast and furious, his horsewas flecked with foam and straining on his last burst of speed. Onover the Mulvian Bridge he thundered; on across the Campus Martius; onto the Porta Ratumena--with all the hucksters and street rabblehowling and chasing at his heels. 

"News! News for the consuls!"

"What news?" howled old Læca, who was never backward in a streetpress. 

"Terrible!" shouted the messenger, drawing rein, "Cæsar is sweepingall before him! All Thermus's troops have deserted him at Iguvium. Attius Varus has evacuated Auximum, and his troops too have dispersed, or joined Cæsar. All the towns are declaring for the enemy. _Vah!_ Hewill be here in a few days at most! I am the last of the relay withthe news. I have hardly breathed from Eretum!"

And the courier plunged the spur into his hard-driven mount, andforced his way into the city, through the mob. "Cæsar advancing onRome!" The Jewish pedlers took up the tale, and carried it to theremotest tenement houses of Janiculum. The lazy street-idlers shoutedit shrilly. Læca, catching sight of Lucius Ahenobarbus, just back fromBaiæ, and a little knot of kindred spirits about him, was in aninstant pouring it all in their ears. The news spread, flew, grew. Thebankers on the Via Sacra closed their credit books, raised theirshutters, and sent trusted clerks off to suburban villas, with dueorders how to bury and hide weighty money-bags. The news came to thatvery noble lady Claudia, sister-in-law of the consul, just at themoment when she was discussing the latest style of hairdressing withthe most excellent Herennia; and the cheeks of those patrician ladiesgrew pale, and they forgot whether or not it was proper to wear ivorypins or a jewel-set head-band, at the dinner-party of Lucius Piso thatevening. The news came to Lentulus Crus while he was wrangling withDomitius as to who should be Cæsar's successor as PontifexMaximus--and those distinguished statesmen found other things to thinkof. 

The news flew and grew. The noble senators overheard their slaveswhispering, --how it was rumoured on the street or in the Forum thatCæsar was in full advance on the city, that his cavalry were close tothe gates. Cæsar at the gates! Why had they not remembered how rapidlyhe could advance? Why had they trusted the assurance of the traitorLabienus that the legions would desert their Imperator? Resist? Bywhat means? The walls were walls only in name; the city had longoutgrown them, spreading through a thousand breaches. There was not atrained soldier this side of Capua, whither Pompeius had departed onlythe day before to take command of the Apulian legions. Cæsar wascoming! Cæsar--whose tribunes the oligarchs had chased from theSenate! Cæsar--whom they had proclaimed a rebel and public enemy! Hewas coming like a second Marius, who thirty-eight years before hadswept down on Rome, and taken a terrible vengeance on enemies lessbitter to him than they to the great Julian. "_Moriendum est_, "[157]had been the only reply to every plea for mercy. And would Cæsar nowbe more lenient to those who had aimed to blast his honour and shedhis blood?

 [157] He has got to die. 

Evening drew on, but the calamity was only delayed. There was not asoldier to confront the invader. Few men that night could sleep. Richand poor alike, all trembled. To their imaginations their foe was anogre, implacable, unsparing. "Remember how it was in Sulla's day, "croaked Læca to Ahenobarbus. "Remember how he proscribed fortysenators and sixteen hundred equites with one stroke. A fine examplefor Cæsar! And Drusus, who is with the rebels, is little likely to saya good word in your behalf, eh?"

"The gods blast your tongue!" cried the young man, wringing his handsin terror; for that Drusus would ruin him, if he gained the chance, Lucius had not the least doubt in the world. 

So passed the night, in fear and panic. When morning came everythingsave flight seemed suicide. There was a great government treasure inthe Temple of Saturn. The Senate had voted that the money be deliveredto Pompeius. But the consuls were too demoralized to take away adenarius. They left the great hoard under mere lock and key--a presentto their bitterest enemy. Then began the great exodus. Hardly a manhad done more than gather a few valuables together: property, children, wives--all these were left to the avenger. Down the ViaAppia, toward Campania, where was their only safety, poured thepanic-stricken company. Every carriage, every horse, was in service. The hard-driven chariots of the consuls were the tokens merely of theswiftest flight. Lentulus Crus fled; Caius Marcellus, his colleague, was close behind; Domitius fled, with his sons; Cato fled, ironicallyexclaiming that they would have to leave everything to Pompeius now, "for those who can raise up great evils can best allay them. " Favoniusfled, whose first words, when he met the Magnus, were to command himto "stamp on the ground for the legions so sorely needed. " Piso, Scipio, and many another fled--their guilty hearts adding wings totheir goings. Cicero fled--gazing in cynical disgust at the panic andincompetence, yet with a sword of Damocles, as he believed, hangingover his head also. "I fear that Cæsar will be a very Phalaris, andthat we may expect the very worst, " he wrote to his intimate friendAtticus, who, safe from harm and turmoil, was dwelling under the calmAthenian sky. A great fraction of the Senate departed; only thosestayed who felt that their loyalty to the advancing Imperator wasbeyond dispute, or who deemed themselves too insignificant to fallbeneath his displeasure. In the hour of crisis the old ties ofreligion and superstition reasserted themselves. Senators andmagistrates, who had deemed it a polite avocation to mock at the godsand deny the existence of any absolute ethical standards, now, beforethey climbed into their carriages for flight, went, with due ritual, into the temples of the gods of their fathers, and swore hecatombs ofmilk-white Umbrian steers to Capitoline Jove, if the awful deity wouldrestore them to the native land they then were quitting. And as theywent down from the temples and hastened toward the gates, friends andclients who could not join their flight crowded after them, sighing, lamenting, and moaning. Out over the Campagna they streamed, thiscompany of senators, prætors, consuls--men who had voted thrones tokings, and decreed the deposition of monarchs; whose personal wealthwas princely, whose lineage the noblest in the world, whose ancestorshad beaten down Etruscan, Gaul, Samnite, and Carthaginian, that theirposterity might enjoy the glory of unequalled empire. And thesedescendants fled, fled not before any foe, but before their own guiltyconsciences; abandoning the city of their fathers when not a sword hadflashed against her gates! The war had been of their making; to sendCæsar into outlawry the aristocracy had laboured ten long years. Andnow the noble lords were exiles, wanderers among the nations. To Capuathey went, to find small comfort there, and thence to join Pompeius infurther flight beyond the seas to Greece. But we anticipate. Enoughthat neither Lentulus Crus, nor Domitius, nor Cato, nor the greatMagnus himself, ever saw Rome again. 

II

Agias stood in a shop by the Sacred Way watching the stream offugitives pouring down toward the Porta Capena. At his side was aperson whom a glance proclaimed to be a fellow-Greek. The stranger wasperhaps fifty, his frame presented a faultless picture of symmetry andmanly vigour, great of stature, the limbs large but not ungainly. Hisfeatures were regular, but possessed just enough prominence to makethem free from the least tinge of weakness. The Greek's long, thick, dark but grey-streaked beard streamed down upon his breast; his hair, of similar hue, was long, and tossed back over his shoulders in loosecurls. His dress was rich, yet rude, his chiton and cloak short, butof choice Milesian wool and dyed scarlet and purple; around his neckdangled a very heavy gold chain set with conspicuously blazing jewels. The ankles, however, were bare, and the sandals of the slightest andmeanest description. The stranger must once have been of a light, notto say fair, complexion; but cheeks, throat, arms, and feet were alldeeply bronzed, evidently by prolonged exposure to wind and weather. Agias and his companion watched the throng of panic-struck exiles. Theyounger Greek was pointing out, with the complacency of familiarknowledge, the names and dignities of the illustrious fugitives. 

"Yonder goes Cato, " he was saying; "mark his bitter scowl! There goesMarcus Marcellus, the consular. There drives the chariot of LuciusDomitius, Cæsar's great enemy. " And Agias stopped, for his friend hadseized his arm with a sudden grasp, crushing as iron. "Why, by allthe gods, Demetrius, why are you staring at him that way?"

"By Zeus!" muttered the other, "if I had only my sword! It would beeasy to stab him, and then escape in this crowd!"

"Stab him!" cried Agias. "Demetrius, good cousin, control yourself. You are not on the deck of your trireme, with all your men about you. Why should you be thus sanguinary, when you see Lucius Domitius? Whyhate him more than any other Roman?"

The consular, unaware of the threat against him, but with a compellingfear of Cæsar's Gallic cavalry lending strength to the arm with whichhe plied the whip--for the law against driving inside the city no manrespected that day--whirled out of sight. 

Demetrius still strained at his cousin's arm. 

"Listen, Agias, " he said, still hoarsely. "Only yesterday I ran uponyou by chance in the crowd. We have many things to tell one another, chiefly I to tell you. Why do I hate Lucius Domitius? Why should youhate him? Who made you a slave and me an outlaw? Your father diedbankrupt; you know it was said that Philias, his partner, ruined him. That was truth, but not the whole truth. Philias was under deepobligations to a certain Roman then in the East, who knew of severalcrimes Philias had committed, crimes that would bring him to the crossif discovered. Do you understand?"

"Hardly, " said Agias, still bewildered. "I was very young then. "

"I will go on. It was shortly before Pompeius returned to Rome fromthe East. Your father had charge of the banking firm in Alexandria, Philias of the branch at Antioch. I was a clerk in the Antiochbanking-house. I knew that Philias was misusing his partner's name andcredit. The Roman whom I have mentioned knew it too, and had a suppleGreek confidant who shared his spoils and gave the touches to hisschemes. He had good cause to know: he was levying blackmail onPhilias. At last a crisis came; the defalcation could be concealed nolonger. Philias was duly punished; he was less guilty than he seemed. But the Roman--who had forced from him the money--he was high on thestaff of the proconsul--let his confederate and tool suffer for hisown fault. He kept his peace. I would not have kept mine; I would nothave let the real ruiner of my uncle escape. But the Roman had meseized, with the aid of his Greek ally; he charged me with treasonablecorrespondence with the Parthians. He, through his influence with theproconsul, had me bound to the oar as a galley slave for life. I wouldhave been executed but for another Roman, of the governor's suite, whowas my friend. He pleaded for my life; he believed me innocent. Hesaved my life--on what terms! But that is not all he did. He bribed myguards; I escaped and turned outlaw. I joined the last remnants of theCilician pirates, the few free mariners who have survived Pompeius'sraid. And here I am in Rome with one of my ships, disguised as atrader, riding at the river wharf. "

"And the name of the Roman who ruined you and my father?" said Agias. 

"Was Lucius Domitius. The friend who saved me was Sextus Drusus, sonof Marcus Drusus, the reformer. And if I do not recompense them bothas they deserve, I am not Demetrius the pirate, captain of sevenships!"

"You will never recompense Sextus Drusus, " remarked Agias, quietly. "He has been dead, slain in Gaul, these five years. "

"Such is the will of the gods, " said Demetrius, looking down. 

"But he has left a son. "

"Ah! What sort of a man?"

"The noblest of all noble Romans. He is the Quintus Drusus who savedmy life, as last night I told you. "

"Mithras be praised! The name is so common among these Latins that Idid not imagine any connection when you mentioned it. What can I do toserve him?"

"Immediately, nothing. He is with Cæsar, and, as you see, the enemiesof the Imperator are not likely, at present, to work his friends muchmischief. Yet it is singular that his chief enemy and yours are sonear akin. Lucius Ahenobarbus, son of Domitius, is thirsting forDrusus's blood. "

"If I had my sword!" muttered Demetrius, clapping his hand to histhigh. "It is not too late to run after the fugitives!"

"Come, come, " remonstrated Agias, feeling that his newly found cousinwas indeed a fearful and wonderful man after twelve years of lawlessand godless freebooter's life. "At my lodgings we will talk it allover; and there will be time enough to scheme the undoing of Domitiusand all his family. "

And with these words he led the sanguinary sea-king away. 

 * * * * *

Agias indeed found in Demetrius a perfect mine of bloody romance andadventure. It had been the banking clerk's misfortune, not his fault, that every man's hand had been against him and his against every man. Demetrius had been declared an outlaw to Roman authority; and Romanauthority at that time stretched over very nearly every quarter of thecivilized world. Demetrius had been to India, to intercept the Red Seatraders. He had been beyond the Pillars of Hercules and set foot onthose then half-mythical islands of the Canaries. He had plundered ahundred merchantmen; he had fought a score of Roman governmentgalleys; he had been principal or accessory to the taking of tenthousand lives. All this had been forced upon him, because there wasno tolerable spot on the planet where he might settle down and be freefrom the grasp of punishment for a crime he had never committed. 

Demetrius had boldly come up to Rome on a light undecked yacht. [158]The harbor masters had been given to understand that the captain ofthe craft was an Asiatic princeling, who was visiting the capital ofthe world out of a quite legitimate curiosity. If they had had anydoubts, they accepted extremely large fees and said nothing. The realobject of the venture was to dispose of a large collection of raregems and other valuables that Demetrius had collected in the course ofhis wanderings. Despite the perturbed state of the city, the worthypirate had had little difficulty in arranging with certain wealthyjewellers, who asked no questions, when they bought, at a very largediscount, bargains of a most satisfactory character. And so it came topass, by the merest luck, that the two cousins were thrown together ina crowd, and partly Agias, through his dim childish recollections ofhis unfortunate relative, and partly Demetrius, through memories ofhis uncle's boy and the close resemblance of the lad to his father, had been prompted first to conversation, then to mutual inquiries, then to recognition. 

 [158] A _celox_ of one bank of oars, a small ship much used by the pirates. 

Demetrius had no intention of leaving Rome for a few days. Underexisting circumstances the chances of his arrest were not worthconsidering. His cousin was eager to show him all the sights; and thefreebooter was glad of a little relaxation from his roving life, gladto forget for an instant that his country was his squadron, his rightsat law were his cutlass. Moreover, he had taken a vast liking toAgias; deeply dipped in blood himself, he dared not desire his cousinto join him in his career of violence--yet he could not part with thebright, genial lad so hastily. Agias needed no entreaties, therefore, to induce his cousin to enjoy his hospitality. 

III

Fabia the Vestal was in direful perplexity. Her heart had gone withDrusus in his flight to Ravenna; she had wished herself beside him, tobe a man, able to fight a man's battles and win a man's glory. For thefirst time in her life the quiet routine of the Temple service broughther no contentment; for the first time she felt herself bound to acareer that could not satisfy. She was restless and moody. The youngerVestals, whose attendance on the sacred fire and care of the Templeshe oversaw, wondered at her exacting petulance. Little Livia broughther aunt to her senses, by asking why she, Fabia, did not love her anymore. The lady summoned all her strength of character, and resumed heroutward placidity. She knew that Drusus was safe with Cæsar, andexposed only to the ordinary chances of war. She became more at easeas each successive messenger came into the city, bearing the tidingsof the Gallic proconsul's advance. Too innocent herself of thepolitical turmoils of the day to decide upon the merits of theparties, her hopes and wishes had gone with those of her nephew; sopure and unquestioning was her belief that he would espouse only theright. And when the great panic came; when trembling consulars andpallid magistrates rushed to the Temple of Vesta to proffer their lasthurried vows, before speeding away to Capua, their refuge; Fabia stoodall day beside the altar, stately, gracious, yet awe-inspiring, thefitting personification of the benignant Hearth Goddess, who was abovethe petty passions of mortals and granted to each an impartial favour. 

Yet Fabia was sorely distressed, and that too on the very day of thegreat exodus of the Senate. She had heard for some time past rumoursof the depredations of a certain band of robbers upon the Sabine andÆquian country. It was said that a gang of bandits, headed by agigantic Gaul, had plundered some farms near Carsioli and infested themountain regions round about. Fabia had connected this gang and itschieftain with Dumnorix and the remnant of his gladiators, who escapedafter their disastrous affray at Præneste. As for Publius Gabinius, who had on one occasion given her such distress, nothing had beenheard or seen of him since the Præneste affair. It was generallybelieved, however, that he was still with Dumnorix. And a few daysbefore the panic in the city, Fabia had received a letter. A strangeslave had left it at the Atrium Vestæ, and had gone away withoutexplanations. It ran thus:--

"To the very noble Vestal, the Lady Fabia, greeting:--

Though I am now so unfortunate as to be barred from the doors of alllaw-abiding men, do not imagine this will forever continue. In theconfusion and readjustments of war, and the calamities of many, theaffairs of some, one time enemies of Fortune, come to a happy issue. Do not say that Mars may not lead Amor and Hymen in his train. Allthings come to them who wait. I wait. Remember the life you spend inthe Temple is no longer obligatory. Be no cage bird who will not flyout into the sunlight when the door is opened freely. Be surprised andangry at nothing. _Vale_. "

There was no date, no signature. The hand was distorted, evidently fordisguise. Fabia was in a dilemma. She did not need to be told that inall probability--though she had no proof--the writer was Gabinius. Shewas extremely reluctant to tell any one of her escape from hisclutches in the villa by the Appian Way. However, some confidantseemed necessary. She knew that Fonteia, the senior Vestal, theMaxima, would never treat her other than as a sister, and to her sheread the letter and imparted her story and fears. Fonteia did notregard the matter in a very serious light. She was herself an oldwoman, grown grey in the service of Vesta. She said that Fabia hadbeen most fortunate to remain in the Temple service so long as she hadand not be harassed by more than one impious and overbold suitor. Theonly thing to do was to be careful and avoid anything that would givefalse appearances. As for Fabia's fears that Gabinius would attempt tocarry her away perforce, as he had perhaps treated earliersweethearts, Fonteia scoffed at the suggestion. The Atrium Vestæ wasin the heart of the city; there was a constant patrol on duty. For aman to enter the Building at night meant the death penalty. Whosoeverdid violence to a Vestal fell under a religious curse; he was a _homosacer_, a "sacred man, " a victim devoted to the gods, whom it was apious deed to slay. And thus comforted, with the assurance that thewhole power of the Republic would rise for her personal defence, Fabiawas fain to put the disquieting letter from her heart. 

Then followed the night of panic, and the succeeding day. There wereno longer any magistrates in Rome. The great palaces of the patriciansstood deserted, exposed to the unfaithful guardianship of freedmen andslaves. The bankers' booths were closed, the shops did not raise theirshutters. On the streets swarmed the irresponsible and the vicious. Men of property who had not fled barred their doors and stood guardwith their servants to beat back would-be plunderers. There were nowatchmen at the gates, no courts sitting in the basilicas. After thegreat flight of the early morning, Rome was a city without warders, police, or government. 

Fabia did not realize this fact until late in the afternoon, when shestarted forth, on foot and unattended, to visit a friend on theCælian. The half-deserted streets and barricaded houses filled herwith uneasy tremors. The low, brutish creatures that she met gave herlittle heed; but the sight of them, alone and not offset by any morerespectable fellow-strollers, made her turn back to the Atrium Vestæ. As she hastened on her way homeward an uneasy sensation haunted herthat she was being followed. She halted, faced about. The street wasnarrow, the light was beginning to fade. The figure of a man wasvanishing in the booth of some bold vintner, who had ventured to riskplunder for the sake of sales. She proceeded. A moment later a halfglance over the shoulder and a straining of the eyes told her that thestranger was continuing his pursuit. He kept very close to the side ofthe buildings. His face and form were quite lost in shadow. Fabiaquickened her pace; the stranger increased his also, yet made noeffort to cut down the distance between them. The Vestal began to feelthe blood mantling to her cheeks and leaving them again. She was sonear to the Forum and the Atrium Vestæ now that she could not beovertaken. But why did the stranger follow?

There was a gap in the houses ahead. Through a narrow alley the dyinglight was streaming. Fabia passed it, timed herself, glanced back. Foran instant, and only an instant (for the stranger walked rapidly), thelight glared full upon his face. But Fabia needed to see no more. Itwas the face of Publius Gabinius. By a mighty effort she preventedherself from breaking into a run. She passed into the doorway of theAtrium Vestæ, and sank upon a divan, shivering with fright. Recollecting herself, she went to Fonteia and told her the discovery. The Maxima, however, by that singular fatuity which sometimes takespossession of the wisest of people, --especially when the possibledanger is one which never in all their long experience has come to ahead, --received her warnings with blank incredulity. 

"You should not go out of the house and Temple, " she said, "untilthere is some proper policing of the city. No doubt Gabinius has comeback for the sake of riot and plunder, and having met with you bychance could not resist the temptation to try to have an interview;but you are in no possible danger here. "

"But, Fonteia, " urged the younger Vestal, "I know him to be a bold, desperate man, who fears not the gods, and who from the law can expectno mercy. And we in this house are but weak women folk. Our onlydefence is our purity and the reverence of the people. But only theevil wander the streets to-night; and our virtuous lives make us onlythe more attractive prey to such men as Gabinius. "

"Fabia, " said the other Vestal, severely, "I am older than you. I havebeheld sights you have never seen. I saw the riots when Saturninus andGlaucia came to their ends; when Marius was chased from Rome andSulpicius put to death; when Marius returned with Cinna; and all themassacres and strife attending the taking of the city by Sulla. Butnever has the name of Vesta been insufficient to protect us from theviolence of the basest or the most godless. Nor will it now. I willtrust in the goddess, and the fear of her, which protects her maidensagainst all men. We will sleep to-night as usual. I will not sendanywhere to have guards stationed around the house and Temple. "

Fabia bowed her head. The word of the aged Maxima was law in thelittle community. Fabia told herself that Fonteia was right--not evenGabinius would dare to set unhallowed foot inside the Atrium Vestæ. But the vision of the coarse, sensual face of her unloved lover wasever before her. In ordinary times she would have been tempted to goto one of the consuls and demand that Fonteia be overruled; but inordinary times there would not have been the least need of adding tothe already sufficient city watch. It lacked four hours of midnightbefore she brought herself to take her tablets and write the followingbrief note:--

"Fabia the Vestal to Agias her good friend, greeting. I am in someanxiety to-night. Gabinius, Lucius Ahenobarbus's friend, is in thecity. He means, I fear, to work me some mischief, though the causewhereby I have good reason to dread him is too long here to write. TheAtrium Vestæ has nothing to protect it to-night--as you well mayunderstand--from impious, violent men. Can you not guard me overnight?I do not know how. Gabinius may have all Dumnorix's band with him. Butyou alone are equal to an host. I trust you, as Drusus and Corneliahave trusted you. _Vale_. "

Fabia called one of the young slave-girls who waited on the Vestals. The relation between servant and mistress, in the Temple company, wasalmost ideal in its gentle loyalty. The slaves were happy in theirbondage. 

"Erigone, " she said, putting the tablets in the girl's hand, "I amabout to ask of you a very brave thing. Do you dare to take thisletter through the city?" and she told her how to find Agias'slodgings. "Come back in the morning if you dread a double journey. Butdo not tell Fonteia; she would be angry if she knew I sent you, thoughthere is nothing but what is right in the letter. "

"I will carry the tablets to Scythia for you, domina, " replied thegirl, kissing the hem of her mistress's robe. "I know all the streets. If I live, the letter shall be delivered. "

"Go by the alleys, " enjoined Fabia; "they are safer, for you will notbe seen. Speak to no one. Let none stop you. "

Erigone was gone in the night, and Fabia went to her chamber. She wasreproaching herself for having sent the letter. Rome by darkness wasan evil place for a young maid to traverse, and never worse than thatnight. Fabia repeated to herself that she had committed an act ofselfish folly, possibly sacrificing an implicitly loyal servant to themere gratification of a perfectly ungrounded panic. She was undressedby her other women, and lay down with Livia fast asleep in her arms;and she kissed the little one again and again before slumber stoleover her. 

IV

Demetrius had been astonishing his cousin that evening by the quantityof strong wine he could imbibe without becoming in the least tipsy. Agias marvelled at the worthy pirate's capacity and hardness of head, and, fortunately for his own wits, did not attempt to emulate theother's potations. Consequently, as the evening advanced, Demetriussimply became more and more good-natured and talkative, and Agias moreentranced with his cousin's narration of the Indian voyage. 

The younger Greek was about to order his yawning servants to fill upanother _krater_, [159] when the conversation and drinking wereinterrupted by the arrival of Erigone. She, poor girl, had set outbravely enough; but once outside of the Atrium Vestæ every shadow hadbeen a refuge of cutthroats, every noise the oncoming of goblins. Fortunately for her, she did not know the contents of the tablets shecarried pressed to her breast, or she would have been all the moretimorous. Once a few half-sober topers screamed ribald words afterher, as she stole past a low tavern. She had lost her way, in thedarkness and fright, among the alleys; she had dodged into a doorwaymore than once to hide from approaching night rovers. But at last shehad reached her destination, and, pale and weary, placed the letter inAgias's hands. The young Greek read and grew grave. Even better thanFabia he understood how reckless a profligate Publius Gabinius mightbe, and how opportune was the night for carrying out any deed ofdarkness. 

 [159] Wine-mixing bowl. 

"Brave girl!" he said, commending Erigone for persevering on hererrand. "But how long ago did you leave your mistress?"

"It was the second hour of the night[160] when I started, " shereplied. 

 [160] The Romans divided the night into 12 hours (from sunrise to sunset); thus the length of the hour varied with the seasons: but at the time here mentioned the "second hour" was about 8 P. M. The water-clocks could show only regular, not solar, time. 

Agias glanced at the water-clock. 

"By Zeus!" he cried, "it is now the fourth hour! You have been twohours on the way! Immortal gods! What's to be done? Look here, Demetrius!"

And he thrust the letter before his cousin, and explained its meaningas rapidly as he could. 

Demetrius puffed hard through his nostrils. 

"_Mu! mu!_ This is bad business. If there were time I could havetwenty as stout men as ever swung sword up from the yacht and on guardto die for any relative or friend of Sextus Drusus. But there's not amoment to lose. Have you any arms?"

Agias dragged two short swords out of a chest. Demetrius was alreadythrowing on his cloak. 

"Those are poor, light weapons, " commented the pirate. "I want myheavy cutlass. But take what the gods send;" and he girded one abouthim. "At least, they will cut a throat. Do you know how to wieldthem?"

"After a fashion, " replied Agias, modestly, making haste to clasp hispænula. 

Leaving Erigone to be cared for by the slaves and sent home the nextmorning, the two Greeks hastened from the house. Agias could hardlykeep pace with his cousin's tremendous stride. Demetrius was like awar-horse, which snuffs the battle from afar and tugs at the rein tojoin in the fray. They plunged through the dark streets. Once a mansprang out from a doorway before them with a cudgel. He may have beena footpad; but Demetrius, without pausing in his haste, smote thefellow between the eyes with a terrible fist, and the wretchedcreature dropped without a groan. Demetrius seemed guided to the Forumand Via Sacra as if by an inborn instinct. Agias almost ran at hisheels. 

"How many may this Dumnorix have with him?" shouted the pirate overhis shoulder. 

"Perhaps ten, perhaps twenty!" gasped Agias. 

"A very pretty number! Some little credit to throttle them, " was hisanswer; and Demetrius plunged on. 

The night was cloudy, there was no moonlight. The cold, chill windswept down the Tiber valley, and howled mournfully among the tall, silent basilicas and temples of the Forum. The feet of the two Greeksechoed and reëchoed as they crossed the pavement of the enclosure. None addressed them, none met them. It was as if they walked in a cityof the dead. In the darkness, like weird phantoms, rose the tallcolumns and pediments of the deserted buildings. From nowhere twinkledthe ray of lamp. Dim against the sky-line the outlines of theCapitoline and its shrines were now and then visible, when the nightseemed for an instant to grow less dark. 

They were close to the Atrium Vestæ. All was quiet. No light within, no sound but that of the wind and their own breathing without. 

"We are not too late, " whispered Agias. 

The two groped their way in among the pillars of the portico of the_Regia, _[161] and crouched down under cover of the masonry, halfsheltered from the chilly blasts. They could from their post command atolerably good view of one side of the Atrium Vestæ. Still thedarkness was very great, and they dared not divide their force by oneof them standing watch on the other side. The moments passed. It wasextremely cold. Agias shivered and wound himself in his mantle. Thewine was making him drowsy, and he felt himself sinking intosemiconsciousness, when a touch on his arm aroused him. 

 [161] The official residence of the Pontifex Maximus. 

"_St!"_ whispered Demetrius. "I saw a light moving. "

Agias stared into the darkness. 

"There, " continued the pirate, "see, it is a lantern carefullycovered! Only a little glint on the ground now and then. Some one iscreeping along the wall to enter the house of the Vestals!"

"I see nothing, " confessed Agias, rubbing his eyes. 

"You are no sailor; look harder. I can count four men in the gloom. They are stealing up to the gate of the building. Is your sword ready?Now--"

But at this instant Demetrius was cut short by a scream--scream ofmortal terror--from within the Atrium Vestæ. There were shouts, howls, commands, moans, entreaties, shrieks. Light after light blazed up inthe building; women rushed panic-struck to the doorway to burst forthinto the night; and at the open portal Agias saw a gigantic figurewith upraised long sword, a Titan, malevolent, destroying, terrible, --at the sight whereof the women shrank back, screaming yetthe more. 

"Dumnorix!" shouted Agias; but before he spoke Demetrius had leapedforward. 

Right past the sword-wielding monster sprang the pirate, and Agias, all reckless, was at his heels. The twain were in the atrium of thehouse. A torch was spluttering and blazing on the pavement, sheddingall around a bright, flickering, red glare. Young Vestals andmaid-servants were cowering on their knees, or prone on cushions, writhing and screaming with fear unspeakable. A swart Spanish brigand, with his sabre gripped in his teeth, was tearing a gold-thread andsilk covering from a pillow; a second plunderer was wrenching from itschain a silver lamp. Demetrius rushed past these also, before anycould inquire whether he was not a comrade in infamy. But there wereother shouts from the peristylium, other cries and meanings. As thepirate sprang to the head of the passage leading to the inner house, aswarm of desperadoes poured through it, Gauls, Germans, Africans, Italian renegadoes, --perhaps ten in all, --and in their midst--halfborne, half dragged--something white!

"_Io triumphe!_" called a voice from the throng, "my bird will leaveher cage!"

"The lady! Gabinius!" cried Agias, and, without waiting for hiscousin, the young Greek flung himself forward. One stroke of his shortsword sent a leering negro prone upon the pavement; one snatch of hishand seized the white mantle, and held it--held it though half a dozenblades were flashing in his face in an eye's twinkling. But theprowess of twenty men was in the arm of Demetrius; his sword was atonce attacker and shield; with a single sweeping blow he smote downthe guard and cleft the skull of a towering Teuton; with a lightningdart he caught up the ponderous long sword of the falling brigand, passed his own shorter weapon to his left hand, and so fought, --doublyarmed, --parrying with his left and striking with his right. And how hestruck! The whole agile, supple nature of the Greek entered into everyfence. He struck and foiled with his entire body. Now a bound to oneside; now a dart at an opponent's head; fighting with feet, head, frame, and not with hands only. And Agias--he fought too, and knew nothow he fought! When a blow was aimed at him, Demetrius always parriedit before he could raise his sword; if he struck, Demetrius had felledthe man first; but he never let go of the white dress, nor quitted theside of the lady. And presently, he did not know after how long--forhours make minutes, and minutes hours, in such a mêlée--there was amoment's silence, and he saw Publius Gabinius sinking down upon thepavement, the blood streaming over his cloak; and the brigands, suchas were left of them, scurrying out of the atrium cowed andpanic-struck at the fall of their leader. Then, as he threw his armsabout Fabia, and tried to raise her to her feet, he saw the giantDumnorix, with his flail-like sword, rushing back to the rescue. 

Four brigands lay dead in the atrium and none of the others dared lookthe redoubtable Greek swordsman in the eyes; but Dumnorix came on--theincarnation of brute fury. Then again Demetrius fought, --fought as theangler fights the fish that he doubts not to land, yet only after dueplay; and the Gaul, like some awkward Polyphemus, rushed upon him, flinging at him barbarous curses in his own tongue, and snorting andraging like a bull. Thrice the Greek sprang back before the monster;thrice the giant swung his mighty sword to cleave his foeman down, andcut the empty air; but at the fourth onset the Hellene smote theex-lanista once across the neck, and the great eyes rolled, and thepanting stopped, and the mighty Gaul lay silent in a spreading pool ofblood. 

Already there were shouts and cries in the Forum. Torches were dancinghither and thither. The slave-maids of the Vestals ran down the ViaSacra shrieking and calling for aid. Out from the dark tenementsrushed the people. The thieves ran from their lairs; the late drinkerssprang from their wine. And when the wretched remnants of Dumnorix'sband of ex-gladiators and brigands strove to flee from the holy housethey had polluted, a hundred hands were put forth against each one, and they were torn to pieces by the frenzied mob. Into the AtriumVestæ swarmed the people, howling, shouting, praising the goddess, fighting one another--every man imagining his neighbour a cutthroatand abductor. 

Agias stood bearing up Fabia in his arms; she was pale as the drivensnow. Her lips moved, but no sound passed from them. Fonteia, the oldMaxima, with her white hair tumbling over her shoulders, was stillhuddled in one corner, groaning and moaning in a paroxysm ofunreasoning terror, without dignity or self-control. A frightened maidhad touched the torch to the tall candelabra, and the room blazed witha score of lights; while in at the doorway pressed the multitude--themob of low tapsters, brutal butchers, coarse pedlers, and drunkardsjust staggering from their cups. The scene was one of pandemonium. Dumnorix lay prone on a costly rug, whose graceful patterns were beingdyed to a hideous crimson; over one divan lay a brigand--struggling inthe last agony of a mortal wound. Three comrades lay stretched stiffand motionless on the floor. Gory swords and daggers were strewn allover the atrium; the presses of costly wood had been torn open, theircontents scattered across the room. There was blood on the frescoes, blood on the marble feet of the magnificent Diomedes, which stoodrigid in cold majesty on its pedestal, dominating the wreck below. 

Agias with Fabia stood at the end of the atrium near the exit to theperistylium. Demetrius, seemingly hardly breathed by his exertions, leaned on his captured long sword at his cousin's side. The multitude, for an instant, as they saw the ruin and slaughter, drew back with ahush. Men turned away their faces as from a sight of evil omen. Whowere they to set foot in the mansion of the servants of the awfulVesta? But others from behind, who saw and heard nothing, pressedtheir fellows forward. The mob swept on. As with one consent all eyeswere riveted on Fabia. What had happened? Who was guilty? Why hadthese men of violence done this wrong to the home of the hearthgoddess? And then out of a farther corner, while yet the peoplehesitated from reverence, staggered a figure, its face streaming withblood, its hands pressing its side. 

"_Quirites_, " cried a voice, the voice of one speaking with but oneremaining breath, "ye have rewarded me as the law demands; see that_she_" and a bloody forefinger pointed at Fabia, "who led me to thisdeed, is not unpunished. _She_ is the more guilty!"

And with a groan the figure fell like a statue of wood to thepavement; fell heavily, and lay stirring not, neither giving anysound. In his last moment Publius Gabinius had sought a terriblerevenge. 

And then madness seized on the people. 

"She is his sweetheart! She is his paramour!" cried a score of filthyvoices. "She has brought down this insult to the goddess! There is nopontifex here to try her! Tear her in pieces! Strike! Slay!"

But Demetrius had turned to his cousin. 

"Agias, " he said, making himself heard despite the clamour, "do youbelieve the charge of that man?"

"No villain ever would avenge himself more basely. "

"Then at all costs we must save the lady. "

It was time. A fat butcher, flourishing a heavy cleaver, had leapedforward; Fabia saw him with glassy, frightened eyes, but neithershrieked nor drew back. But Demetrius smote the man with his longsword through the body, and the brute dropped the cleaver as he fell. 

"Now, " and Demetrius seized the Vestal around the waist, as lightly asa girl would raise a kitten, and flung her across his shoulders. Onestride and he was in the passage leading to the peristylium; andbefore the mob could follow Agias had dashed the door in their faces, and shot the bolt. 

"It will hold them back a moment, " muttered Demetrius, "but we musthasten. "

They ran across the peristylium, the pirate chief with his burden noless swift than Agias. The door to the rear street was flung open, andthey were out in a narrow alleyway. Just as they did so, a howl ofmany voices proclaimed that the peristylium door had yielded. 

"Guide me by the straightest way, " commanded the sea rover. 

"Where?" was Agias's question. 

"To the wharves. The yacht is the only safe place for the lady. ThereI will teach her how I can honour a friend of Sextus Drusus. "

Agias felt that it was no time for expostulation. A Vestal Virgin takerefuge on a pirate ship! But it was a matter of life and death now, and there was no time for forming another plan. Once let the mobovertake them, and the lives of all three were not worth a sesterce. Agias found it necessary to keep himself collected while he ran, or hewould lose the way in the maze of streets. The yacht was moored farbelow the Pons Sublicius, and the whole way was full of peril. It wasno use to turn off into alleys and by-paths; to do so at night meantto be involved in a labyrinth as deadly for them as that of the CretanMinos. The mob was on their heels, howling, raging. The people werebeginning to wake in their houses along the streets. Men bawled "Stopthief!" from the windows, imagining there had been a robbery. Once twoor three figures actually swung out into the way before them, but at astray glint of lantern light falling on Demetrius's naked long sword, they vanished in the gloom. But still the mob pressed on, ever gainingaccessions, ever howling the more fiercely. Agias realized that theweight of his burden was beginning to tell on even the iron frame ofhis cousin. The pursuers and pursued were drawing closer together. Themob was ever reenforced by relays; the handicap on Demetrius was toogreat. They had passed down the Vicus Tuscus, flown past the darkshadow of the lower end of the Circus Maximus. At the Porta Trigeminathe unguarded portal had stood open; there was none to stop them. Theypassed by the Pons Sublicius, and skirted the Aventine. Stones andbillets of wood began to whistle past their ears, --the missiles of theon-rushing multitude. At last the wharves! Out in the darkness stoodthe huge bulk of a Spanish lumberman; but there was no refuge there. The grain wharves and the oil wharves were passed; the sniff of themackerel fisher, the faint odour from the great Alexandrianmerchantman loaded with the spices of India, were come and gone. Astone struck Agias in the shoulder, he felt numb in one arm, to draghis feet was a burden; the flight with the Cæsarians to the Janiculumhad not been like to this, --death at the naked sword had been at leastin store then, and now to be plucked in pieces by a mob! Another stonebrushed forward his hair and dashed, not against Demetrius ahead, butagainst his burden. There was--Agias could hear--a low moan; but atthe same instant the fleeing pirate uttered a whistle so loud, sopiercing, that the foremost pursuers came to a momentary stand, inhalf-defined fright, In an instant there came an answering whistlefrom the wharf just ahead. In a twinkling half a dozen torches hadflashed out all over a small vessel, now barely visible in the night, at one of the mooring rings. There was a strange jargon of voicescalling in some Oriental tongue; and Demetrius, as he ran, answeredthem in a like language. Then over Agias's head and into the thickpress of the mob behind, something--arrows no doubt--flew whistling;and there were groans and cries of pain. And Agias found uncouth, bearded men helping or rather casting him over the side of the vessel. The yacht was alive with men: some were bounding ashore to loose thehawsers, others were lifting ponderous oars, still more were shootingfast and cruelly in the direction of the mob, while its lucklessleaders struggled to turn in flight, and the multitude behind, ignorant of the slaughter, was forcing them on to death. Above theclamour, the howls of the mob, the shouts of the sailors, the gratingof oars, and the creaking of cables, rang the voice of Demetrius; andat his word a dozen ready hands put each command into action. Thenarrow, easy-moving yacht caught the current; a long tier of whiteoars glinted in the torchlight, smote the water, and the yacht boundedaway, while a parting flight of arrows left misery and death upon thequay. 

Agias, sorely bewildered, clambered on to the little poop. His cousinstood grasping one of the steering paddles; the ruddy lantern lightgleamed on the pirate's frame and face, and made him the perfectpersonification of a sea-king; he was some grandly stern Poseidon, the"Storm-gatherer" and the "Earth-shaker. " When he spoke to Agias, itwas in the tone of a despot to a subject. 

"The lady is below. Go to her. You are to care for her until I rejoinmy fleet. Tell her my sister shall not be more honoured than she, norotherwise treated. When I am aboard my flag-ship, she shall haveproper maids and attendance. Go!"

Agias obeyed, saying nothing. He found Fabia lying on a rude pallet, with a small bale of purple silk thrust under her head for a pillow. She stared at him with wild, frightened eyes, then round the littlecabin, which, while bereft of all but the most necessary comforts, wasdecorated with bejeweled armour, golden lamps, costly Indiantapestries and ivory--the trophies of half a score of voyages. 

"Agias, " she faintly whispered, "tell me what has happened since Iawoke from my sleep and found Gabinius's ruffians about me. Bywhatsoever god you reverence most, speak truly!"

Agias fell on his knees, kissed the hem of her robe, kissed her hands. Then he told her all, --as well as his own sorely confused wits wouldadmit. Fabia heard him through to the end, then laid her face betweenher hands. 

"Would that--would that they had murdered me as they wished! It wouldbe all over now, " she agonized. "I have no wish again to see thelight. Whether they believe me innocent or guilty of the charge islittle; I can never be happy again. "

"And why not, dear lady?" cried Agias. 

"Don't ask me! I do not know. I do not know anything! Leave me! It isnot fit that you should see me crying like a child. Leave me! Leaveme!"

And thus conjured, Agias went up to the poop once more. 

The yacht was flying down the current under her powerful oarage. Demetrius was still standing with his hands fixed on the steeringpaddle; his gaze was drifting along in the plashing water. The shadowyoutlines of the great city had vanished; the yacht was well on her waydown the river to Ostia. Save for the need to avoid a belatedmerchantman anchored in midstream for the night, there was littlerequiring the master's skill. Agias told his cousin how Fabia had senthim away. 

"_A!_ Poor lady!" replied the pirate, "perhaps she was the Vestal Isaw a few days since, and envied her, to see the consuls' lictorslowering their rods to her, and all the people making way before her;she, protected by the whole might of this terrible Roman people, andhonoured by them all; and I, a poor outlaw, massing gold whereof Ihave no need, slaying men when I would be their friend, with only anopen sea and a few planks for native land. And now, see how the Fatesbring her down so low, that at my hands she receives hospitality, nay, life!"

"You did not seem so very loath to shed blood to-night, " commentedAgias, dryly. 

"No, by Zeus!" was his frank answer. "It is easy to send men over theStyx after having been Charon's substitute for so many years. But thetrade was not pleasant to learn, and, bless the gods, you may not haveto be apprenticed to it. "

"Then you will not take me with you in your rover's life?" askedAgias, half-disappointedly. 

"Apollo forbid! I will take you and the lady to some place where shecan be safe until she may return vindicated, and where you can earn anhonest livelihood, marry a wife of station, in accordance with themeans which I shall give you, dwell peaceably, and be happy. "

"But I cannot accept your present, " protested the younger Greek. 

"_Phui!_ What use have I of money? To paraphrase Æschylus: 'For moreof money than I would is mine. ' I can't eat it, or beat swords out ofgold, or repair my ships therewith. "

"Then why amass it at all?"

"Why drink when you know it is better to keep sober? I can no morestop plundering than a toper leave a wine-jar. Besides, perhaps someday I may see a road to amnesty open, --and, then, what will not moneydo for a man or woman?"

"Quintus Drusus, my patron, the Lady Cornelia, and the Lady Fabia allare rich. But I would not take up their sorrows for all their wealth. "

"True, " and Demetrius stared down into the inky water. "It will notgive back those who are gone forever. Achilles could ask Hephæstus forhis armour, but he could not put breath into the body of Patroclus. _Plutus_ and _Cratus_[162] are, after all, but weaklings. _A!_ This isan unequal world!"

 [162] Riches and strength. 

When Agias fell asleep that night, or rather that morning, on a hardseaman's pallet, two names were stirring in his heart, namesinextricably connected: Cornelia, whom he had promised Quintus Drususto save from Ahenobarbus's clutches, and Artemisia. In the morning theyacht, having run her sixteen miles to Ostia, stood out to sea, naughthindering. 

 * * * * *

It was two months later when Quintus Drusus reentered Rome, no more afugitive, but a trusted staff officer of the lawfully appointeddictator Julius Cæsar. He had taken part in a desperate strugglearound Corfinium, where his general had cut off and captured the armywith which Domitius had aimed to check his advance. Drusus had beenseverely wounded, and had not recovered in time to participate in thefutile siege of Brundusium, when Cæsar vainly strove to preventPompeius's flight across the sea to Greece. Soon as he wasconvalescent, the young officer had hurried away to Rome; and there hewas met by a story concerning his aunt, whereof no rationalexplanation seemed possible. And when, upon this mystery, was added atale he received from Baiæ, he marvelled, yet dreaded, the more. 

Chapter XIX

The Hospitality of Demetrius

I

While grave senators were contending, tribunes haranguing, imperatorsgirding on the sword, legions marching, cohorts clashing, --while allthis history was being made in the outside world, Cornelia, verydesolate, very lonely, was enduring her imprisonment at Baiæ. 

If she had had manacles on her wrists and fetters on her feet, shewould not have been the more a prisoner. Lentulus Crus had determined, with the same grim tenacity of purpose which led him to plunge a worldinto war, that his niece should comply with his will and marry LuciusAhenobarbus. He sent down to Baiæ, Phaon, --the evil-eyed freedman ofAhenobarbus, --and gave to that worthy full power to do anything hewished to break the will of his prospective patroness. Cassandra hadbeen taken away from Cornelia--she could not learn so much as whetherthe woman had been scourged to death for arranging the interview withDrusus, or no. Two ill-favoured slatternly Gallic maids, the scouringsof the Puteoli slave-market, had been forced upon Cornelia as herattendants--creatures who stood in abject fear of the whip of Phaon, and who obeyed his mandates to the letter. Cornelia was never out ofsight of some person whom she knew was devoted to Lentulus, or ratherto Phaon and his patron. She received no letters save those from hermother, uncle, or Ahenobarbus; she saw no visitors; she was notallowed to go outside of the walls of the villa, nor indeed upon anyof its terraces where she would be exposed to sight from without, whether by land or sea. At every step, at every motion, she wasconfronted with the barriers built around her, and by theconsciousness that, so long as she persisted in her present attitude, her durance was likely to continue unrelaxed. 

Cornelia was thirsty for the news from the world without. Her keeperswere dumb to the most harmless inquiry. Her mother wrote more of thelatest fashions than of the progress of events in the Senate and inthe field; besides, Claudia--as Cornelia knew very well--never tookher political notions from any one except her brother-in-law, andCornelia noted her mother's rambling observations accordingly. Lentulus studiously refrained from adverting to politics in letters tohis niece. Ahenobarbus wrote of wars and rumours of wars, but in atone of such partisan venom and overreaching sarcasm touching allthings Cæsarian, that Cornelia did not need her prejudices to tell herthat Lucius was simply abusing her credulity. 

Then at last all the letters stopped. Phaon had no explanation togive. He would not suffer his evil, smiling lips to tell the story ofthe flight of the oligarchs from Rome, and confess that Lentulus andClaudia were no farther off than Capua. The consul had ordered thathis niece should not know of their proximity and its cause, --lest shepluck up hope, and all his coercion be wasted. So there was silence, and that was all. Even her mother did not write to her. Cornelia grewvery, very lonely and desolate--more than words may tell. She had oneconsolation--Drusus was not dead, or she would have been informed ofit! Proof that her lover was dead would have been a most delightfulweapon in Lentulus's hands, too delightful to fail to use instantly. And so Cornelia hoped on. 

She tried again to build a world of fantasy, of unreal delight, aroundher; to close her eyes, and wander abroad with her imagination. Sheroamed in reverie over land and sea, from Atlantis to Serica; anddwelt in the dull country of the Hyperboreans and saw the gold-sandedplains of the Ethiops. She took her Homer and fared with Odysseus intoPolyphemus's cave, and out to the land of Circe; and heard the Sirenssing, and abode on Calypso's fairy isle; and saw the maiden Nausicaäand her maids at the ball-play on the marge of the stream. But it wassorry work; for ever and again the dream-woven mist would break, andthe present--stern, unchanging, joyless--she would see, and that only. 

Cornelia was thrown more and more back on her books. In fact, had shebeen deprived of that diversion, she must have succumbed in sheerwretchedness; but Phaon, for all his crafty guile, did not realizethat a roll of Æschylus did almost as much to undo his jailer's workas a traitor among his underlings. 

The library was a capacious, well-lighted room, prettily frescoed, andprovided with comfortably upholstered couches. In the niches were afew choice busts: a Sophocles, a Xenophon, an Ennius, and one or twoothers. Around the room in wooden presses were the rolled volumes onEgyptian papyrus, each labelled with author and title in bright redmarked on the tablet attached to the cylinder of the roll. Here werethe poets and historians of Hellas; the works of Plato, Aristotle, Callimachus, Apollonius Rhodius and the later Greek philosophers. Here, too, were books which the Greek-hating young lady loved best ofall--the rough metres of Livius Andronicus and Cnæus Nævius, whoseuncouth lines of the old Saturnian verse breathed of the hale, hearty, uncultured, uncorrupted life of the period of the First Punic War. Beside them were the other great Latinists: Ennius, Plautus, Terence, and furthermore, Pacuvius and Cato Major, Lucilius, the memoirs ofSulla, the orations of Antonius "the orator" and Gracchus, and thehistories of Claudius Quadrigarius and Valerius Antias. 

The library became virtually Cornelia's prison. She read tragedy, comedy, history, philosophy, --anything to drive from her breast herarch enemy, thought. But if, for example, she turned to ApolloniusRhodius and read--

 "Amidst them all, the son of Æson chief Shone forth divinely in his comeliness, And graces of his form. On him the maid Looked still askance, and gazed him o'er;"[163]

 [163] Elton, translator. 

straightway she herself became Medea, Jason took on the form ofDrusus, and she would read no more; "while, " as the next line of thelearned poet had it, "grief consumed her heart. "

Only one other recreation was left her. Artemisia had not been takenaway by Phaon, who decided that the girl was quite impotent to thwarthis ends. Cornelia devoted much of her time to teaching the brightlittle Greek. The latter picked up the scraps of knowledge with asurprising readiness, and would set Cornelia a-laughing by her_naïveté_, when she soberly intermixed her speech with bits of gravepoetical and philosophical lore, uttered more for sake of sound thansense. 

As a matter of fact, however, Cornelia was fast approaching a pointwhere her position would have been intolerable. She did not even havethe stimulus that comes from an active aggressive persecution. Drususwas in the world of action, not forgetful of his sweetheart, yet notpent up to solitary broodings on his ill-fated passion. Cornelia wasthrust back upon herself, and found herself a very discontented, wretched, love-lorn, and withal--despite her polite learning--ignorantyoung woman, who took pleasure neither in sunlight nor starlight; whosaw a mocking defiance in every dimple of the sapphire bay; who saw ineach new day merely a new period for impotent discontent. Somethinghad to determine her situation, or perhaps she would not indeed havebowed her head to her uncle's will; but she certainly would have beendriven to resolutions of the most desperate nature. 

Cornelia had practically lost reckoning of time and seasons. She hadceased hoping for a letter from her mother; even a taunting missivefrom Ahenobarbus would have been a diversion. She was so closelyguarded that she found herself praying that Drusus would not try tosteal a second interview, for the attempt might end in his murder. Only one stray crumb of comfort at last did she obtain, and it wasArtemisia who brought it to her. The girl had been allowed by Phaon towalk outside the grounds of the villa for a little way, and her prettyface had won the good graces of one or two slave-boys in an adjoiningseaside house. Artemisia came back full of news which they hadimparted: the consuls had fled from Rome; Pompeius was retreatingbefore Cæsar; the latest rumour had it that Domitius was shut up inCorfinium and likely to come off hardly. 

The words were precious as rubies to Cornelia. She went all that dayand the next with her head in the air. Perhaps with a lover's subtleomniscience she imagined that it was Drusus who had some part inbringing Domitius to bay. She pictured the hour when he--with a legionno doubt at his back--would come to Baiæ, not a stealthy, forbiddenlover, but a conqueror, splendid in the triumph of his arms; wouldenter the villa with a strong hand, and lead her forth in the eyes ofall the world--his wife! and then back to Præneste, to Rome--happy asthe Immortals on Olympus; and what came after, Cornelia neitherthought nor cared. 

On those days the sea was lovely, the sunlight fair, and all thecircling sea-gulls as they hovered over the waves cried shrilly one tothe other; "How good is all the world!" And then, just as Cornelia wasbeginning to count the hours, --to wonder whether it would be one dayor ten before Drusus would be sufficiently at liberty to ride overhill and dale to Baiæ, --Phaon thrust himself upon her. 

"Your ladyship, " was his curt statement, "will have all thingsprepared in readiness to take ship for Greece, to-morrow morning. "

"For Greece!" was the agonized exclamation. 

"Certainly; it is useless to conceal matters from your ladyship now. Cæsar has swept all Italy. Corfinium may fall at any time. Hisexcellency the consul Lentulus is now at Brundusium. He orders me toput you on board a vessel that has just finished her lading for thePiræus. "

This then was the end of all those glittering day-dreams! Cæsar'svictories only would transfer Cornelia to a more secure bondage. Shehad enough pride left not to moan aloud and plead with an animal likePhaon not to crush her utterly. In fact she was benumbed, and did notfully sense the changed situation. She went through a mechanicalprocess of collecting her wardrobe, of putting her jewellery in casesand boxes, of laying aside for carriage a few necessaries forArtemisia. Phaon, who had expected a terrible scene when he made hisannouncement, observed to himself that, "The domina is more sensiblethan I supposed. I think her uncle will have his way now soon enough, if Master Lucius does not get his throat cut at Corfinium. " And havingthus concluded to himself, --satisfactorily, if erroneously, --he, too, made arrangements for the voyage impending. 

II

Cornelia's sleeping room was large and airy. It had windowsoverlooking the sea--windows closed by the then extravagant luxury ofpanes of glass. When these were swung back the full sweep of thesouthwest wind poured its mild freshness into the room. The apartmentwas decorated and furnished with every taste and luxury. In one cornerwas the occupant's couch, --the frame inlaid with ivory andtortoise-shell, the mattress soft with the very choicest feathers ofwhite German geese. Heaped on the cushion were gorgeous coverlets, ofpurple wool or even silk, and embroidered with elaborate figures, orcovered with rare feather tapestry. Around the room were silvermirrors, chairs, divans, cabinets, dressers, and elegant tripods. 

On one of the divans slept Artemisia, and just outside of the door oneof the Gallic maids, whom Cornelia detested so heartily. 

When Artemisia's curly head touched her pillow, its owner was fastasleep in an instant. When her patroness sank back on the cushionsworth a king's ransom, Somnus, Hypnus, or whatever name the drowsy godmay be called by, was far from present. Cornelia tossed on thepillows, tossed and cried softly to herself. The battle was too hard!She had tried: tried to be true to Drusus and her own higheraspirations. But there was some limit to her strength, and Corneliafelt that limit very near at hand. Earlier in the conflict with heruncle she had exulted in the idea that suicide was always in herpower; now she trembled at the thought of death, at the thought ofeverything contained in the unlovely future. She did not want to die, to flicker out in nothingness, never to smile and never to laughagain. Why should she not be happy--rightly happy? Was she not aCornelian, a Claudian, born to a position that a princess might enjoy?Was not wealth hers, and a fair degree of wit and a handsome face? Whythen should she, the patrician maiden, eat her heart out, while closeat hand Artemisia, poor little foundling Greek, was sleeping assweetly as though people never grieved nor sorrows tore the soul?

Cornelia was almost angry with Artemisia for being thus oblivious toand shielded from calamity. So hot in fact did her indignation becomeagainst the innocent girl, that Cornelia herself began to smile at herown passion. And there was one thought very comforting to her pride. 

"Artemisia is only an uneducated slave, or little better than a slave;if she were in my station she would be just as unhappy. I am wretchedjust in proportion to the greatness of my rank;" then she added toherself, "_Hei!_ but how wretched then the gods must be!" And thenagain she smiled at admitting for an instant that there were any godsat all; had not her philosophy taught her much better?

So at last Cornelia turned over the pillows for the last time, andfinally slept, in heavy, dreamless slumber. 

 * * * * *

Cornelia did not know at what watch of the night she awoke; awoke, notsuddenly, but slowly, as consciousness stole over her that _something_was happening. It was a dark, cloudy night, yet a strange red lightwas glinting faintly through the windows and making very dim panels onthe rugs of the floor. There was a bare gleam of fire from thecharcoal in the portable metal stove that stood in a remote corner ofthe room to dispel the chill of night. Artemisia was stirring in hersleep, and saying something--probably in a one-sided dream-dialogue. Cornelia opened her eyes, shut them again; peeped forth a second time, and sat up in bed. There was a confused din without, many voicesspeaking at once, all quite unintelligible, though now and then shecaught a few syllables of Greek. The din grew louder and louder. Atthe same time, as if directly connected with the babel, the strangelight flamed up more brightly--as if from many advancing torches. Cornelia shook the sleep from her eyes, and flung back the coverlets. What was it? She had not yet reached the stage of feeling any terror. 

Suddenly, drowning all lesser noise, came the blows of a heavy timberbeating on the main door of the villa. 

Crash! and with the stroke, a torrent of wild shouts, oaths, andimprecations burst forth from many score throats. 

Crash! The slaves sleeping near the front door began to howl andshout. The great Molossian hound that stood watch was barking andsnapping. The Gallic maid sprang from her pallet by Cornelia's door, and gave a shrill, piercing scream. Artemisia was sitting up on herbed, rubbing her eyes, blinking at the strange light, and about tobegin to cry. Cornelia ran over the floor to her. 

"_A! A!_ what is going to happen!" whimpered the girl. 

"I do not know, _philotata_"[164] said Cornelia in Greek, putting herhand on Artemisia's cheek; "but don't cry, and I'll soon find out. "

 [164] Dearest one. 

Crash! and at this the door could be heard to fall inward. Then, withyells of triumph and passion, there was a great sweep of feet over thethreshold, and the clang of weapons and armour. Cornelia found herselfbeginning to tremble. As she stepped across the room, she passedbefore her largest mirror, whereon the outside light was shiningdirectly. She saw herself for an instant; her hair streaming down herback, her only dress her loose white tunic, her arms bare, and nothingon her throat except a string of yellow amber beads. "And my feet arebare, " she added to herself, diverted from her panic by her womanlyembarrassment. She advanced toward the door, but had not long to wait. Down below the invaders had burst loose in wild pillage, then up intothe sleeping room came flying a man--Phaon, his teeth chattering, hisface ghastly with fright. 

"Domina! domina!" and he knelt and seized Cornelia's robe. "Save, _A!_save! We are undone! Pirates! They will kill us all! _Mu! mu!_ don'tlet them murder me!"

A moment longer and Cornelia, in her rising contempt, would havespurned him with her foot. There were more feet on the stairway. Glaring torches were tossing over gold inlaid armour. A man of unusualheight and physique strode at the head of the oncomers, clutching anddragging by the wrist a quivering slave-boy. 

"Your mistress, boy! where is she? Point quickly, if you would notdie!" cried the invader, whom we shall at once recognize as Demetrius. 

Cornelia advanced to the doorway, and stood in her maidenly dignity, confronting the pirates, who fell back a step, as though before anapparition. 

"I am the Lady Cornelia, mistress of the villa, " she said slowly, speaking in tones of high command. "On what errand do you come thusunseasonably, and with violence?"

Whereat, out from the little group of armed men sprang one clad incostly, jewel-set armour, like the rest, but shorter than the others, and with fair hair flowing down from his helmet on to his shoulders. 

"Domina, do you not know me? Do not be afraid. "

"Agias!" cried Cornelia, in turn giving back a step. 

"Assuredly, " quoth the young Hellene, nothing dismayed; "and with yourleave, this great man is Demetrius, my cousin, whose trade, perchance, is a little irregular, but who has come hither not so much to plunderas to save you from the clutches of his arch-enemy's son, LuciusAhenobarbus. "

Cornelia staggered, and caught the curtain in the doorway to keep fromfalling. 

"Has Master Drusus sent him to me?" she asked, very pale around thelips. 

"Master Drusus is at Corfinium. No one knows what will be the issue ofthe war, for Pompeius is making off. It is I who counselled my cousinto come to Baiæ. "

"Then what will you do with me? How may I dare to trust you? Delivermyself into the hands of pirates! Ah! Agias, I did not think that_you_ would turn to such a trade!"

The youth flushed visibly, even under the ruddy torchlight. 

"Oh, lady, " he cried, "have I not always been true to you? I am nopirate, and you will not blame my cousin, when you have heard hisstory. But do not fear us. Come down to the ship--Fabia is there, waiting for you. "

"Fabia!" and again Cornelia was startled. Then, fixing her deep gazefull on Agias, "I believe you speak the truth. If not you--whom?Take--take me!"

And she fell forward in a swoon, and Demetrius caught her in hispowerful arms. 

"This is the affianced wife of Quintus Drusus?" he cried to Agias. 

"None other. "

"She is worthy of Sextus's son. A right brave lady!" cried the pirate. "But this is no place for her, poor thing. Here, Eurybiades, " and headdressed a lieutenant, --an athletic, handsome Hellene likehimself, --"carry the lady down to the landing, put her on the trireme, and give her to Madam Fabia. Mind you lift her gently. "

"Never fear, " replied the other, picking up his burden carefully. "Whowould not delight to bear Aphrodite to the arms of Artemis!"

And so for a while sight, sound, and feeling were at an end forCornelia, but for Agias the adventures of the evening were but justbegun. The pirates had broken loose in the villa, and Demetrius madenot the slightest effort to restrain them. On into the desertedbedroom, ahead of the others, for reasons of his own, rushed Agias. Ashe came in, some one cried out his name, and a second vision in whiteconfronted him. 

"_Ai! ai!_ Agias, I knew you would come!" and then and there, with thesword-blades glinting, and the armed men all around, Artemisia tossedher plump arms around his neck. 

"The nymph, attendant on Aphrodite!" cried Demetrius, laughing. Andthen, when Artemisia saw the strange throng and the torches, and heardthe din over the villa, she hung down her head in mingled fear andmortification. But Agias whispered something in her ear, that made herlift her face, laughing, and then he in turn caught her up in his armsto hasten down to the landing--for the scene was becoming one oflittle profit for a maid. Groans and entreaties checked him. Twopowerful Phoenician seamen were dragging forward Phaon, half clothed, trembling at every joint. "Mercy! Mercy! Oh! Master Agias, oh! Yourexcellency, _clarissime_, [165] _despotes!_[166]" whined the wretchedman, now in Latin, now in Greek, "ask them to spare me; don't let themmurder me in cold blood!"

 [165] Very distinguished sir. 

 [166] Master. 

"_Ai!_" cried Demetrius. "What fool have we here? Do you know him, Agias?"

"He is the freedman of Lucius Ahenobarbus. I can vouch for hischaracter, after its way. "

"_O-op!_"[167] thundered the chief, "drag him down to the boats! I'llspeak with him later!"

 [167] _O-op_--avast there. 

And Agias carried his precious burden down to the landing-place, whilethe seamen followed with their captive. 

Once Artemisia safe on her way to the trireme, which was a little offshore, Agias ran back to the villa; the pirates were ransacking itthoroughly. Everything that could be of the slightest value wasruthlessly seized upon, everything else recklessly destroyed. Thepirates had not confined their attack to the Lentulan residence alone. Rushing down upon the no less elaborate neighbouring villas, theyforced in the gates, overcame what slight opposition the tremblingslaves might make, and gave full sway to their passion for plunder andrapine. The noble ladies and fine gentlemen who had dared thepolitical situation and lingered late in the season to enjoy thepleasures of Baiæ, now found themselves roughly dragged away intocaptivity to enrich the freebooters by their ransoms. From pillage thepirates turned to arson, Demetrius in fact making no effort to controlhis men. First a fragile wooden summer-house caught the blaze of atorch and flared up; then a villa itself, and another and another. Theflames shot higher and higher, great glowing, wavering pyramids ofheat, roaring and crackling, flinging a red circle of glowing light intoward the mainland by Cumæ, and shimmering out over the bay towardProchyta. Overhead was the inky dome of the heavens, and below fire;fire, and men with passions unreined. 

Demetrius stood on the terrace of the burning villa of the Lentuli, barely himself out of range of the raging heat. As Agias came near tohim, the gilded Medusa head emblazoned on his breastplate glared out;the loose scarlet mantle he wore under his armour was red as if dippedin hot blood; he seemed the personification of Ares, the destroyer, the waster of cities. The pirate was gazing fixedly on the blazingwreck and ruin. His firm lips were set with an expression grave andhard. He took no part in the annihilating frenzy of his men. 

"This is terrible destruction!" cried Agias in his ear, for the roarof the flames was deafening, he himself beginning to turn sick at thesight of the ruin. 

"It is frightful, " replied Demetrius, gloomily; "why did the gods everdrive me to this? My men are but children to exult as they do; as boyslove to tear the thatch from the roof of a useless hovel, in sheerwantonness. I cannot restrain them. "

At this instant a seaman rushed up in breathless haste. 

"_Eleleu!_ Captain, the soldiers are on us. There must have been acohort in Cumæ. "

Whereat the voice of Demetrius rang above the shouts of the plunderersand the crash and roar of the conflagration, like a trumpet:--

"Arms, men! Gather the spoil and back to the ships! Back for yourlives!"

Already the cohort of Pompeian troops, that had not yet evacuatedCumæ, was coming up on the double-quick, easily guided by the burningbuildings which made the vicinity bright as day. The pirates ran likecats out of the blazing villas, bounded over terraces and walls, andgathered near the landing-place by the Lentulan villa. The soldierswere already on them. For a moment it seemed as though the cohort wasabout to drive the whole swarm of the marauders over the sea-wall, andmake them pay dear for their night's diversion. But the masterlyenergy of Demetrius turned the scale. With barely a score of menbehind him, he charged the nearest century so impetuously that itbroke like water before him; and when sheer numbers had swept hislittle group back, the other pirates had rallied on the very brink oftie sea-wall, and returned to the charge. 

Never was battle waged more desperately. The pirates knew that to bedriven back meant to fall over a high embankment into water so shallowas to give little safety in a dive; capture implied crucifixion. Theironly hope was to hold their own while their boats took them off to theships in small detachments. The conflagration made the narrowbattle-field as bright as day. The soldiers were brave, and for newrecruits moderately disciplined. The pirates could hardly bear upunder the crushing discharge of darts, and the steady onset of themaniples. Up and down the contest raged, swaying to and fro like thewaves of the sea. Again and again the pirates were driven so near tothe brink of the seawall that one or two would fall, dashed to instantdeath on the submerged rocks below. Demetrius was everywhere at once, as it were, precisely when he was most needed, always exposinghimself, always aggressive. Even while he himself fought for dearlife, Agias admired as never before the intelligently orderedpuissance of his cousin. 

The boats to and from the landing were pulled with frantic energy. Theships had run in as close as possible, but they could not use their_balistæ_, [168] for fear of striking down friend as well as foe. Asrelays of pirates were carried away, the position of the remainderbecame the more desperate with their lessening numbers. The boats cameback for the last relay. Demetrius drew the remnant of his mentogether, and charged so furiously that the whole cohort gave way, leaving the ground strewn with its own slain. The pirates rushed madlyaboard the boats, they sunk them to the gunwales; other fugitivesclung to the oars. At perilous risk of upsetting they thrust off, justas the rallied soldiers ran down to the landing-place. Demetrius andAgias were the only ones standing on the embankment. They had been thelast to retire, and therefore the boats had filled without them. 

 [168] Missile-throwing engines. 

A great cry went up from the pirates. 

"Save the captain!" and some boats began to back water, loaded asthey were; but Demetrius motioned them back with his hand. 

"Can you swim, boy!" he shouted to Agias, while both tore off theirbody-armour. Their shields had already dropped. Agias shook his headdoubtfully. 

"My arm is hurt, " he muttered. 

"No matter!" and Demetrius seized his cousin under one armpit, andstepped down from the little landing-platform into the water justbelow. A single powerful stroke sent the two out of reach of the swingof the sword of the nearest soldier. The front files of the cohort hadpressed down on to the landing in a dense mass, loath to let go itsprey. 

"Let fly, men!" cried Demetrius, as he swam, and javelins spat intothe water about him. 

It was a cruel thing to do. The three pirate vessels, two largetriremes and the yacht, discharged all their enginery. Heavy stonescrashed down upon the soldiers, crushing several men together. Hugearrows tore through shield and armour, impaling more than one body. Itwas impossible to miss working havoc in so close a throng. The troops, impotent to make effective reply, turned in panic and fled toward theupper terraces to get beyond the decimating artillery. The piratesraised a great shout of triumph that shook the smoke-veiled skies. Afresh boat, pulling out from one of the vessels, rescued the captainand Agias; and soon the two cousins were safe on board the triremeDemetrius used as his flagship. 

The pirates swarmed on the decks and rigging and cheered the escape oftheir commander. On shore the burning buildings were still sending uptheir pillars of flame. The water and sky far out to sea were red, andbeyond, blackness. Again the pirates shouted, then at the order oftheir commander the cables creaked, the anchors rose, hundreds of longoars flashed in the lurid glare, and the three vessels slipped overthe dark waves. 

Demetrius remained on the poop of his ship; Agias was below in thecabin, bending over Artemisia, who was already smiling in her sleep. 

III

When Cornelia awoke, it was with Fabia bending over her at thebedside. The portholes of the cabin were open; the warm, freshsouthern wind was pouring in its balmy sweetness. Cornelia pressed herhands to her eyes, then looked forth. The cabin ceiling was low, butstudded with rare ornamental bronze work; the furniture glittered withgilding and the smooth sheen of polished ivory; the tapestry of thecurtains and on the walls was of the choicest scarlet wool, and Coansilk, semi-transparent and striped with gold. Gold plating shone onthe section of the mast enclosed within the cabin. An odour of therarest Arabian frankincense was wafted from the pastils burning on acuriously wrought tripod of Corinthian brass. The upholsteries andrugs were more splendid than any that Cornelia had seen gracing thepalace of Roman patrician. 

Thus it came to pass that Fabia repeated over and over again toCornelia the tale of recent happenings, until the latter's sorelyperturbed brain might comprehend. And then, when Cornelia understoodit all: how that she was not to go to Greece with Phaon; how that shewas under the protection of a man who owed his life to Sextus Drusus, and hated the Ahenobarbi with a perfect hatred; how that Demetrius hadsworn to carry her to Alexandria, where, safe out of the way of warand commotion, she might await the hour when Drusus should be free tocome for her--when, we repeat, she understood all this, and how itcame to pass that the Vestal herself was on the vessel, --then Corneliastrained Fabia to her breast, and laid her head on the elder woman'sshoulder, and cried and cried for very relief of soul. Then she aroseand let the maids Demetrius had sent to serve her--dark-skinnedHindoos, whose words were few, but whose fingers quick and dexterous--dress her from the very complete wardrobe that the sea prince hadplaced at her disposal. 

Never before had the sunlight shone so fair; never before had thesniff of the sea-breeze been so sweet. The galleys were still in thebay, close by Prochyta, scarce a mile and a half from the nearestmainland. The pirates were landing to procure water from the desolate, unsettled isle. The bay was dancing and sparkling with ten milliongolden ripples; the sun had risen high enough above the green hills ofthe coast-land to spread a broad pathway of shimmering fire across thewaters. Not a cloud flecked the light-bathed azure. Up from theforward part of the ships sounded the notes of tinkling cithera andthe low-breathing double flutes[169] in softest Lydian mood. In andout of the cabin passed bronzed-faced Ethiopian mutes with silver cupsof the precious Mareotic white wine of Egypt for the lady, and platesof African pomegranates, Armenian apricots, and strange sweetmeatsflavoured with a marvellous powder, an Oriental product worth itsweight in gold as a medicine, which later generations were todesignate under the name of sugar. 

 [169] _Tibiæ_. 

And so Cornelia was refreshed and dressed; and when the maids held themirror before her and she saw that the gold trinkets were shining inher hair, and the jewels which Demetrius had sent her were sparklingbrightly at her throat, and realized that she was very fair tosee, --then she laughed, the first real, unforced laugh for many aweary day, whereupon she laughed again and again, and grew the morepleased with her own face when she beheld a smile upon it. Then Fabiakissed her, and told her that no woman was ever more beautiful; andthe dark Indian maids drew back, saying nothing, but admiring withtheir eyes. So Cornelia went up upon the deck, where Demetrius came tomeet her. If she had been a Semiramis rewarding a deserving general, she could not have been more queenly. For she thanked him and hislieutenants with a warm gratitude which made every rough seaman feelhimself more than repaid, and yet throughout it all bore herself asthough the mere privilege on their part of rescuing her ought to besufficient reward and honour. Then Demetrius knelt down before all hismen, and kissed the hem of her robe, and swore that he would devotehimself and all that was his to her service, until she and QuintusDrusus should meet, with no foe to come between; so swore all thepirates after their captain, and thus it was Cornelia entered into herlife on the ship of the freebooters. 

Other work, however, was before Demetrius that day, than castingglances of dutiful admiration at the stately lady that had deigned toaccept his hospitality. Out from the various other cabins, lessluxurious assuredly than the one in which Cornelia had awakened, thepirates led their several captives to stand before the chief. Demetrius, indeed, had accomplished what he euphemistically describedas "a fair night's work. " Half a dozen once very fashionable and nowvery disordered and dejected noble ladies and about as many more sadlybedraggled fine gentlemen were haled before his tribunal for judgment. The pirate prince stood on the raised roof of a cabin, a step higherthan the rest of the poop. He was again in his splendid armour, hisnaked sword was in his hand, at his side was stationed Eurybiades andhalf a score more stalwart seamen, all swinging their bare cutlasses. Demetrius nevertheless conducted his interrogations with perhapssuperfluous demonstrations of courtesy, and a general distribution ofpolite "domini" "dominæ, " "clarissimi, " and "illustres. " He spoke inperfectly good Latin, with only the slightest foreign accent; andCornelia, who--unregenerate pagan that she was--was taking thoroughdelight in the dilemma of persons whom she knew had made her the buttof their scandalous gibes, could only admire the skilful manner inwhich he brought home to the several captives the necessity of findinga very large sum of money at their bankers' in a very short time, orenduring an indefinite captivity. After more or less of surly threatsand resistance on the part of the men, and screaming on the part ofthe women, the prisoners one and all capitulated, and put their namesto the papyri they were commanded to sign; and away went a boatdancing over the waves to Puteoli to cash the money orders, afterwhich the captives would be set ashore at Baiæ. 

Last of the wretches brought before Demetrius came Phaon. The freedmanhad been roughly handled; across his brow a great welt had risen wherea pirate had struck him with a rope's end. His arms were pinionedbehind his back. He was perfectly pale, and his eyes wandered from oneperson to another as if vainly seeking some intercessor. 

"_Euge! Kyrios_[170]" cried the pirate chief, "you indeed seem toenjoy our hospitality but ill. "

 [170] Your Highness. 

Phaon fell on his knees. 

"I am a poor man, " he began to whimper. "I have no means of paying aransom. My patron is not here to protect or rescue me. I have nothingto plunder. _Mu! mu!_ set me free, most noble pirate! Oh! mostexcellent prince, what have I done, that you should bear a grudgeagainst me?"

"Get up, fellow, " snapped Demetrius; "I'm not one of thosecrocodile-headed Egyptian gods that they grovel before in the Nilecountry. My cousin Agias here says he knows you. Now answer--are you aGreek?"

"I am an Athenian born. "

"Don't you think I can smell your Doric accent by that broad alpha?You are a Sicilian, I'll be bound!"

Phaon made a motion of sorrowful assent. 

"_Phui!_" continued Demetrius, "tell me, Agias, is this the creaturethat tried to murder Quintus Drusus?"

Agias nodded. 

"A fit minister for such a man as I imagine the son of Lucius Domitiusto be. Eurybiades, take off that fellow's bands; he is not worth onestroke of the sword. "

"The captain will not spare the knave!" remonstrated the sanguinarylieutenant. 

"What I have said, I have said, " retorted the other; then, whenPhaon's arms hung free, "See, on the strength of our fellowship in ourboth being Greeks, I have set you at large!"

Phaon again sank to his knees to proffer thanks. 

"Hold!" cried Demetrius, with a menacing gesture. "Don't waste yourgratitude. Greek you pretend to be, more the shame! Such as you it isthat have brought Hellas under the heel of the oppressor; such as youhave made the word of a Hellene almost valueless in the Roman courts, so that juries have to be warned to consider us all liars; such as youhave dragged down into the pit many an honest man; ay, myself too!"

Phaon left off his thanks and began again to supplicate. 

"Stop whining, hound!" roared Demetrius; "haven't I said you are free?Free, but on one condition!"

"Anything, anything, my lord, " professed the freedman, "money, service--"

"On this condition, " and a broad, wicked smile over-spread the face ofthe pirate, "that you quit this ship instantly!"

"Gladly, gladly, merciful sir!" commenced Phaon again; "where is theboat?"

"Wretch!" shouted the other, "what did I say about a boat?Depart--depart into the sea! Swim ashore, if the load on your legs benot too heavy. Seize him and see that he sinks, "--this last toEurybiades and the seamen. 

Phaon's terror choked his utterance; he turned livid with mortalfright. He pleaded for life; life on the terms most degrading, mostpainful, most joyless--life, life and that only. He cried out toCornelia to save him, he confessed his villanies, and vowed repentancea score of times all in one breath. But Cornelia lived in an age whenthe wisest and best--whatever the philosophers might theorize--thoughtit no shame to reward evil for evil, not less than good for good. WhenDemetrius asked her, "Shall I spare this man, lady?" she replied: "Ashe has made my life bitter for many days, why should I spare him abrief moment's pain? Death ends all woe!"

There was a dull splash over the side, a circle spreading out in thewater, wider and wider, until it could be seen no more among thewaves. 

"There were heavy stones to his feet, Captain, " reported Eurybiades, "and the cords will hold. "

"It is well, " answered Demetrius, very grave.... 

Later in the day the boat returned from Puteoli, and with it sundrysmall round-bellied bags, which the pirate prince duly stowed away inhis strong chest. The ransomed captives were put on board a smallunarmed yacht that had come out to receive them. Demetrius himselfhanded the ladies over the side, and salaamed to them as the craftshot off from the flagship. Then the pirates again weighed anchor, thegreat purple[171] square sail of each of the ships was cast to thepiping breeze, the triple tiers of silver-plated oars[171] began torise and fall in unison to the soft notes of the piper. The land grewfainter and more faint, and the three ships sprang away, speeding overthe broad breast of the sea. 

 [171] These were real affectations of the Cilician pirates. 

That night Cornelia and Fabia held each other in their arms for a longtime. They were leaving Rome, leaving Italy, their closest friend athand was only the quondam slave-boy Agias, yet Cornelia, at least, washappy--almost as happy as the girl Artemisia; and when she lay down tosleep, it was to enjoy the first sound slumber, unhaunted by dread oftrouble, for nigh unto half a year. 

Chapter XX

Cleopatra

I

A "clear singing zephyr" out of the west sped the ships on their way. Down they fared along the coast, past the isle of Capreæ, then, leaving the Campanian main behind, cut the blue billows of theTyrrhenian Sea; all that day and night, and more sail and oar sweptthem on. They flew past the beaches of Magna Græcia, then, betwixtScylla and Charybdis, and Sicilia and its smoke-beclouded cone of Ætnafaded out of view, and the long, dark swells of the Ionian Sea caughtthem. No feeble merchantman, hugging coasts and headlands, wasDemetrius. He pushed his three barques boldly forward toward thewatery sky-line; the rising and setting sun by day and the slowlycircling stars by night were all-sufficient pilots; and so the shipsflew onward, and, late though the season was, no tempest racked them, no swollen billow tossed them. 

Cornelia sat for hours on the poop, beneath a crimson awning, watchingthe foam scudding out from under the swift-moving keel, and feelingthe soft, balmy Notos, the kind wind of the south, now and then puffagainst her face, when the west wind veered away, and so brought up awhiff of the spices and tropic bloom of the great southern continent, over the parching deserts and the treacherous quicksands of the Syrtesand the broad "unharvested sea. "

Cornelia had seen the cone of Ætna sinking away in the west, and thenshe looked westward no more. For eastward and ever eastward fared theships, and on beyond them on pinions of mind flew Cornelia. To Africa, to the Orient! And she dreamed of the half-fabulous kingdoms ofAssyria and Babylonia; of the splendours of Memphis and Nineveh andSusa and Ecbatana; of Eastern kings and Eastern gold, and Eastern pompand circumstance of war; of Ninus, and Cyrus the Great, and Alexander;of Cheops and Sesostris and Amasis; of the hanging gardens; of thetreasures of Sardanapalus; of the labyrinth of Lake Moeris; of athousand and one things rare and wonderful. Half was she persuadedthat in the East the heart might not ache nor the soul grow cold withpain. And all life was fair to Cornelia. She was sure of meetingDrusus soon or late now, if so be the gods--she could not help usingthe expression despite her atheism--spared him in war. She could wait;she could be very patient. She was still very young. And when shecounted her remaining years to threescore, they seemed an eternity. The pall which had rested on her life since her uncle and her loverparted after their stormy interview was lifted; she could smile, couldlaugh, could breathe in the fresh air, and cry, "How good it all is!"

Demetrius held his men under control with an iron hand. If ever thepirate ship was filled with sights and sounds unseemly for a lady'seyes and ears, there were none of them now. Cornelia was a princess, abjectly waited on by her subjects. Demetrius's attention outran allher least desires. He wearied her with presents of jewellery andcostly dresses, though, as he quietly remarked to Agias, the giftsmeant no more of sacrifice to him than an obol to a rich spendthrift. He filled her ears with music all day long; he entertained her withinimitable narrations of his own adventurous voyages and battles. Andonly dimly could Cornelia realize that the gems she wore in her hair, her silken dress, nay, almost everything she touched, had come fromearlier owners with scant process of law. 

Demetrius was no common rover. He had been a young man of rare culturebefore misfortune struck him. He knew his Homer and his Plato as wellas how to swing a sword. "Yet, " as he remarked with half jest, halfsigh, "all his philosophy did not make him one whit more an honestman. "

And in his crew of Greeks, Orientals, and Spaniards were many morewhom calamity, not innate wickedness, so Cornelia discovered, haddriven to a life of violence and rapine. 

Demetrius, too, gave no little heed to Artemisia. That pretty creaturehad been basking in the sunshine of Agias's presence ever since comingon shipboard. It was tacitly understood that Cornelia would care forthe welfare and education of Pratinas's runaway, until she reached amaturity at which Agias could assert his claims. The young Hellenehimself had been not a little anxious lest his cousin cast obstaclesin the way of an alliance with a masterless slavegirl; for of lateDemetrius had been boasting to his kinsman that their family, beforebusiness misfortunes, had been wealthy and honourable among themerchant princes of Alexandria. But the worthy pirate had not anobjection to make; on the contrary, he would sit for hours staring atArtemisia, and when Agias demanded if he was about to turn rival, shook his head and replied, rather brusquely:--

"I was only thinking that Daphne might be about her age, and lookperhaps like her. "

"Then you do not think your little daughter is dead?" asked Agias, sympathetic, yet personally relieved. 

"I know nothing, nothing, " replied his cousin, a look of ineffablepain passing over his fine features; "she was a mere infant when I wasarrested. When I broke loose, I had to flee for my life. When I couldset searchers after her, she had vanished. Poor motherless thing; Iimagine she is the slave of some gay lady at Antioch or Ephesus orRome now. "

"And you do not know who stole her?" asked Agias. 

"Don't tear open old wounds, " was the retort. "I know nothing. Ithink--but it matters little what I think. There was that sly-eyed, smooth-tongued Greek, like that Phaon who met his deserts, who was nostranger to Domitius's blackmailings. I _feel_ that he did it. Nevermind his name. If ever I get the snake into my power--" andDemetrius's fingers tightened around the thick, hard cable he wasclutching, and crushed the solid hemp into soft, loose strands; thenhe broke out again, "Never mention this another time, Agias, or Ishall go mad, and plunge down, down into the waves, to go to sleep andforget it all!"

Agias was faithful to the injunction; but he observed that Demetriusshowed Artemisia the same attention as Cornelia, albeit mingled with alittle gracious and unoffending familiarity. 

II

After a voyage in which one pleasant day succeeded another, Corneliaawoke one morning to hear the creak of blocks and tackle as thesailors were lowering sail. The full banks of oars were plashing inthe waves, and on deck many feet were rushing to and fro, whileofficers shouted their orders. Coming out of her cabin, the young ladysaw that the end of her seafaring was close at hand. Even to one freshfrom the azure atmosphere of the Campanian Bay, the sky wasmarvellously clear. The water was of a soft green tint, that shadedoff here and there into dark cerulean. The wind was blowing in coolpuffs out of the north. A long, slow swell made the stately triremesrock gracefully. Before them, in clear view, rose the tall tower ofthe Pharos, --the lighthouse of Alexandria, --and beyond it, on thelow-lying mainland, rose in splendid relief against the cloudless skythe glittering piles and fanes of the city of the Ptolemies. It was amagnificent picture, --a "picture" because the colours everywhere wereas bright as though laid on freshly by a painter's brush. Thestonework of the buildings, painted to gaudy hues, brought out all thedetails of column, cornice, and pediment. Here Demetrius pointed outthe Royal Palace, here the Theatre; here, farther inland, the Museum, where was the great University; in the distance the whole looked likea painting in miniature. Only there was more movement in this picture:a splendid yacht, with the gold and ivory glittering on its prow andpoop, was shooting out from the royal dockyards in front of thepalace; a ponderous corn-ship was spreading her dirty sails to try tobeat out against the adverse breeze, and venture on a voyage to Rome, at a season when the Italian traffic was usually suspended. Theharbour and quays were one forest of masts. Boats and small craft weregliding everywhere. Behind the pirate's triremes several largemerchantmen were bearing into the harbour under a full press of sail. 

"And this, your ladyship, " said Demetrius, smiling, "is Egypt. Doesthe first sight please you?"

"Does it not!" exclaimed Cornelia, drinking in the matchlessspectacle. "But you, kind sir, do you not run personal peril byputting into this haven for my sake?"

Demetrius laughed. 

"It speaks ill for the law-abiding qualities of my countrymen, lady, "said he, "that I have nothing now to fear. I have too many greatfriends both in the court and in the city to fear arrest or annoyance. Here I may not stay long, for if it were to be noised in Rome that apirate were harboured habitually at Alexandria, a demand for my arrestwould come to the king quickly enough, and he must needs comply. Butfor a few days, especially while all Rome is in chaos, I am safe; and, come what may, I would be first warned if any one intended to layhands on me. "

Indeed, Demetrius's boast as to his own importance in Alexandria wassoon verified. The customs officials were all obsequiousness when theywent through the form of levying on the cargo of the ship. The masterof the port was soon in Demetrius's own cabin over a crater ofexcellent wine, and no sooner had the vessels touched the quay thantheir crews were fraternizing with the hosts of stevedores andflower-girls who swarmed to meet the new arrivals. 

 * * * * *

A few days later Cornelia and Fabia found themselves received asmembers of the household of no less a person than Cleomenes, a distantkinsman of Demetrius and Agias, and himself one of the great merchantprinces of the Egyptian capital. The Roman ladies found a certainamount of shyness to overcome on their own part and on that of theirhosts. Cleomenes himself was a widower, and his ample house waspresided over by two dark-skinned, dark-eyed daughters, Berenice andMonime--girls who blended with the handsome Greek features of theirfather the soft, sensuous charm of his dead Egyptian wife. Bashfulindeed had been these maidens in contact with the strangers who camebearing with them the haughty pride of all-conquering Rome. But aftera day or two, when Cornelia had cast off the hauteur begotten ofdiffidence, and Fabia had opened the depths of her pure womanlycharacter, the barriers were thrown down rapidly enough; and Corneliaand Fabia gained, not merely an access to a new world of life andideas, but two friends that they could regard almost as sisters. 

It was a new thing for these Roman ladies to meet a foreigner on termsapproaching equality. A non-Roman had been for them a servant, anintelligent underling, nothing more; even Agias and Demetrius they hadregarded as friends, very close and agreeable, but whom it was adistinct condescension not to treat with ostentatious superiority. Butto sustain this feeling long with Berenice and Monime was impossible. The young Egyptians were every whit as cultured, as intelligent, asthemselves, every whit as accustomed to deference from others, andimplicitly assumed the right to demand it. The result was thatCornelia found herself thinking less and less about being a Roman, andmore and more regarded her gracious hosts as persons in every wayequal to herself. 

And less and less of a Roman, Cornelia, the Hellene-hater, became. Greek was the only tongue now that sounded in her ear, unless shetalked privately with Fabia or was beguiled into trying to learn alittle Egyptian--a language Berenice and Monime spoke fluently. Theclothes she wore were no longer stola and palla, but chiton andhimation. The whole atmosphere about her was foreign, down to thecries on the streets. And Italy was very far away, and the lastmemories thereof none the most pleasant. 

It chanced that one morning Cleomenes, Monime, and Cornelia weredriving down the great central street, under the shadow of seeminglyendless colonnades. 

"_A!_ dearest one, " cried Monime, "why must you think of leaving ourlovely Alexandria, of going back to cold, cheerless Rome? What goodthing does Rome send out but stern men and sharp iron?"

Cornelia shook her head and made answer--

"You Alexandrians are not one nation, but all the world; therefore youthink all who are less cosmopolitan poor. See, I count in the crowdsnot only the dark Egyptians and fair Greeks, but a Persian in hissplendid long kaftan, and a very venerable Jew, and a wiry littleArab, and Syrians, and negroes, and, I think, a Hindoo. "

"And yourself, my lady, a Roman, " concluded Cleomenes. "Truly all theearth has met in our city. "

They whirled down the splendid highway that ran straight as an arrowthe whole length of the city, lined on either side by a forest of theinfinite number of columns of the great stretches of porticos. Handsomely dressed cavalrymen of the palace guard were dashing to andfro over the clean, hard pavement; elegant carriages containing thenoble and wealthy were whirling in every direction. At each glance, the eye lit on some pleasing bit of sculpture, some delicate curve ofarchitecture. Statues were everywhere, everywhere colour, everywherecrowds of gayly dressed citizens and foreigners. Cornelia contrastedthe symmetrical streets, all broad, swept, and at right angles--thetriumph of the wise architectural planning of Dinocrates--with thedirty, unsightly, and crooked lanes of the City of the Seven Hills, and told herself, as she had told herself often in recent days, thatRomans had much yet to learn. 

They drove on past the Amphitheatre toward the Egyptian quarter of theRhacotis; and here, at the intersection of the Great Street with theother broad way leading from the "Gate of the Moon" on the harbour tothe "Gate of the Sun" on Lake Mareotis, a moving hedge of outriders, cavalrymen, and foot-guards met them. 

"The queen coming from the Serapeum, " said Cleomenes, drawing rein. 

Cornelia saw half-naked Numidian footmen thrusting back the crowd thatbustled in the Omphalos--the great square where the two highroads met. Behind them pushed a squadron of light cavalry in silvered armour andsplendid purple and scarlet uniforms. Then, in the midst of all, moveda chariot drawn by four horses white as snow, the harness resplendentwith gold and jewels; at either side ran fan-bearers, waving greatmasses of bright ostrich plumes; a gaudy parasol swept over thecarriage itself. There were three occupants, whereof two stood: anEgyptian, gaunt and of great height, clad in plain white linen, whowas driving, and a handsome, gaudily dressed Greek youth, who washolding the parasol. Cornelia could just catch the profile of a youngwoman seated between them. The face was not quite regular, butmarvellously intelligent and sensitive; the skin not pale, yet farfrom dark, and perfectly healthy and clear; the eyes restive andpiercing. The queen was dressed plainly in Greek fashion; her himationwas white, her only ornament a great diamond that was blazing like astar on her breast. Upon the coils of her heavy, dark hair sat agolden circlet faced in front with the likeness of the head of thevenomous uræus snake--the emblem of Egyptian royalty. This was allCornelia could observe in the brief time the queen was in view. Someof the people--Egyptians mostly--cried out to her in their owntongue:--

"Hail to the ever glorious Daughter of Ra!"

But the queen paid them little heed. Once her restless eyes lit on thecarriage of Cleomenes, and she made a slight inclination of the headin return to that gentleman's salute, for Cleomenes had standing atcourt as one of the "friends of the king. "[172]

 [172] A high order of Egyptian nobility. 

The cortège rolled away toward the palace. 

"This Cleopatra is a rather remarkable woman, " observed Cornelia, forthe sake of saying something. 

"Indeed, that is true, " replied Cleomenes, as he turned to drivehomeward. "She is worthy to have lived in the days of the firstPtolemies, of Ptolemæus Soter and Philadelphus and Euergetes. She isstill very young, only twenty, and yet five years ago she was sofascinating that when Antonius, of whom I have heard you speak, camehere with Gabinius's expeditions he quite lost his heart to her. Shehas a marvellous talent for statecraft and intrigue and diplomacy. Youknow that, nominally at least, she has to share her crown with youngPtolemæus, her younger brother. He is a worthless rascal, but histutor, the eunuch Pothinus, really wields him. Pothinus, as the customis, was brought up with him as his playmate, and now Pothinus wants todrive out the queen, and rule Egypt through his power over the king. His ambition is notorious, but the queen has not been able to layhands on him for treason. "

Cleopatra and her fortunes and perils played a slight part inCornelia's mind, however, that day. To know Alexandria in its sunlightand shadows was indeed to know a miniature world. First of all tonotice, besides the heterogeneous nature of the crowds on the streets, was the fact that every person, high as well as low, was engaged insome trade. Very far was the typical Alexandrian from the quiet"leisure" which the average Greek or Latin believed requisite for arefined life--a life in which slaves did all the necessary work, andamassed an income for the master to expend in polite recreations. InRome, for a free citizen to have been a handicraftsman would have beena disgrace; he could be farmer, banker, soldier, --nothing more. InAlexandria the glass-workers, paper-makers, and linen weavers werethose who were proudest and most jealous of their title of "Men ofMacedonia. "[173] Money, Cornelia soon discovered, was even a greatergod here than in Rome. Cleomenes himself was not ashamed to spend alarge part of the day inspecting his factories, and did not hesitateto declare that during a period when he and his family had been ingreat distress, following the failure of the banking house of Agias'sfather, he had toiled with his own hands to win bread for hisdaughters. 

 [173] The official title of Alexandrian Greek citizens. 

The conception that any honest labour, except a certain genteelagriculture, might not make a man the less of a gentleman, or a womanthe less of a lady, was as new to Cornelia as the idea that somenon-Romans could claim equality with herself. Neither proposition didshe accept consciously. The prejudice wore quietly away. But otherthings about the city she gathered quickly enough from the causticexplanations of Cleomenes. 

"Here in Alexandria, " he asserted on one occasion, "we are always ripefor a riot. Never a chariot race without stone-throwing andthroat-cutting after it. An unpopular official is torn in pieces by amob. If you chance to kill a cat, the Egyptians are after you for yourlife. The Greeks hate the Jews, and are always ready to plunder theirquarter; the Egyptians are on bad terms with both. We talk about beingfree citizens of the capital of the Ptolemies, and pretend to go tothe Gymnasium for discussion, and claim a right to consult with theking; but our precious Senate, and all our tribes and wards, are onlyfictions. We are as much slaves as the poor creatures down in theroyal quarries; only we demand the right to riot and give nicknames. We called the last Ptolemæus, Auletes "the Piper, " because in that waywe have punished him in all history for the way he oppressed us. _Euge!_ Have we not a wonderful city!"

It was on the very next day that Cleopatra was recalled to Cornelia'smind in a quite marked fashion. It was rather early, and she was uponthe roof-garden, on the third story of the house, where there was acommanding view of the city. Berenice was busy reading from a papyrusthe Egyptian legend of the "Adventures of Sinuhit, " translating intoGreek as she read. 

Cleomenes broke in upon the reading. His face wore a mysterious smile. 

"I have a rather strange piece of news for you, my lady, " he said. "Achamberlain of the court has just been here, and brings a royalcommand. "

"I am not accustomed to being commanded, " interrupted Cornelia, allher Roman haughtiness rising. 

"I do not think you will be found disobedient. The queen, it seems, noticed you in my carriage yesterday, and at once divined, with thatwonderfully quick wit of hers, that you must be a Roman lady of rank. She immediately made inquiries, and now sends her chamberlain to askyou and the Lady Fabia, as well as myself, to dine with her at thepalace to-night. You may be sure nothing will be lacking to do youhonour. "

Cornelia meekly acquiesced in this royal mandate. Fabia, however, could not stir from the house. The shock to her finely strung naturewhen she was taken from Rome had, indeed, produced a physicalreaction. She was not seriously ill, but could endure no excitement. So it was with only Cleomenes for an escort that Cornelia mounted intoone of the splendid royal chariots sent from the palace about dusk, and drove away surrounded by a cloud of guardsmen sent to do honour tothe guests of the queen. 

Cornelia herself felt highly strung and slightly nervous. She wished, for the first time since she reached Alexandria, that she could godressed in the native costume of a Roman lady, She was going to enjoythe hospitality of a princess who was the successor of thirty odddynasties of Pharaohs; who was worshipped herself as a goddess bymillions of Egyptians; who was hailed as "Daughter of the Sun, " andwith fifty other fulsome titles; a princess, furthermore, who wassupposed to dispose of the lives of her subjects as seemed right inher own eyes, without law of man or god to hinder. Cornelia was notafraid, nay rather, anticipatory; only she had never before been sothoroughly conscious that she was Roman down to her finger-tips--Roman, and hence could look upon the faces of princes unabashed. 

The people saw the royal chariot, and some shouted salutations to theguests whom the queen delighted to honour. The company swept up underthe magnificent archway leading to the palace; above them rose tallIonic columns of red granite of Syene, building rising above building, labyrinths of pillars, myriads of statues. Torches were blazing fromevery direction. The palace grounds were as bright as day. The lightbreeze was sweeping through rare Indian ferns and tropical palms. Theair was heavy with the breath of innumerable roses. Huge fountainswere tossing up showers of spray, which fell tinkling onto broadbasins wherein the cups of the blue and white lotus were floating. Itwas indeed as if one had been led on to enchanted ground. 

Cornelia and her friend dismounted from their chariot, and were ledthrough an endless colonnade, past a second, lower gateway, and theninto a hall, not very high or large, but admirable in its proportions, with a whole gallery of choice mythological paintings on its walls. Small heed did Cornelia give to them. For at the end of the hall rosea low dais, whereon sat, in a gilded chair, the same person who hadbeen pointed out to Cornelia the day before as the mistress of Upperand Lower Egypt. 

The light was too dim to discover in the distance anything new in theface of the queen. She wore a loose, long gown of some light bluesilken stuff; and her belt, shoes, neck, breast, and ears were allglittering with gems. At the foot of the dais was a group of half adozen showily dressed chamberlains and courtiers, who made a slightmotion of greeting when the two guests darkened the doorway. One ofthese functionaries advanced to Cornelia. 

"Your ladyship, " he began, in a smooth, colourless voice, "I have thehonour to be the Royal Introducing Chamberlain. In approaching thequeen, do as I shall direct. First, before advancing to the dais bowslightly; then at the foot of the dais it is proper--"

"Sir, " interrupted Cornelia, drawing herself up to her full height, "Iam not accustomed to your prostrations and genuflections, and of themmy countrymen make sorry work; pray excuse me. " And without waitingfor reply or expostulation she advanced straight toward the dais. Thehall was small, the steps from the door to the queen's chair few; butnever did Cornelia fare on more tedious journey. She knew that ahalf-horrified titter was passing through the group of courtiers Sheknew that Cleopatra herself had stirred in her seat, as if to rise. But one word sounded in Cornelia's ears, and that word was "Rome. "Were not Roman citizens nobles among nobles, and Roman senators peersof kings! And she, daughter of the Cornelii and Claudii, whoseancestors had broken the might of Antiochus the Great andMithridates--should she not look in the face the heiress of theLagidæ? Had not one hundred years before Popilius, the Romancommissioner, come unarmed into the presence of Antiochus Epiphanes, while he was advancing to the gates of defenceless Alexandria, drawn acircle in the dust about the king, and bidden him answer, before hestepped over, whether he would court destruction or obey the mandateof the Republic and leave Egypt in peace? And had not the great kingobeyed--humbly? Why, then, should not a Roman patrician maiden lookdown on a mere monarch, who was a pawn in the hands of her kinsfolkand countrymen?

To repeat these things is long. The mind moves faster than thesunlight. Cornelia came to the dais, and there gave the slightestinclination of her head--the greeting of a mistress to slaves--to thegroup of courtiers. She advanced straight toward the royal chair andstretched forth her hand. 

"I am your debtor, O queen, for a kindness that I may not soon, Ifear, repay--unless you come to Rome. "

She spoke as a superior addressing an inferior who had rendered someslight service. The queen rose from her seat and took the profferedhand without the least hesitation. 

"And I will ask for none other reward than that you do honour to myentertainment. "

The voice was wonderfully soft, modulated, and ringing; like aninstrument of many strings. Every syllable blended into the next inperfect harmony; to hear a few words was like listening unto music. 

Cornelia knew later, when she was older and had thought more, that thequeen had instantly caught the defiant mood of her guest, andthereupon left nothing unspared to conciliate it. At that moment, however, she attempted no such analysis of motive. She was consciousof only one thing: the luminous personality of Cleopatra. The queenwas all that Cornelia had noticed her to be when they met at the GreatSquare; but she was more than a beautiful woman. In fact, in merebodily perfection Monime or Berenice might well have stood beside her. The glance of the queen went through and through her guests likearrows of softly burning light. It was impossible to withdraw one'seyes from her; impossible to shake off the spell of an enjoyablemagnetism. If she moved her long, shapely fingers, it was speech; ifshe raised her hand, eloquence. As shade after shade of varyingemotion seemed to pass across Cleopatra's face, it was as if one sawthe workings of a masterful spirit as in a mirror; and now could cry, "This is one of the Graces, " and now "This is one of the Fates, " ashalf-girlish candour and sweetness was followed by a lightning flashfrom the eyes, disclosing the deep, far-recessed subtleties of thesoul within. Cornelia had entered the hall haughty, defiant; a wordand a look--she was the most obedient vassal. 

Cornelia had seen many a splendid banquet and dinner party in Rome. Even Oriental kings had not a great deal to teach the "masters of thetoga" in ostentatious luxury. Perhaps the queen had realized this. Thepresent occasion called, indeed for very little formality, for, besides Cornelia, Cleomenes was the only guest; and when thatgentleman inquired politely if his Majesty, the King Ptolemæus, was tohonour them with his presence, Cleopatra replied, with an eloquentraising of the eyebrows:--

"The king will be to-night, as he always is, with histutor--Pothinus. "

There was indescribable scorn in the last word. 

The doors of the reception hall had been flung back on noiselesspivots by unseen hands. The banqueting room disclosed within was notso much a room as a garden. Flowers, flowers were everywhere, roses, violets, narcissuses, and a score of others breathing forth a heavyfragrance. Overhead, the goldstudded ceiling was converted into a vastarbour of blending flowery tints. The room was large, very large foronly three banqueters; on the walls, from out between the pottedtropical plants, shone marvellous marble reliefs, one hundred in all;and in betwixt them were matchless paintings. Framing, after afashion, the pictures, were equally perfect embroideries, portrayingin silk and fine linen the stories of Thebes, the kingly house ofArgos, and many another myth of fame. The pillars of the roomrepresented palm trees and Bacchic thyrsi; skins of wild beasts werefastened high up to the walls; and everywhere was the sheen of silverand gold, the splendour of scarlet and purple tapestries. 

"The decorations of this room, " said the queen, as her two guestsentered, "are nearly all preserved from the great banqueting pavilionof Ptolemæus Philadelphus, which he erected for the grand festivalthat ushered in his reign. "

Cornelia drew back as her foot crossed the threshold. Her sandals trodon the fair white cup of a blooming lily. The queen laughed as merrilyas a little girl at her confusion. 

"In Rome, I doubt not, " she said, smiling, "there are not flowersenough at this time of year to have them for a carpet. But this isAlexandria. Flowers are never out of bloom. "

So Cornelia advanced, but perhaps it grieved her more to tread on theinnocent flowers, than any small thing had since she left Baiæ. 

And then the banquet, if such it may be termed when there are butthree to enjoy it, began. Cleopatra knew well that she could notoverwhelm her Roman guest with show of plate and gems, nor did shetry. But Cornelia forgot about such things long before they rose. Forthe queen displayed to her a myriad dainty perfections and refinementsthat never had endeared themselves to the grosser Italian gourmands. Cleomenes had whispered to his companion, before they reached thepalace, "Plato tells of four sorts of flattery; but I can promise youa thousand sorts from Cleopatra if she but cares to win yourfriendship. " And surely the queen did thus desire. For Cornelia wassurfeited with strange dishes, and rare sherbets, flowers, and music;surfeited with everything save the words that fell from the lips ofCleopatra. 

The more the queen spoke, the more complete became the vassalage ofher guest. Cornelia discovered that this woman, who was but littleolder than she, could speak fluently seven languages, and carriedabout with her an exceedingly accurate knowledge, not merely of theadministration of Egypt, but of the politics of Rome, and the detailsof the great contest racking the Republic. When Cleopatra askedquestions concerning Roman affairs, Cornelia was fain to confessignorance and be put to shame. And as the evening advanced, Corneliafound herself talking with more and more confidence to this woman thatshe had never addressed until an hour before. Cleopatra of courseknew, as all Alexandria knew, that Cornelia and Fabia were Romanladies of the highest rank, who had been forced to take refuge abroaduntil the political crisis was over. But now Cornelia told the queenthe true reasons that had led her to be willing to submit toDemetrius's friendly kidnapping; and when, in a burst offrankness, --which in a saner moment Cornelia would have deemedunwise, --she told of her betrothal to Drusus and willingness to waitlong for him, if they might only come together in the end, the queenseemed unable to speak with her usual bright vivacity. Presently shesaid:--

"So you love this young man as none other? You are willing to be allyour life his handmaid, his slave?"

"I love him, assuredly, " said Cornelia, with a little heat. "And sofar as being all my life his slave, I've given that never so much as athought. Where love is, there slavery cannot be. "

"And where love is not, there slavery must be, doubtless you wish toadd?" broke in the queen. 

"I should be very miserable if I had nothing to love, which I mightlove purely, and feel myself the nobler and happier thereby. "

"Then pity us poor mortals who cannot climb up to your Olympus! Eh, myvery noble Cleomenes, " went on the queen, addressing the Greek, "do Inot deserve compassion, that I have not been able to find someTigranes of Armenia, or Parthian prince, who will be all in all to me, and make me forget everything in worshipping him?"

These were the first words that evening that had grated on Cornelia. Alittle ruffled, she replied:--

"I fear, O queen, that if you are awaiting a Tigranes or an Artavasdesto sue for your hand, you will indeed never find a lord to worship. Quintus Drusus is indeed wealthy at Rome, his family noble, he mayrise to great things; but I would not lay down my life for him becauseof his wealth, his lineage, or his fair prospects. It is not thesethings which make a common woman love a man. "

"But I am not a common woman, " responded Cleopatra, with emphasis. "Iam ambitious, not to be led, but to lead. I must rule or I must die. Icannot love a master, only fear him. Why, because I was born a woman, must I give up all my royal aspirations to rise to a great place amongprinces, to build up a great empire in the East, to make Alexandria acapital with the power of Rome, the culture of Athens, the splendourof Babylon, all in one? It is because I have these hopes stirring inme that I may love no man, can love no man! Nothing shall stand in myway; nothing shall oppose me. Whoever thwarts my ambitions, the worsefor him; let him die--all things must die, but not I, until I have wonmy power and glory!"

For once, at least, the queen's emotions had run away with her; shespoke hotly, passionately, as though tearing her words from therecesses of her throbbing heart. Her wonderful voice was keyed inhalf-bitter defiance. For the moment Cornelia was mistress, and notthe queen. 

"O queen, " broke in the young Roman, "would you know how I feel towardyou?"

Cleopatra looked at her with dilated eyes. 

"I feel for you a very great sorrow. I know not whether you will orwill not do as you wish--set your empire over the far East, a rival, friendly, I hope, to our Rome; but this I know, that with your glory, and with your renown among men for all time, you will go down to yourgrave with an empty heart. And I know not what may compensate forthat. "

Cleomenes was clearly a little disturbed at this turn to theconversation; but Cleopatra bowed her head on her hands. It was onlyfor an instant. When she looked up once more there were tears in hereyes, which she made no effort to conceal. The look of high defiancehad faded from her face. 

"Think kindly of me, Lady Cornelia, " she said; "I am but a wilful girlwith many things to learn. Perhaps you yourself know that purple robesdo not make a light heart. "

"That I know well and sadly. "

"Therefore, " went on the queen, "if I forget myself, and half envy acup of happiness that seems dashed from my lips, do not be overblameful. "

"Never, " responded the young Roman. 

"Time advances, " said the queen; "let us forget that any barriers shutus out from perfect bliss. Let us call in the Egyptian musicians; andcry out upon me if my looks grow sad!"

Whereat a whole section in the side of the room turned on a pivot, andthere entered three native harpers and eight pretty Egyptian girls, ingauzy dresses, who danced in intricate figures, and juggled withballs; now with two, now with three, catching them with their handscrossed. Boys ran in and out and sprinkled _kyphi_[174] on the headsof the three feasters, and flung huge wreaths of flowers round theirnecks, and thrust lotus flowers in their hair. And all the time thegirls sang sweetly. 

 [174] A mixture of myrrh, frankincense, and other aromatic materials. 

The queen kept her guests very late. 

"We of Alexandria, " said she, "make little difference between nightand day. Our city is a new Sybaris. "

And all through the evening Cleopatra kept close to Cornelia, oftenwith her hand upon her, as though extremely loath to let her go. Atlast the moon crept up into the heavens, and as the queen and herguests roved out of the heated banqueting hall into the cool gardens, the pale yellow light gently bathed the sweep of the city, which layin full view of the palace terrace. 

"All sleep, " said Cleopatra, "all but ourselves. Let there be one moresong, and then farewell!--but soon to meet again. "

The chorus of maidens, which followed them, sang, in Greek, the hymnof Onomacritus:[175]--

 [175] Elton, translator. 

 "Heavenly Selene! goddess queen! that shed'st abroad the light! Bull-horned moon! air-habiting! thou wanderer through the night! Moon bearer of mighty torch! thou star-encircled maid! Woman thou, yet male the same, still fresh and undecayed! Thou that in thy steeds delightest, as they travel through the sky, Clothed in brightness! mighty mother of the rapid years that fly; Fruit dispenser! amber-visaged! melancholy, yet serene! All beholding! sleep-enamour'd! still with trooping planets seen! Quiet loving; who in pleasance and in plenty tak'st delight; Joy diffusing! Fruit maturing! Sparkling ornament of night! Swiftly pacing! ample-vested! star-bright! all divining maid! Come benignant! come spontaneous! with starry sheen arrayed! Sweetly shining! save us virgin, give thy holy suppliants aid!"

"Yes, " said Cleopatra, passing her hand over her brow, "give us aid, either thou, O moon, or some other power, for we are full weakourselves. "

When the queen parted with her guests she put her arms aroundCornelia's waist and kissed her on the forehead. 

"I sent for you, " said Cleopatra, "half intending to amuse myself withthe boorishness and clumsy insolence which I conceived a noble Romanlady to possess. I have been punished. Promise to come to see meoften, very often, or I shall call my body-guards and keep youprisoner. For I have very few friends. "

While the chariot was bearing the two guests away, Cleomenes askedCornelia what she thought of the queen. 

"She is the most wonderful woman I have ever met, " was her answer, enthusiastic and characteristically feminine. "I admire her. I amalmost her slave. "

The frequency of Cornelia's visits to the palace on following daysseemed to prove that the admiration was not unreciprocated. Indeed, Monime and Berenice grew jealous of the queen for stealing their newfriend from them. 

Chapter XXI

How Ulamhala's Words Came True

I

The sentries were going their rounds; the camp-fires were burning low. Over on the western hills bounding the Thessalian plain-land lingeredthe last bars of light. It was oppressively warm, and man and beastwere utterly fatigued. Quintus Drusus stripped off his armour, andflung himself on the turf inside his tattered leather tent. Vast hadbeen the changes eighteen months of campaigning had made in him. Hehad fought in Italy, in Spain, in the long blockade of the Pompeiansat Dyrrachium. He had learned the art of war in no gentle school. Hehad ceased even so much as to grumble inwardly at the hardshipsendured by the hard-pressed Cæsarian army. The campaign was not goingwell. Pompeius had broken through the blockade; and now the two armieshad been executing tedious manoeuvres, fencing for a vantage-groundbefore joining pitched battle. 

Drusus was exceedingly weary. The events of the past twoyears, --loves, hates, pleasures, perils, battles, --all coursed throughhis mind; the fairest and most hideous of things were blended intobuzzing confusion; and out of that confusion came a dull consciousnessthat he, Quintus Drusus, was thoroughly weary of everything andanything--was heavy of heart, was consumed with hatred, was chafingagainst a hundred barriers of time, space, and circumstance, and wasutterly impotent to contend against them. 

The Imperator--how he loved and adored him! Through all thecampaigning nothing could seem to break the strength of that nervous, agile, finely strung physique. Sleeping in carriages or litters; evermoving; dictating continually books and letters to a secretary if foran hour there was a halt; dictating even while on horseback, in fact, and composing two letters at the same time; riding the mostungovernable horses fearlessly and without a fall; galloping at fullspeed with his hands clasped behind his back, --these were the mereexternal traits that made him wonderful among men. Worthy of allpraise was the discipline by which the Imperator had held his troopsto him by bonds firmer than iron; neither noticing all pettytransgressions, nor punishing according to a rigid rule; swift andsure to apprehend mutineers and deserters; certain to relax the tightbands of discipline after a hard-fought battle with the genial remarkthat "his soldiers fought none the worse for being well oiled "; evertreating the troops as comrades, and addressing them as"fellow-soldiers, " as if they were but sharers with him in the honourof struggling for a single great end. Drusus had known him to ride onehundred miles a day in a light chariot without baggage, marchcontinually at the head of his legions on foot, sharing their fatiguesin the most malignant weather, swim a swollen river on a float ofinflated skins, always travelling faster than the news of his comingmight fly before him. Tireless, unsleeping, all providing, allaccomplishing, omniscient, --this was what made Drusus look upon hisgeneral as a being raised up by the Fates, to go up and down theworld, destroying here and building there. The immediate future mightbe sombre enough, with all the military advantages falling, one afteranother, into Pompeius's lap; but doubt the ultimate triumph of Cæsar?The young Livian would have as readily questioned his own existence. 

Some one thrust back the flaps of the tent, and called inside into thedarkness:--

"Are you here, Drusus?"

"I am, " was the wearied answer. "Is that Antonius?"

"Yes. Come out. We may as well dispose of our cold _puls_ before themoon rises, and while we can imagine it peacocks, Lucrine oysters, orwhat not. "

"If sight were the only sense!" grumbled Drusus, as he pulled himselftogether by a considerable effort, and staggered to his feet. 

Outside the tent Antonius was waiting with a helmet half full of thedelectable viand, which the two friends proceeded to share together asequally as they might in the increasing darkness. 

"You are over sober to-night, " said Antonius, when this scarcelyelaborate meal was nearly finished. 

"_Perpol!_" replied Drusus, "have I been as a rule drunken of late? Mythroat hardly knows the feeling of good Falernian, it is so long sinceI have tasted any. "

"I doubt if there is so much as a draught of _posca_[176] in thearmy, " said Antonius, yawning. "I imagine that among our friends, thePompeians, there is plenty, and more to spare. _Mehercle_, I feel thatwe must storm their camp just to get something worth drinking. But Iwould stake my best villa that you have not been so gloomy for merelack of victuals, unless you have just joined the Pythagoreans, andhave taken a vow not to eat fish or beans. "

 [176] A drink of vinegar and water very common among the soldiers. 

"I do not know that I am especially gloomy to-night, " replied Drusus, a bit testily. "I know little whereon to make merry. "

"The arrows of Amor, " hinted Antonius, "sink deep in the soul, and thegod is unfair; he shoots venomed darts; the poison ever makes the paingreater. "

"I would you could endure your own troubles, " retorted the other, "andlet me care for mine!"

"_Perpol, _ friend, " replied Antonius, "don't be vexed! I see it is acase of your wanting little said on a sore point. Well, keep silent, Iwon't tease you. Doesn't Theognis declare:--

 "'Caress me not with words, while far away Thy heart is absent and thy feelings stray'?[177]

 [177] Elton, translator. 

And doubtless you would reverse the saying and put 'my heart' for 'thyheart. ' Forgive me. "

But Drusus, now that the ice was broken, was glad to talk. 

"Now, amice, I won't harbour any ill feeling. I know that you don'tlook at women the way I do. If you had ever fallen in love with onelike Cornelia, it would have been different. As it is, you can onlystare at me, and say to yourself, 'How strange a sensible fellow likeDrusus should care for a girl from whom he has been parted for nearlytwo years!' That's why I doubt if your sympathy can be of any greatsolace to me. "

"Well, " said Antonius, washing down his _puls_ with a draught of waterfrom a second helmet at hand, "I can't say that I would be full ofgrief two years from the day my beloved Fulvia was taken from me. Butthere are women of many a sort. Some are vipers to sting your breast, some are playthings, some are--what shall I call them--goddesses? no, one may not kiss Juno; flowers? they fade too early; silver and gold?that is rubbish. I have no name for them. But believe me, Quintus, Ihave met this Cornelia of yours once or twice, and I believe that sheis one of those women for whom my words grow weak. "

"Then you can sympathize, can feel, for me, " said Drusus, as he layback with his head on the dark green sward. 

"Yes, as a poor man who has always possessed nothing can feel for arich merchant whose whole fortune is about to founder at sea. Do notspurn my feeble sort of pity. But do you know nothing of her, not aword, a sign? Is she alive or dead? Much less, does she still care foryou?"

"Nothing!" answered Drusus, and the sense of vexation and helplessnesschoked his utterance. "She vanished out of sight at Baiæ, as a flashof lightning passes away in the sky. I cannot imagine the cause of herdisappearance. The pirates, indeed, might have wished to take her forransom; but no, they bore her off with never a demand for money fromany friend or relative. I have tried to trace them--the Pompeian shipson every sea make it impossible. I have questioned many prisoners andspies; she is not at the Pompeian camp with her uncle. Neither can Idiscover that her kinsmen among the enemy themselves know where sheis. And to this is added that other mystery: whither has my Aunt Fabiavanished? How much of the account of those who followed her to theriver dock is to be believed--that pirates saved her from Gabinius, and then abducted her? Upon all, my clever freedman Agias isgone--gone without ever a word, though I counted him faithful as myown soul!"

"And what then do you expect?" asked Antonius, not without friendlyinterest. 

"What can a man, who dares to look the situation in the face, expect, except something too horrible to utter?" and Drusus groaned in hisagony. 

"You mean--" began his friend. 

"That the pirates have kept Cornelia and perhaps Fabia in their vileclutches until this hour; unless, indeed, the Fates have been mercifuland they are dead! Do you wonder at my pain?"

"_Phui!_ we will not imagine any such disagreeable thing!" saidAntonius, in a sickly effort to make banter at the other's fears. 

"Don't speak again unless you want me your enemy, " threatened Drusus, springing up in fury. Antonius knew his own interests enough to keepquiet; besides, his friend's pain cut him to the heart, and he knewhimself that Drusus's dread was justified under the circumstances. 

"Do you think there will be a battle to-morrow?" demanded Drusus, after some interval of gloomy silence. 

"I would to the gods it might be so, " was his answer; "are youthirsting for blood?"

Drusus half drew his short sword, which even in camp never left theside of officer or private during that campaign. 

"Thirst for blood?" he growled. "Yes, for the lives of LuciusLentulus, and Domitius and his accursed younger son. I am hot as anold gladiator for a chance to spill their blood! If Cornelia sufferswoe unutterable, it will be they--they who brought the evil upon her!It may not be a philosophic mood, but all the animal has risen withinme, and rises more and more the longer I think upon them and on_her_. "

"Come, " said Antonius, lifting his friend by the arm, "and let us liedown in the tent. There will be toil enough to-morrow; and we musttake what rest we may. "

II

On that same night, in a very sumptuous tent, fresh from an ampledinner and a season over choice wines, the high and the mighty ofCæsar's enemies were taking counsel together. No longer were theydespairing, panic-stricken fugitives, driven from their native landwhich they had abandoned a prey to the invader. The strength of theEast had gathered about them. Jews, Armenians, and Arabians were amongtheir auxiliary forces; Asia Minor, Greece, the Archipelago, hadpoured out for them levies and subsidies. In the encampment were thevassal kings, Deiotarus of Galatia and Ariarathes of Cappadocia, allies who would share the triumph of the victorious Pompeius. 

For none could doubt that the Magnus had proved his right to be calledthe favoured child of Fortune. Had not Cæsar been utterly defeated atDyrrachium? Was he not now almost a fugitive in the interior ofGreece, --liable at any moment to have his forces cut to pieces, and hehimself to be slain, in battle like a second Catilina, or to die bythe executioner's axe like another Carbo? Had not several delightedPompeians just hastened away to Lesbos, to convey to Cornelia, thewife of the Magnus, the joyful tidings that Cæsar's power was brokenand the war was over?

Throughout the Pompeian camps there was feasting and revelry, soldierstrolled low songs deriding their opponents, and drank themselvesstupid, celebrating in advance the return of the victorious army toItaly. Their officers were looking forward even more eagerly to theirreinstatement in their old haunts and pleasures at Rome. LuciusAhenobarbus, who was outside the tent of the Magnus, while his fatherwas taking part in the conference, was busy recounting to a crony thearrangements he was making. 

"I have sent a freedman back to Rome to see that my rooms arefurnished and put in order. But I have told him that I need a suitenear the Forum, if possible, so as to be convenient for the canvasswhen I sue for quæstor at the next election, for it is time I began onmy 'round of offices. '" (A "round of offices" being, according to thisworthy young gentleman, an inalienable right to every male scion ofhis family. )

Within the debate was waxing hot. Not that any one had the leastdoubts that the Cæsarians were at their last gasp; rather it was soextremely difficult to decide how the spoils of victory were to beequitably shared, and what was almost equally important, how thehostile and the neutral were to be punished. The noble lords were busysettling amongst themselves who should be consuls for several years tocome, and how the confiscated villas of the proscribed Cæsariansshould be divided. As to the military situation, they were allcomplaisance. 

"There is no need for a real battle, " Pompeius was saying. "Oursuperior cavalry will rout their whole army before the infantry jointhe attack. "

And Labienus, the only officer who had deserted Cæsar, protested thatthe opposing legions had long since been thinned of their Gallicveterans, that only raw recruits composed them now. 

Loudly the councillors wrangled over the successor to Cæsar'spontificate; Scipio, Domitius, and another great noble, LentulusSpinther, all had their claims. Domitius was clamouring against delayin disposing of Cæsar, and in returning to Italy, to begin a generaldistribution of spoils, and sanguinary requital of enemies andneutrals. The contest over the pontificate grew more and moreacrimonious each minute. 

"Gentlemen, " broke in Pompeius, "I would that you could agree amongstyourselves. It is a grievous thing that we must thus quarrel withbitterness, when victory is within our grasp. "

But the war of words went on hotter and hotter. Lentulus Crus noticedthat Pompeius looked pale and worried. 

"You look careworn, Magnus, " he whispered; "it will be a relief forthe burdens of war to be off your shoulders!"

"I know not how this all will come out, " said the general. "All thechances are in our favour. We have numbers, the best position, cavalry, the prestige of victory. Labienus cannot be mistaken in hisestimate of Cæsar's men; yet I am afraid, I am almost timorous. "

"It is but the natural fear lest some slight event dim yourexcellency's great glory. Our position is too secure for reverse, "remarked Lentulus, soothingly. 

"Great glory--" repeated Pompeius, "yes, that makes me afraid. Remember Ulamhala's words, --they haunt me:--

 "'He that is highest shall rise yet higher, He that is second shall utterly fall. '

Lentulus, I _know_ Cæsar is greater than I!"

Before he could continue, Labienus had risen to his feet in thecouncil. 

"An oath! an oath, gentlemen!" cried the renegade legate. "Swear allafter me! 'By Jupiter Capitolinus, Optimus, Maximus, I swear not toreturn from the battle until victorious over Cæsar!'"

All the council rose. 

"We swear!" cried a score of tongues, as though their oath was thelightest thing imaginable. 

"Bravely done!" shouted Labienus, while the two Lentuli and Domitiusand Scipio and many another scion of the great noble houses joined inthe oath. "_Hem!_ Most excellent Magnus, you do not have confidenceenough in your own cause to join us. Do you doubt our loyalty orsoldierly qualities!"

"_Perpol!_" replied Pompeius, with a rather ill-concealed effort tospeak gayly, "do you think, good Labienus, that I am as distrustful ofyou as Cæsar ought to be of his men?"

And the Magnus also took the oath. 

Outside the tent the sentries were exchanging their challenges. It wasthe end of the second watch of the night. [178]

 [178] Midnight. 

"It is late, gentlemen, " said Pompeius. "I believe that I have givenmy orders. Remember our watch word for to-morrow. "

"Hercules Invictus!" shouted one and all. 

"Unconquerable' we shall be, I trust, " continued thecommander-in-chief. "Good-night, gentlemen; we meet to-morrow. "

The council broke up, and filed out of the tent. Lentulus Spintherpaused to cast a look of savage anger at Scipio, who lingered behind. The contest over the pontificate still rankled in his breast. Thatfour and twenty hours hence both of these aristocratic gentlemen mighthave more pressing things to think of seemingly entered the head ofneither. Lentulus Crus, Domitius, and Scipio waited after the otherswere gone. 

"I have been wondering all day, " said the genial Domitius, when thetent had emptied, "how Cæsar will comport himself if he is takenprisoner and not slain in battle. I give him credit for not beinglikely to flee away. "

"I trust he will die a soldier's death, " replied Pompeius, gloomily. "It would be a grievous thing to have him fall into my hands. He hasbeen my friend, my father-in-law. I could not treat him harshly. "

"Doubtless, " said the ever suave Lentulus Crus, "it would be mostdisagreeable for you, Magnus, to have to reward such an enemy of theRepublic as he deserves. But your excellency will, of course, bow tothe decrees of the Senate, and--I fear it will be very hard topersuade the conscript fathers that Cæsar has earned any mercy. "

"_Vah!_ gentlemen, " retorted Pompeius, pressing his hands together, and walking up and down: "I have been your tool a long while! I neverat heart desired this war! A hundred times I would draw back, but youin some way prevented. I have been made to say things that I wouldfain have left unsaid. I am perhaps less educated and moresuperstitious than you. I believe that there are gods, and they punishthe shedders of innocent blood. And much good Roman blood has beenshed since you had your way, and drove Cæsar into open enmity!"

"Of course, " interposed Domitius, his face a little flushed withsuppressed anger, "it is a painful thing to take the lives offellow-countrymen; but consider the price that patriots must pay forliberty. "

"Price paid for liberty, " snorted Pompeius, in rising disgust, "_phui!_ Let us at least be honest, gentlemen! It is very easy to cryout on tyrants when our ambition has been disappointed. But I amwasting words. Only this let me say. When, to-morrow, we have slain orcaptured our enemy, it will be _I_ that determine the future policy ofthe state, and not _you_! I will prove myself indeed the Magnus! Iwill be a tool no longer. "

The three consulars stared at each other, at loss for words. 

"Time wastes, gentlemen, " said Pompeius. "To your several commands!You have your orders. "

The Magnus spoke in a tone that admonished the three oligarchs to bowin silence and go out without a word. 

"His excellency is a bit tempted to play the high tragedian to-night, "sneered Domitius, recovering from his first consternation. "He willthink differently to-morrow. But of all things, my good Lentulus (ifit comes your way), see that Cæsar is quietly killed--no matter whatfashion; it will save us endless trouble. "

"_Mehercle!_" quoth the other, "do I need that advice? And againremind me to-morrow of this. We must arrange the dividing of theestate of that young reprobate, Quintus Drusus, who gave us someanxiety two years ago. But I imagine that must be deferred until afterthe battle. "

And so they separated, and the two armies--scarce five milesapart--slept; and the stars watched over them. 

III

The sun was climbing out of the dark bank of clouds that pressed downupon the eastern horizon. The green plain of Pharsalus lay spread outfar and wide under the strengthening light; the distant hills werepeering dimly out from the mist; the acropolis of Pharsalusitself, --perhaps the Homeric Phthia, dwelling of Achilles, --with itstwo peaked crags, five hundred feet in height, frowned down upon theCæsarian camp. The Enipeus and one or two minor streams were threadingtheir way in silver ribbons down toward the distant Peneus. Thefertile plain was green and verdant with the bursting summer. Thescent of clover hung in the air, and with it the fragrance of thyme. Wild flowers were scattered under the feet. The early honeybee washovering over the dew-laden petals. Wakeful thrushes were carollingout of the thickets. A thin grey fog was drifting off of the valley, soon to vanish in the blue of a perfect day. Clear and sweet the notesof the trumpets called the soldiers from their camp. The weary menshook the sleep from their eyes. There was a hurried pounding of grainin the stone mortars, breakfasts even more hurried. Then again thetrumpets called out their signal. Busy hands tore up the tent pegs, other hands were folding the coverings, gathering up the poles andimpedimenta, and loading them on the baggage animals. 

The soldiers were grumbling as soldiers will. Drusus, who emerged fromhis own tent just as it was about to be pulled down about his ears, heard one private growl to another: "Look at the sun rising! What ahot day we shall have! _Ædepol!_ will there never be an end to thismarching and countermarching, skirmishing and intrenching, --water todrink, _puls_ to eat, --I didn't take the oath[179] for that. Noplunder here, and the sack of Gomphi, the last town stormed, amountedto nothing. "

 [179] The military oath of obedience. 

Drusus would have rebuked the man for breeding discontent in the army, but at that moment he and every other around him for once relaxed thatstringent discipline that held them in bands of iron. A third trumpetcall cut the air, quick, shrill, penetrating. 

"To arms!" Every centurion was shouting it to his men. The baggageanimals were left unladen. A cohort that was about to leave the campin marching order halted, and began to throw away its impedimenta, when Cæsar himself rode up to them. 

"Fellow-soldiers, " said the Imperator, smiling as though he had toreveal a great piece of good fortune, "we can postpone the march. Letus put our hearts into the battle for which we have longed, and meetthe foe with resolute souls, for now or never is our opportunity!"

"_Io! Io!_" cried a thousand hoarse throats. 

Out of confusion came the most perfect order. Drusus ran to the horsethat he had yielded for a pack animal on the march, saddled, mounted, flew away to Cæsar's side, his heart pounding in his breast. 

"Pompeius is leading out his men!" soldier was shouting to soldier. Legion after legion filed forth from the camp. Cæsar, sitting witheasy grace on his own favourite charger which he himself had bred, gave in calm, deliberate voice the last orders to his legates. Drususdrew rein at the general's side, ready to go anywhere or do anythingthat was needed, his position being one of general aide-de-camp. 

Cæsar was facing east; Pompeius, west. Five miles of mainly levelcountry had extended between the camps, but Pompeius had pitched on ahill site, with a river and hills to flank him. There he might safelyhave defied attack. But he had come down from the eminence. He had ledhis army out into the plain, and the camp was a full mile behind. Thelong ranks of the Pompeians were splendid with all the bravery of war. On the right wing by the river lay his Cilician and Spanish cohorts, led by Lentulus Crus, --the flower of the Pompeian infantry. Scipioheld the centre with two Syrian legions. On the left, Domitius was incommand and Pompeius accompanied him. Seven cohorts were behind in thefortified camp. A great mass of auxiliaries and volunteers, as well astwo thousand reenlisted veterans, gave strength to the lines of fullyrecruited cohorts. Out on the left wing, reaching up on to thefoothills, lay the pride of the oligarchs, seven thousand splendidcavalry, the pick and flower of the exiled youth and nobility of Rome, reenforced by the best squadrons of the East. Here Labienus led. ThePompeian ranks were in three lines, drawn up ten deep. Forty-fivethousand heavy infantry were they; and the horse and light troops werehalf as many--Spaniards, Africans, Italian exiles, Greeks, Asiatics--the glory of every warlike, classic race. 

Slowly, slowly, the Cæsarian legionaries advanced over the plain. Drusus knew that one of the most crucial hours of his life was beforehim, yet he was very calm. He saw some wild roses growing on a bush bythe way, and thought how pretty they would look in a wreath onCornelia's hair. He exchanged jokes with his fellow-officers; scoldeda soldier who had come away without his sword in his sheath; askedAntonius, when he came across him, if he did not envy Achilles for hiscountry-seat. It was as if he were going on the same tedious march ofdays and days gone by. Yet, with it all he felt himself far moreintensely excited than ever before. He knew that his calm was sounnatural that he wished to cry aloud, to run, weep, to do anything tobreak it. This was to be the end of the great drama that had begun theday Lentulus and Marcellus first sat down as consuls!

Slowly, slowly, that long snake, the marching army, dragged out of thecamp. The sun was high in the sky; the last cloud had vanished; theblue above was as clear and translucent as it is conceivable anythingmay be and yet retain its colour--not become clear light. The head ofthe column was six hundred paces from the silent Pompeian lines whichawaited them. Then cohort after cohort filed off to the right andleft, and the line of battle was ready. On the right was the tenthlegion, on the left the weak ninth, reenforced by the eighth. Therewere eighty cohorts in all, to oppose one hundred and ten. But theranks of Cæsar's cohorts were thin. The numbers were scarce half asmany as in those of the foe. And to confront Labienus and his cavalryCæsar had but one thousand horse. His army stood in three lines, facing the enemy's infantry; but, though it weakened his own legionsdangerously, there was but one thing to do, unless Labienus was toforce around the flank, and sweep all before him. Six cohorts Cæsarstationed at the rear of his right wing, a defence against the hostilecavalry. The third line of the legions the Imperator commanded to holdback until he ordered them otherwise, for on them lay the turning ofthe battle. 

Antonius commanded the left, Publius Sulla the right, Calvinus thecentre. Cæsar himself took post on his own right wing oppositePompeius. Then, when the lines were formed, he rode down before hismen, and addressed them; not in gaudy eloquence, as if to stir aflagging courage, but a manly request that they quit themselves asbecame his soldiers. Ever had he sought reconciliation, he said, everpeace; unwillingly had he exposed his own soldiers, and unwillinglyattacked his enemies. And to the six chosen cohorts in the fourth linehe gave a special word, for he bade them remember that doubtless ontheir firmness would depend the fate of the battle. 

"Yes, " he said in closing, while every scarred and tattered veteranlaughed at the jest, "only thrust your pila in the faces of thosebrave cavaliers. They will turn and flee if their handsome faces arelikely to be bruised. " And a grim chuckle went down the line, relieving the tension that was making the oldest warriors nervous. 

Cæsar galloped back to his position on his own right wing. The legionswere growing restive, and there was no longer cause for delay. Theofficers were shouting the battle-cry down the lines. The Imperatornodded to his trumpeter, and a single sharp, long peal cut the air. The note was drowned in the rush of twenty thousand feet, the howl ofmyriads of voices. 

"_Venus victrix!_" The battle-cry was tossed from mouth to mouth, louder and louder, as the mighty mass of men in iron swept on. 

"Venus victrix!" And the shout itself was dimmed in the crash ofmortal battle, when the foremost Cæsarians sent their pila dashing inupon the enemy, and closed with the short sword, while their comradespiled in upon them. Crash after crash, as cohort struck cohort; and sothe battle joined. 

 * * * * *

Why was the battle of Pharsalus more to the world than fifty otherstricken fields where armies of strength equal to those engaged therejoined in conflict? Why can these other battles be passed over asdates and names to the historian, while he assigns to this a positionbeside Marathon and Arbela and Tours and the Defeat of the Armada andWaterloo and Gettysburg? What was at stake--that Cæsar or Pompeius andhis satellites should rule the world? Infinitely more--the strugglewas for the very existence of civilization, to determine whether ornot the fabric of ordered society was to be flung back into chaos. TheRoman Republic had conquered the civilized world; it had thrown downkings; it had destroyed the political existence of nations. What butfeebleness, corruption, decay, anarchy, disintegration, disruption, recurring barbarism, had the oligarchs, for whom Pompeius was fightinghis battle, to put in the place of what the Republic had destroyed?Could a Senate where almost every man had his price, where almostevery member looked on the provinces as a mere feeding ground forpersonal enrichment--could such a body govern the world? Were notGerman and Gaul ready to pluck this unsound organism called theRepublic limb from limb, and where was the reviving, regeneratingforce that was to hold them back with an iron hand until a forcegreater than that of the sword was ready to carry its evangel unto allnations, Jew, Greek, Roman, barbarian, --bond and free? These were thequestions asked and answered on that ninth day of August, forty-nineyears, before the birth of a mightier than Pompeius Magnus or JuliusCæsar. And because men fought and agonized and died on those plains byPharsalus, the edict could go from Rome that all the world should betaxed, and a naturalized Roman citizen could scorn the howls of theprovincial mobs, could mock at Sanhedrins seeking his blood, and cry:_"Civis Romanus sum. Cæsarem appello!"_

How long did the battle last? Drusus did not know. No one knew. Heflew at the heels of his general's charger, for where Cæsar went therethe fight was thickest. He saw the Pompeian heavy infantry standingstolidly in their ranks to receive the charge--a fatal blunder, thatlost them all the enthusiasm aggression engenders. The Cæsarianveterans would halt before closing in battle, draw breath, and dashover the remaining interval with redoubled vigour. The Pompeiansreceived them manfully, sending back javelin for javelin; then theshort swords flashed from their scabbards, and man pressed againstman--staring into one another's face--seeking one another's blood;striking, striking with one thought, hope, instinct--to stride acrosshis enemy's dead body. 

The Pompeian reserves ran up to aid their comrades in the line. Theodds against the Cæsarian cohorts were tremendous. The pressure ofshield against shield never abated. Woe to the man who lost footingand fell; his life was trampled out in a twinkling! The battle-criesgrew fewer and fewer; shouting requires breath; breath, energy; andevery scruple of energy was needed in pushing on those shields. Therewere few pila left now. The short swords dashed upon the armour, butin the press even to swing a blade was difficult. More and moreintense grew the strain; Cæsarians gave ground here and then regainedit. Pompeians did the like yonder. The long reach of the line swayedto and fro, rippling like a dark ribbon in the wind. Now and then acombatant would receive a mortal wound, and go down out of sight inthe throng, which closed over him almost ere he could utter one sharpcry. 

Cæsar was everywhere. His voice rang like a clarion down the lines; heknew, as it were, each soldier by name--and when a stout blow was tobe struck, or a stand was needed to bear up against the weight ofhostile numbers, Cæsar's praise or admonition to stand firm was as afresh cohort flung into the scale. Drusus rode with him, both mounted, hence unable to mingle in the press, but exposed to the showers ofarrows and sling-stones which the Pompeian auxiliaries rained uponthem. Cæsar's red paludamentum marked him out a conspicuous figure forthe aim of the missiles, but he bore a charmed life. 

Drusus himself did what he could to steady the men. The contest in theline of battle could not continue long, flesh and blood might notendure the strain. 

"Imperator, " cried Drusus, riding up to his chief, "you see that thiscan last no longer. Our men are overmatched. Shall I order up thethird line? The centurion Crastinus, who swore that he would win yourgratitude living or dead, is slain after performing deeds worthy ofhis boast. Many others have gone down. What shall I do?"

Cæsar drew rein, and cast his eyes down the swaying lines. 

"I dare not order up the third line so early, " he began; then, with aglance to the extreme right, "Ah, _Mehercle!_ we are at the crisisnow! Our cavalry have given way before the enemy's horse. They areoutflanking us!"

"The six cohorts!" cried Drusus. 

"The six cohorts--ride! Make them stop those horse, or all is lost! Onyour life, go!"

And away went Drusus. The supreme moment of his life had come. Thewhole act of being, he felt, he knew, had been only that he might liveat that instant. What the next hour had in store--life, death--hecared not at all. The Cæsarian horse, outnumbered seven to one, hadfought valiantly, but been borne back by sheer weight of numbers. Withnot a man in sight to oppose them, the whole mass of the splendidPompeian cavalry was sweeping around to crush the unprotected flank ofthe tenth legion. The sight of the on-rushing squadrons was beyondwords magnificent. The tossing mass of their panoplies was a sea ofscarlet, purple, brass, and flashing steel; the roar of the hoof-beatsof seven thousand blooded coursers swept on like the approaching ofthe wind leading the clouds in whose breast are thunder and lightningunfettered. Behind them rose the dun vapour of the dust, drifting uptoward heaven, --the whirling vortex of the storm. It was indeed thecrisis. 

The six cohorts were standing, resting on their shields, in the rearof the extreme right flank of the third line. They were in an obliqueformation. The most distant cohort extended far back, and far beyondthe Cæsarian line of battle. The hearts of the soldiers were in thedeathly press ahead, but they were veterans; discipline held themquiet, albeit restive in soul. 

On swept the roar of the advancing Pompeians. What must be done mustbe done quickly. Drusus drove the spurs into his horse, and approachedthe cohorts on a headlong gallop. 

"Forward! I will lead you against the enemy!"

No need of second command. The maniples rushed onward as though themen were runners in a race, not soldiers clothed in armour. Drususflew down the ranks and swung the farthest cohorts into alignment withthe others. There was not a moment to lose. 

"Now, men, if ye be indeed soldiers of Cæsar, at them!"

Drusus was astounded at the resonance of his own voice; a thousandothers caught up the shout. 

"_Venus victrix!_" And straight into the teeth of the galloping hostscharged the thin line of infantry. 

The line was weak, its members strong. They were rural Italians, uncorrupted by city life, hardy, god-fearing peasants and sons ofpeasants, worthy descendants of the men who died in the legions atCannæ, or triumphed at the Metaurus. Steady as on a review the sixcohorts bore down into action. And when they struck the great mass ofhorsemen they thrust their pila into the riders' eyes and prodded thesteeds. The foremost cavalrymen drew rein; the horses reared. Thesquadrons were colliding and plunging. In an eye's twinkling theirmomentum had been checked. 

"Charge! Charge!" Drusus sent the word tossing down along the cohorts, and the legionaries pressed forward. It was done. The whole splendidarray of horsemen broke in rout; they went streaming back indisordered squadrons over the plain, each trooper striving to outridehis fellow in the flight. Pompeius had launched his most deadly bolt, and it had failed. 

Now was Drusus's chance. No further order had been given him; topursue cavalry with infantry were folly; he needed no new commands. The six cohorts followed his lead like machinery. The crash of battledimmed his voice; the sight of his example led the legionaries on. They fell on the Pompeian archers and slingers and dispersed them likesmoke. They wheeled about as on a pivot and struck the enemy's leftwing; struck the Pompeian fighting line from the rear, and crushed itbetwixt the upper and nether millstone of themselves and the tenthlegion. Drusus drove into the very foremost of the fight; it was nolonger a press, it was flight, pursuit, slaughter, and he forced hishorse over one enemy after another--transformed, transfigured as hewas into a demon of destruction, while the delirium of battle gainedupon him. 

Drusus saw the figure of a horseman clothed, like Cæsar, in a redgeneral's cloak spurring away to the enemy's camp. He called to hismen that Pompeius had taken panic and fled away; that the battle waswon. He saw the third line of the Cæsarians drive through the Pompeiancentre and right as a plough cuts through the sandy field, and thenspread terror, panic, rout--the battle became a massacre. 

So the Cæsarians hunted their foes over the plain to the camp. And, though the sun on high rained down a pitiless heat, none faltered whenthe Imperator bade them use their favour with Fortune, and lose not amoment in storming the encampment. They assailed the ramparts. ThePompeian reserve cohorts stood against them like men; the Thracian andother auxiliary light troops sent down clouds of missiles--of whatavail? There are times when mortal might can pass seas of fire andmountains of steel; and this was one of those moments. The Pompeianswere swept from the ramparts by a pitiless shower of javelins. Thepanic still was upon them; standards of cohorts, eagles of legions, they threw them all away. They fled--fled casting behind shields, helmets, swords, anything that hindered their running. The hills, themountain tops, were their only safety. Their centurions and tribuneswere foremost among the fugitives. And from these mountain crests theywere to come down the next morning and surrender themselves prisonersto the conquerors--petitioners for their lives. 

Not all were thus fated. For in the flight from the camp Domitius felldown from fatigue, and Marcus Antonius, whose hand knew no weariness, neither his heart remorse or mercy, slew him as a man would slay asnake. And so perished one of the evil spirits that hounded Pompeiusto his death, the Roman oligarchy to its downfall. 

Drusus sought far and wide for Lentulus and Lucius Ahenobarbus. Theconsular had fought on the most distant wing, and in the flight he andhis mortal enemy did not meet. Neither did Drusus come upon theyounger son of the slain Domitius. Fortune kept the two asunder. Butslaying enough for one day the young Livian had wrought. He rode withCæsar through the splendid camp just captured. The flowers had beentwined over the arbours under which the victory was to be celebrated;the plate was on the tables; choice viands and wines were ready; thefloors of the tents were covered with fresh sods; over the pavilion ofLentulus Crus was a great shade of ivy. The victors rode out from thearbours toward the newly taken ramparts. There lay the dead, heapsupon heaps, the patrician dress proclaiming the proud lineage of thefallen; Claudii, Fabii, Æmilii, Furii, Cornelii, Sempronii, and adozen more great _gentes_ were represented--scions of the mostmagnificent oligarchy the world has ever seen. And this was their end!Cæsar passed his hand over his forehead and pressed his fingers uponhis eyes. 

"They would have it so, " he said, in quiet sadness, to the little knotof officers around him. "After all that I had done for my country, I, Caius Cæsar, would have been condemned by them like a criminal, if Ihad not appealed to my army. "

And so ended that day and that battle. On the field and in the camplay dead two hundred Cæsarians and fifteen thousand Pompeians. Twenty-four thousand prisoners had been taken, one hundred and eightystandards, nine eagles. As for the Magnus, he had stripped off hisgeneral's cloak and was riding with might and main for the seacoast, accompanied by thirty horsemen. 

Chapter XXII

The End of the Magnus

I

The months had come and gone for Cornelia as well as for QuintusDrusus, albeit in a very different manner. The war was raging uponland and sea. The Pompeian fleet controlled all the water avenues; theItalian peninsula was held by the Cæsarians. Cornelia wrote severaltimes to old Mamercus at Præneste, enclosing a letter which she beggedhim to forward to her lover wherever he might be. But no answer came. Once she learned definitely that the ship had been captured. For theother times she could imagine the same catastrophe. Still she had hercomfort. Rumours of battles, of sieges, and arduous campaigningdrifted over the Mediterranean. Now it was that a few days more wouldsee Cæsar an outlaw without a man around him, and then Cornelia wouldbelieve none of it. Now it was that Pompeius was in sore straits, andthen she was all credulity. Yet beside these tidings there were otherstray bits of news very dear to her heart. Cæsar, so it was said, possessed a young aide-de-camp of great valour and ability, oneQuintus Drusus, and the Imperator was already entrusting him withposts of danger and of responsibility. He had behaved gallantly atIlerda; he had won more laurels at the siege of Massilia. AtDyrrachium he had gained yet more credit. And on account of thesetidings, it may easily be imagined that Cornelia was prepared to bevery patient and to be willing to take the trying vicissitudes of herown life more lightly. 

As a matter of fact, her own position at Alexandria had begun to growcomplicated. First of all, Agias had made one day a discovery in thecity which it was exceeding well for Artemisia was not postponed for alater occasion. Pratinas was in Alexandria. The young Greek had notbeen recognized when, as chance meetings will occur, he came acrosshis one-time antagonist face to face on the street. He had no fearsfor himself. But Artemisia was no longer safe in the city. Cleomenesarranged that the girl should be sent to a villa, owned by therelatives of his late wife, some distance up the Nile. Artemisia wouldthus be parted from Agias, but she would be quite safe; and to securethat, any sacrifice of stolen looks and pretty coquetry was cheerfullyaccepted. 

Soon after this unpleasant little discovery, a far more serious eventoccurred. Pothinus the eunuch, Achillas, the Egyptian commander of thearmy, and Theodotus, a "rhetoric teacher, " whose real business was tospin, not words, but court intrigues, had plotted together to placethe young King Ptolemæus in sole power. The conspiracy ran its course. There was a rising of the "Macedonian"[180] guard at the palace, agathering of citizens in the squares of the capital, culminating inbloody riots and proclamations declaring the king vested with the onlysupreme power. Hot on the heels of this announcement it was bruitedaround the city that Cleopatra had escaped safely to Palestine, where, in due time, she would doubtless be collecting an army at the courtsof Hyrcanus, the Jewish prince, and other Syrian potentates, to returnand retake the crown. 

 [180] Macedonian it is needless to say was a mere name. The Græco-Egyptian soldiery and citizen body of Alexandria probably had hardly a drop of Macedonian blood in their veins. 

Alexandria was accustomed to such dynastic disruptions. The riotingover, the people were ready to go back to the paper and linenfactories, and willing to call Ptolemæus the "Son of Ra, " or "King, "until his sister should defeat him in battle. Cornelia grieved thatCleopatra should thus be forced into exile. She had grown more andmore intimate with the queen. The first glamour of Cleopatra'spresence had worn away. Cornelia saw her as a woman very beautiful, very wilful, gifted with every talent, yet utterly lacking that moralstability which would have been the crown of a perfect human organism. The two women had grown more and more in friendship and intimacy; andwhen Cornelia studied in detail the dark, and often hideous, coils andtwistings of the history of the Hellenistic royal families, the morevividly she realized that Cleopatra was the heiress of generations oflegalized license, [181] of cultured sensuality, of veneered cruelty, and sheer blood-thirstiness. Therefore Cornelia had pitied, notblamed, the queen, and, now that misfortune had fallen upon her, wasdistressed for the plight of Cleopatra. 

 [181] As, for instance, the repeated wedlock of brothers and sisters among the Ptolemies. 

That Cornelia had been an intimate of the queen was perfectly wellknown in Alexandria. In fact, Cleomenes himself was of sufficientlyhigh rank to make any guest he might long entertain more or less of apublic personage. Cornelia was a familiar sight to the crowds, as shedrove daily on the streets and attended the theatre. Cleomenes beganto entertain suspicions that the new government was not quite pleasedto leave such a friend of Cleopatra's at liberty; and Agias took painsto discover that Pratinas was deep in the counsels of the virtualregent--Pothinus. But Cornelia scoffed at any suggestions that itmight be safer to leave the city and join Artemisia in the retreat upthe Nile. She had taken no part whatsoever in Egyptian politics, andshe was incapable of assisting to restore Cleopatra. As for thepossible influence of Pratinas in court, it seemed to her incrediblethat a man of his caliber could work her any injury, save by thedagger and poison cup. That an ignoble intriguer of his type couldinfluence the policy of state she refused to believe. 

Thus it came to pass that Cornelia had only herself to thank, when theblow, such as it was, fell. The eunuch prime minister knew how tocover his actions with a velvet glove. One evening a splendidlyuniformed division of Macedonian guard, led by one of the royal_somatophylakes_, [182] came with an empty chariot to the house ofCleomenes. The request they bore was signed with the royal seal, andwas politeness itself. It overflowed with semi-Oriental compliment andlaudation; but the purport was clear. On account of the great dangerin the city to foreigners from riots--ran the gist of the letter--andthe extremely disturbed condition of the times, the king wasconstrained to request Cornelia and Fabia to take up their residencein the palace, where they could receive proper protection and beprovided for in a princely manner, as became their rank. 

 [182] Commanders of the body-guard. 

Cornelia had enough wisdom to see that only by taking the letter forthe intentions written on its face could she submit to the impliedcommand without loss of dignity. She had much difficulty in persuadingFabia to yield; for the Vestal was for standing on her Romanprerogatives and giving way to nothing except sheer force. ButCleomenes added his word, that only harm would come from resistance;and the two Roman ladies accompanied the escort back to the palace. Itwas not pleasant to pass into the power of a creature like Pothinus, even though the smooth-faced eunuch received his unwilling guests withOriental salaams and profuse requests to be allowed to humour theirleast desires. But the restraint, if such it can be called, couldhardly take a less objectionable form. Monime and Berenice, as ladieswhose father was known as a merchant prince of colourless politics, were allowed free access to their friends at the palace. YoungPtolemæus, who was a dark-eyed and, at bottom, dark-hearted youth, completely under the thumb of Pothinus, exerted himself, after afashion, to be agreeable to his visitors; but he was too unfavourablea contrast to his gifted sister to win much grace in Cornelia's eyes. Agias, who was living with Cleomenes, nominally for the purpose oflearning the latter's business, preparatory to becoming a partner oncapital to come from his predatory cousin, as a matter of fact spent agreat part of his time at the palace also, dancing attendance upon hisRoman friends. Pratinas, indeed, was on hand, not really to distressthem, but to vex by the mere knowledge of his presence. Cornelia metthe Greek with a stony haughtiness that chilled all his professions ofdesire to serve her and to renew the acquaintance formed at Rome. Agias had discovered that Pratinas had advised Pothinus to keep hishands on the ladies, especially on Cornelia, because whichever side ofthe Roman factions won, there were those who would reward suitably anywho could deliver her over to them. From this Cornelia had to inferthat the defeat of the Cæsarians meant her own enthralment to heruncle and Lucius Ahenobarbus. Such a contingency she would not admitas possible. She was simply rendered far more anxious. Pratinas hadgiven up seeking Drusus's life, it was clear; his interest in thematter had ended the very instant the chance to levy blackmail onAhenobarbus had disappeared. Pratinas, in fact, Agias learned for her, was never weary ridiculing the Roman oligarchs, and professing hisdisgust with them; so Cornelia no longer had immediate cause to fearhim, though she hated him none the less. 

After all, Pratinas thrust himself little upon her. He had his ownlife to live, and it ran far apart from hers. Perhaps it was as wellfor Cornelia that she was forced to spend the winter and ensuingmonths in the ample purlieus of the palace. If living were but thegratification of sensuous indolence, if existence were but luxuriousdozing and half-waking, then the palace of the Ptolemies were indeedan Elysium, with its soft-footed, silent, swift, intelligent Orientalservants; rooms where the eye grew weary of rare sculpture or fresco;books drawn from the greatest library in the world--the Museum closeat hand; a broad view of the blue Mediterranean, ever changing andever the same, and of the swarming harbour and the bustling city; andgardens upon gardens shut off from the outside by lofty walls--somegreat enclosures containing besides forests of rare trees a vastmenagerie of wild beasts, whose roarings from their cages made onethink the groves a tropical jungle; some gardens, dainty, secludedspots laid out in Egyptian fashion, under the shade of a few fine oldsycamores, with a vineyard and a stone trellis-work in the midst, witharbours and little parks of exotic plants, a palm or two, and a tankwhere the half-tame water-fowl would plash among the lotus and papyrusplants. In such a nook as this Cornelia would sit and read all the daylong, and put lotus flowers in her hair, look down into the water, and, Narcissus-like, fall in love with her own face, and tell herselfthat Drusus would be delighted that she had not grown ugly since heparted with her. 

So passed the winter and the spring and early summer months; and, however hot and parched might be the city under the burning sun, therewas coolness and refreshment in the gardens of the palace. 

With it all, however, Cornelia began to wax restive. It is no lightthing to command one's self to remain quiet in Sybaritic ease. Moreand more she began to wish that this butterfly existence, this passivebasking in the sun of indolent luxury, would come to an end. Shecommenced again to wish that she were a man, with the tongue of anorator, the sword of a soldier, able to sway senates and to leadlegions. Pothinus finally discovered that he was having somedifficulty in keeping his cage-bird contented. The eunuch hadentertained great expectations of being able to win credit and favourwith the conquerors among the Romans by delivering over Cornelia safeand sound either to Lentulus Crus or Quintus Drusus. Now he began tofear that Pratinas had advised him ill; that Cornelia and Fabia wereincapable of intriguing in Cleopatra's favour, and by his "protectionat the palace" he was only earning the enmity of his noble guests. Butit was too late to retrace his steps, and he accordingly pliedCornelia with so many additional attentions, presents, and obsequiousflatteries, that she grew heartily disgusted and repined even moreover her present situation. 

Bad news came, which added to her discomfort. Cæsar had been drivenfrom his lines at Dyrrachium. He had lost a great many men. If thePompeian sources of information were to be believed, he was now reallya negligible military factor, and the war was practically over. Thetidings fell on Cornelia's soul like lead. She knew perfectly wellthat the defeat of the Cæsarians would mean the death of QuintusDrusus. Her uncle and the Domitii, father and son, would be allpowerful, and they never forgave an enmity. As for herself--but shedid not think much thereon; if Drusus was slain or executed, shereally had very little to live for, and there were many ways ofgetting out of the world. For the first time since the memorable nightof the raid on Baiæ, she went about with an aching heart. Fabia, too, suffered, but, older and wiser, comforted Cornelia not so much by whatshe might say, by way of extending hopes, as by the warm, silentcontact of her pure, noble nature. Monime and Berenice were grievedthat their friends were so sad, and used a thousand gentle arts tocomfort them. Cornelia bore up more bravely because of thesympathy--she did not have to endure her burden alone, as at Rome andBaiæ; but, nevertheless, for her the days crept slowly. 

And then out of the gloom came the dazzling brightness. A Rhodianmerchantman came speeding into the haven with news. "Is Cæsar taken?"cried the inquisitive crowd on the quay, as the vessel swung up to hermooring. "Is Pompeius not already here?" came back from the deck. Andin a twinkling it was all over the city: in the Serapeium, in theMuseum, under the colonnades, in the factories, in the palace. "Pompeius's army has been destroyed. The Magnus barely escaped withhis life. Lucius Domitius is slain. Cæsar is master of the world!"

Never did the notes of the great water-organ of the palace sound sosweet in any ears as these words in those of the Roman ladies. Theybore with complacency a piece of petty tyranny on the part ofPothinus, which at another time they would have found galling indeed. Report had it that Cleopatra had gathered an army in Syria, and theeunuch, with his royal puppet, was going forth to the frontier town ofPelusium, to head the forces that should resist the invasion. Corneliaand Fabia were informed that they would accompany the royal party onits progress to the frontier. Pothinus clearly was beginning to fearthe results of his "honourable entertainment, " and did not care tohave his guests out of his sight. It was vexatious to be thus at hismercy; but Cornelia was too joyous in soul, at that time, to bear theindignity heavily. They had to part with Monime and Berenice, butAgias went with them; and Cornelia sent off another letter to Italy, in renewed hope that the seas would be clear and it would find its waysafely to Drusus. 

Very luxurious was the progress of the royal party to Pelusium. Theking, his escort, and his unwilling guests travelled slowly by water, in magnificent river barges that were fitted with every requisite orornament that mind of man might ask or think. They crossed the LakeMareotis, glided along one of the minor outlets of the delta untilthey reached the Bolbitinic branch of the Nile, then, by canals andnatural water-courses, worked their way across to Bubastis, and thencestraight down the Pelusiac Nile to Pelusium. And thus it was Corneliacaught glimpses of that strange, un-Hellenized country that stretchedaway to the southward, tens and hundreds of miles, to Memphis and itspyramids, and Thebes and its temples--ancient, weird, wonderful; acivilization whereof everything was older than human thought mighttrace; a civilization that was almost like the stars, the sameyesterday, to-day, and forever. Almost would Cornelia have been gladif the prows of the barges had been turned up the river, and she beenenabled to behold with her own eyes the mighty piles of Cheops, Chephren, Mycerinus, Sesostris, Rhampsinitus, and a score of otherPharaohs whose deeds are recorded in stone imperishable. But thebarges glided again northward, and Cornelia only occasionally caughtsome glimpse of a massive temple, under whose huge propylons thepriests had chanted their litanies to Pakht or Ptah for two thousandyears, or passed some boat gliding with its mourners to thenecropolis, there to leave the mummy that was to await the judgment ofOsiris. And down the long valley swept the hot winds from the realm ofthe Pygmies, and from those strange lakes and mountains whence issuedthe boundless river, which was the life-giver and mother of all thefertile country of Egypt. 

Thus with a glimpse, all too short, of the "Black Land, "[183] as itsnative denizens called it, the royal party reached the half-Hellenizedtown of Pelusium, where the army was in waiting and a most splendidcamp was ready for Ptolemæus and his train. Cleopatra had not yetadvanced. The journey was over, and the novelty of the luxuriousquarters provided in the frontier fortress soon died away. Corneliacould only possess her soul in patience, and wonder how long it wouldbe before a letter could reach Italy, and the answer return. Where wasDrusus? Had aught befallen him in the great battle? Did he think ofher? And so, hour by hour, she repeated her questions--and waited. 

 [183] "Black" because of the black fertile mud deposited by the inundation. 

II

Cleopatra's forces had not reached proportions sufficient for her torisk an engagement, when a little squadron appeared before Pelusiumbearing no less a person than Pompeius himself, who sent ashore todemand, on the strength of former services to the late King PtolemæusAuletes, a safe asylum, and assistance to make fresh head against theCæsarians. There was a hurried convening of the council of Pothinus--aselect company of eunuchs, amateur generals, intriguing rhetoricians. The conference was long; access to its debates closely guarded. Theissue could not be evaded; on the decision depended thereestablishment of the Pompeians in a new and firm stronghold, ortheir abandonment to further wanderings over the ocean. All Pelusiumrealized what was at stake, and the excitement ran high. 

Cornelia beyond others was agitated by the report of the arrival ofthe Magnus. Rumour had it that Lucius Lentulus was close behind him. If the council of Pothinus voted to receive the fugitives, her ownposition would be unhappy indeed. For a time at least she would fallinto the power of her uncle and of Lucius Ahenobarbus. She was fullydetermined, if it was decided to harbour the Pompeians, to try toescape from the luxurious semi-captivity in which she was restrained. She could escape across the frontier to the camp of Cleopatra, whereshe knew a friendly welcome was in waiting. Agias, ever resourceful, ever anxious to anticipate the slightest wish on the part of the Romanladies, actually began to bethink himself of the ways and means for aflight. When finally it was announced in the camp and city thatPompeius was to be received as a guest of the king, Cornelia was onthe point of demanding of Agias immediate action toward escape. 

"In a few days, " were her words, "my uncle will be here; and I amundone, if not you also. There is not an hour to lose. "

But Agias reasoned otherwise. If Pothinus and Achillas had reallyconsented to receive the Magnus, flight was indeed necessary. Agias, however, had grounds, he thought, for hesitancy. He knew thatAchillas, the head of the army, bitterly opposed the idea of lettingPompeius land; he knew, what was almost as much to the point, thatPratinas did not care to renew certain acquaintanceships contracted atRome. Therefore the young Hellene calmed Cornelia's fears, and waitedas best he might. 

The council had convened early in the day; the herald went through thesquares of Pelusium announcing that Ptolemæus, "Son of Ra, " wouldreceive as his guest the Roman suppliant. The shore fronting theanchorage was covered with the files of the royal army in full array. Several Egyptian men-of-war had been drawn down into the water andtheir crews were hastening on board. Out in the haven rode the littlefleet of the Pompeians. Agias had heard the proclamation, and hurrieddown to the mole to bear the earliest definite information to hismistress. Presently, out of the throng of officers and court magnateson the quay, stepped Achillas in a splendid panoply of gilded armour, with a purple chiton flowing down from beneath. Beside him, with thefirm swinging step of the Roman legionary, strode two other officersin magnificent armour, whom Agias at once recognized as LuciusSeptimius, a Roman tribune now in Egyptian service, and a certainSalvius, who had once been a centurion of the Republic. The threeadvanced on to the quay and stood for a moment at a loss. Agias, whowas quite near, could hear their conversation. 

"The yacht is not ready for us. "

"We cannot delay a moment. "

There was a large open boat moored to the quay, a fisher man's craft. In a moment a few subalterns had taken possession of it and there wasa call for rowers. Agias, who, like all his race, never declined achance "to see or hear some new thing, " took his seat on one of thebenches, and soon the craft shot away from the mole with the threeofficers in its stern. 

It was a short pull to the Pompeian ships; Agias, as he glanced overhis shoulder thought he could see a motion on board the vessels as ifto sheer away from the boat; but in a moment the little craft wasalongside, under the lee of the flagship. 

"Where is Pompeius Magnus?" cried Achillas, rising from his seat; "weare sent to carry him to the king. "

A martial, commanding figure was seen peering over the side, --a figurethat every inhabitant of Rome knew right well. 

"I am he; but why do you come thus meanly with only a fisher's boat?Is this honourable, is this worthy of a great king's guest?"

"Assuredly, kyrios, " began Achillas, "we are forced to come in thissmall craft, because the water is too shallow for larger ships toapproach the shore. "

Agias knew that this was a lie; he was very certain that he was aboutto be witness to a deed of the darkest treachery. A vague feeling ofshrinking and horror froze his limbs, and made his tongue swell in hismouth. Yet he was perfectly powerless to warn; a sign or a word wouldhave meant his instant death. 

"_Salve_, Imperator!" shouted Septimius in Latin, rising in turn. "Don't you remember the campaign I had with you against the pirates?"

The fugitive general's care-worn face lighted up at the recognition ofan old officer. 

"_Eu!_" he answered, "I shall not want for good friends, I see! Howglad I shall be to grasp your hands! But is not this a very smallboat? I see men going on board the galleys by the shore. "

"You shall be satisfied in a moment, kyrios, " repeated Achillas, withsuave assurance, "that the quicksands by the mole are very dangerousto large vessels. Will you do us the honour to come aboard?"

Agias felt as though he must howl, scream, spring into the sea--doanything to break the horrible suspense that oppressed him. 

A woman was taking leave of Pompeius on the deck, a tall, stately, patrician lady, with a sweet, trouble-worn face; Agias knew that shewas Cornelia Scipionis. She was adjuring her husband not to go ashore, and he was replying that it was impossible to refuse; that if theEgyptians meant evil, they could easily master all the fugitives withtheir armament. Several of the Magnus's servants came down into theboat--couple of trusted centurions, a valued freedman called Philip, aslave named Scythes. Finally Pompeius tore himself from his wife'sarms. 

"Do not grieve, all will be well!" were his words, while the boat'screw put out their hands to receive him; and he added, "We must makethe best choice of evils. I am no longer my own master. RememberSophocles's iambics, "He that once enters at a tyrant's door Becomes a slave, though he were free before. '"

The general seated himself on the stern seat between the Egyptianofficers. Agias bent to his oar in sheer relief at finding some way inwhich to vent his feelings; and tugged at the heavy paddle until itstough blade bent almost to cracking. The silence on the part of theofficers was ominous. Not a word, not a hint of recognition, came fromAchillas or his Italian associates, from the instant that Pompeius setfoot in the boat. The stillness became awkward. The Magnus, flushedand embarrassed, turned to Septimius. "I was not mistaken inunderstanding that you were my fellow-soldier in years past?" Hisanswer was a surly nod. Pompeius, however, reined his rising feelings, and took up and began to re-read some tablets on which he had writtenan address in Greek, to be delivered before the king. Agias rowed onwith the energy of helpless desperation. They were very close to thequay. A company of the royal body-guard in gala armour stood as ifawaiting the distinguished visitor. For a moment the young Hellenebelieved that Achillas was sincere in his errand. 

The boat drew up to the landing; one or two of the rowers sprang tothe dock and made her fast. Agias was unshipping his oar. His thoughtwas that he must now contrive the escape of Cornelia. Pompeius halfrose from his seat; the boat was pitching in the choppy harbour swell;the general steadied himself by grasping the hands of Philip thefreedman. Suddenly, like the swoop of a hawk on its prey, Agias sawthe right hand of Septimius tear his short sword from its sheath. Ascream broke from the Hellene's lips; before the Magnus could turn hishead, the blow was struck. Pompeius received the blade full in theback, and staggered, while Salvius and Achillas likewise drew andthrust at him. Agias gazed on, paralyzed with horror. The generalseized his red paludamentum, threw it over his face, groaned once, andfell. Even as he did so Septimius struck him across the neck, decapitating the corpse. The brutal boatmen tore the blood-soakedclothes off of the body, and flung it overboard, to drift ashore withthe current. And so it ended with Pompeius Magnus, Imperator, theFortunate, the favourite general of Sulla, the chieftain of "godlikeand incredible virtue, " the conquerer of the kingdoms of the East, thrice consul, thrice triumphator, joint ruler with Cæsar of thecivilized world!

Agias hastened back to Cornelia to tell her that the danger was past, that there was no need of a flight to Cleopatra; but he was sick atheart when he thought of the treachery in which he had shared, albeitso unwillingly. 

Chapter XXIII

Bitterness and Joy

I

Cornelia knew not whether to be merry or to weep when the report ofthe fate of Pompeius reached her. That she would be delivered up toher uncle was no longer to be dreaded; but into the hands of whatmanner of men had she herself fallen? Her own life and that of Fabia, she realized, would be snuffed out in a twinkling, by Pothinus and hisconfederates, the instant they saw in such a deed the least advantage. The splendid life of the court at the garrison city went on; there wasan unending round of fêtes, contests in the gymnasium and stadium;chariot races; contests of poets and actors for prizes in dramaticart. To the outward eye nothing could be more decorous and magnificentthan the pleasures of the Egyptian king. And so some days passed whileCornelia crushed her fears, and waited for the news that she was surewould come--that Cæsar was pressing on the tracks of his rival. 

Late one afternoon, as the king and his suite were just returned froma visit by boat up the river to inspect a temple under restoration atSethroë, Agias sought the private apartment of his patroness. His facewas extremely grave, and Cornelia at once realized that he broughtserious news. 

"Domina, " he said, speaking in Latin to evade the curiosity of themaids present, "when you are at leisure, I have a curious story totell you. "

Cornelia presently found pretexts to get rid of all her women. Agiasreconnoitred, made certain that there was no eavesdropper, and beganafresh. 

"What I have to say is so different from that which we feared a fewdays since, that I scarce know how you will receive it. I have justlearned that your uncle Lucius Lentulus and Lucius Ahenobarbus made alanding on the coast the day after Pompeius was murdered; they havebeen quietly arrested and the matter hushed up. I believe thatPothinus intends to execute them without your knowledge. Only by afriendship with some of the officers of the guard did I get at this. "

Cornelia's lips twitched; her hands pressed on her cheeks till thepale skin flushed red. In her heart a hundred conflicting emotionsheld sway. She said nothing for a long time, and then it was only toask where the prisoners were confined. 

"They are in the dungeon of the fortress, " said Agias. "That is allthat I can discover. "

"I must see them at once, " declared the lady. 

"I do not know how Pothinus will take this, " replied the youngfreedman; "the discovery of his secret will be rightly attributed tome, and your ladyship would not care to imperil my life unlesssomething very great is to be gained thereby. "

"I shall miss you very much, " said Cornelia, soberly. "But thoughLucius Lentulus has done me grievous ill, he is my uncle. You mustleave Pelusium this very night, and keep out of danger untilPothinus's vexation can abate. In the morning I shall demand to seethe prisoners and to learn the eunuch's intentions touching them. "

Agias accordingly fared away, much to Cornelia's regret; but not quiteso much to his own, because his enforced journeying would take him tothe Nile villa, where was the pretty Artemisia. Early on the followingday Cornelia boldly went to Pothinus, and, without any explanations, demanded to see her uncle. The regent, who had tried to keep thematter profoundly secret, first was irate, then equivocated, and triedto deny that he had any Roman prisoners; then, driven to bay byCornelia's persistency and quiet inflexibility before his denials andprotests, gave her permission to be taken to the prison and see thecaptives. 

To pass from the palace of Pelusium to the fortress-prison was topass, by a few steps, from the Oriental life, in all its sensuoussplendour, to Orientalism in its most degraded savagery. The prisonwas a half-underground kennel of stone and brick, on which theparching sun beat pitilessly, and made the galleries and cells like somany furnaces in heat. The fetid odour of human beings confined in themost limited space in which life can be maintained; the rattle offetters; the grating of ponderous doors on slow-turning pivots; thecoarse oaths and brutish aspect of both jailers and prisoners; theindescribable squalor, filth, misery, --these may not be enlarged upon. The attendants led Cornelia to the cell, hardly better than the rest, wherein Lentulus and Ahenobarbus were confined. 

But another had been before Cornelia to visit the unfortunates. As thelady drew toward the open door she saw the graceful, easy form ofPratinas on the threshold, one hand carelessly thrust in the folds ofhis himation, the other gesturing animatedly, while he leaned againstthe stone casing. 

Lucius Lentulus, his purple-lined tunic dirty and torn, his hairdisordered, his face knitted into a bitter frown, crouched on a stoolin the little low-ceiled room, confronting the Hellene. Cowering on amass of filthy straw, his head bowed, his body quaking in a paroxysmof fear, was another whose name Cornelia knew full well. 

Pratinas was evidently just concluding a series of remarks. 

"And so, my friends, amici, as we say at Rome, " he was jauntilyvapouring, "I regret indeed that the atomic theory, --which my goodAhenobarbus, I am sure, holds in common with myself, --can leave us nohope of meeting in a future world, where I can expect to win any moreof his good sesterces with loaded dice. But let him console himself!He will shortly cease from any pangs of consciousness that our goodfriend Quintus Drusus will, in all probability, enjoy the fortune thathe has inherited from his father, and marry the lady for whose handthe very noble Ahenobarbus for some time disputed. Therefore let mewish you both a safe voyage to the kingdom of Hades; and if you needmoney for the ferryman, accept now, as always, the use of my poorcredit. "

"May all the infernal gods requite you!" broke forth Lentulus, halfrising, and uplifting his fettered hands to call down a solemn curse. 

"It has been often observed by philosophers, " said Pratinas, with asmile, "that even among the most sceptical, in times of greatextremity, there exists a certain belief in the existence of gods. Your excellency sees how the observation is confirmed. "

"The gods blast you!" howled Lentulus, in impotent fury. Beforefurther words could pass, Cornelia put Pratinas aside, and entered thecell. 

"Your presence, sir, " she said haughtily, to the Hellene, "is neededno longer. " And she pointed down the gallery. 

Pratinas flushed, hesitated as if for once at a loss, and nimblyvanished. Lentulus sat in speechless astonishment "Uncle, " continuedCornelia, "what may I do for you? I did not know till last eveningthat you were here. "

But ere the other could reply the figure in the corner had sprung up, and flung itself at the lady's feet. 

"Save me! save me! By all that you hold dear, save my life! I haveloved you. I thought once that you loved me. Plead for me! Pray forme! Anything that I may but live!"

"_Vah_, wretch!" cried the consular; and he spurned Ahenobarbus withhis foot. "It is indeed well that you have not married into family ofmine! If you can do naught else, you can at least die with dignity asbecomes a Roman patrician--and not beg intercession from this womanwho has cut herself off from all her kin by disobedience. "

"Uncle, " cried Cornelia in distress, "must we be foes to the end? Mustour last words be of bitterness?"

"Girl, " thundered the unbending Lentulus, "when a Roman maidendisobeys, there is no expiation. You are no niece of mine. I care nothow you came here. I accept nothing at your hands. I will not hearyour story. If I must die, it is to die cursing your name. Go! I haveno more words for you!"

But Ahenobarbus caught the skirt of Cornelia's robe, and pleaded andmoaned. "Let them imprison him in the lowest dungeons, load him withthe heaviest fetters; place upon him the most toilsome labour--onlylet him still see the light and breathe the air!"

"Uncle, " said Cornelia, "I will plead for you despite yourwrath---though little may my effort avail. You are my father'sbrother, and neither act of yours nor of mine can make you otherwise. But as for you, Lucius Ahenobarbus, "--and her words came hot andthick, as she hissed out her contempt, --"though I beg for your life, know this, that if I despised you less I would not so do. I despiseyou too much to hate; and if I ask to have you live, it is because Iknow the pains of a base and ignoble life are a myriad fold more thanthose of a swift and honourable death. Were I your judge--I would doomyou; doom you _to live_ and know the sting of your ignominy!"

She left them; and hatred and pity, triumph and anguish, mingledwithin her. She went to the young King Ptolemæus and besought him tospare the prisoners; the lad professed his inability to take a stepwithout the initiative of Pothinus. She went to Pothinus; the eunuchlistened to her courteously, then as courteously told her that gravereasons of state made it impossible to comply with the request--much, as he blandly added, it would delight him personally to gratify her. Cornelia could do no more. Pratinas she would not appeal to, though hehad great influence with Pothinus. She went back to her rooms to spendthe day with Fabia, very heavy of heart. The world, as a whole, shebeheld as a thing very evil; treachery, guile, wrath, hatred, wereeverywhere. The sight of Ahenobarbus had filled her with loathsomememories of past days. The sunlight fell in bright warm panels overthe rich rugs on the floor of her room. The sea-breeze sweeping infrom the north blew fresh and sweet; out against the azure light, intowhich she could gaze, a swarm of swallows was in silhouette--blackdots crawling along across the dome of light. Out in one of the publicsquares of the city great crowds of people were gathering. Corneliaknew the reason of the concourse--the heads of two noble Romans, justdecapitated, were being exposed to the gibes and howls of the coarseGreek and Egyptian mob. And Cornelia wished that she were herself aswallow, and might fly up into the face of the sun, until the earthbeneath her had vanished. 

But while she leaned from the parapet by the window of the room, footsteps sounded on the mosaic pavement without; the drapery in thedoorway was flung aside; Agias entered, and after him--another. 

II

Drusus ran to Cornelia and caught her in his arms; and she--neitherfainted nor turned pale, but gave a little laugh, and cried softly:--

"I always knew you were coming!"

What more followed Agias did not know; his little affair withArtemisia had taught him that his Hellenic inquisitiveness sometimeswould do more harm than good. 

Very different from the good-humoured, careless, half-boyish studentyouth who had driven down the Præneste road two years before, was thesoldierly figure that Cornelia pressed to her heart. The campaigninglife had left its mark upon Drusus. Half of a little finger the strokeof a Spanish sword had cleft away at Ilerda; across his forehead wasthe broad scar left by the fight at Pharsalus, from a blow that he hadnever felt in the heat of the battle. During the forced marchings andvoyages no razor had touched his cheeks, and he was thickly bearded. But what cared Cornelia? Had not her ideal, her idol, gone forth intothe great world and stood its storm and stress, and fought in itsbattles, and won due glory? Was he not alive, and safe, and in healthof mind and body after ten thousand had fallen around him? Were notthe clouds sped away, the lightnings ceased? And she? She was happy. 

So Drusus told her of all that had befallen him since the day heescaped out of Lucius Ahenobarbus's hands at Baiæ. And Cornelia toldof her imprisonment at the villa, and how Demetrius had saved her, andhow it came to pass that she was here at the Egyptian court. In turnDrusus related how Cæsar had pursued Pompeius into Asia, and then, hearing that the Magnus had fled to Egypt, placed two legions onshipboard and sailed straight for Alexandria. 

"And when he landed, " continued the young officer, "the magistrates ofthe city came to Cæsar, and gave him first Pompeius's seal-ring of alion holding a sword in his paw, and then another black-faced andblack-hearted Egyptian, without noticing the distress the Imperatorwas in, came up and uncovered something he had wrapped in a mantle. Iwas beside the general when the bundle was unwrapped. I am sickenedwhen I speak of it. It was the head of Pompeius Magnus. The foolsthought to give Cæsar a great delight. "

"And what did the Imperator do or say?" asked Cornelia. 

"He shrank back from the horror as though the Egyptian had been amurderer, as indeed all of his race are. Cæsar said nothing. Yet allsaw how great was his grief and anger. Soon or late he will requitethe men who slew thus foully the husband of his daughter Julia. "

"You must take me away from them, " said Cornelia, shuddering; "I amafraid every hour. "

"And I, till you are safe among our troops at Alexandria, " repliedDrusus. "I doubt if they would have let me see you, but for Agias. Hemet us on the road from Alexandria and told me about you. I hadreceived a special despatch from Cæsar to bear with all haste to theking. So across the Delta I started, hardly waiting for the troops todisembark, for there was need for speed. Agias I took back with me, and my first demand when I came here was to see the king and delivermy letter, which was easily done an hour ago; and my next to see you. Whereat that nasty sheep Pothinus declared that you had been sent somedays before up the river on a trip to the Memphis palace to see thepyramids. But Agias was close at hand, and I gave the eunuch the liewithout difficulty. The rascal blandly said, 'that he had not seen youof late; had only spoken by hearsay about you, and he might have beenmisinformed;' and so--What do I look like?"

"You look like Quintus Livius Drusus, the Roman soldier, " saidCornelia, "and I would not have you otherwise than what you are. "

"_Eho!_" replied Drusus, passing his hand over her hair. "Do you wantme to tell you something?"

"What is it?" said Cornelia, pressing closer. 

"I can never write a cosmology. I shall never be able to evolve a newsystem of ethics. I cannot improve on Plato's ideal state. I know I ama very ignorant man, with only a few ideas worth uttering, with a handthat is very heavy, with a mind that works to little purpose save whenit deals with politics and war. In short"--and Drusus's voice grewreally pathetic--"all my learning carries me no farther than did thewisdom of Socrates, 'I know that I know nothing;' and I have no timeto spend in advancing beyond that stage. "

"But Socrates, " said Cornelia, laughing, "was the wisest man inGreece, and for that very reason. "

"Well, " said Drusus, ignoring the compliment, as a certain type of menwill when the mood is on them, "what do you wish me to make ofmyself?"

"I wish you to make nothing different, " was her reply, "for you areprecisely what I have always wanted you to be. When you have read asmuch as I have, " this with an air of utter weariness, "you willrealize the futility of philosophic study. "

"_Eho!_" remarked Drusus again. "So you would have me feel that I amturning my back on nothing very great, after all?"

"And so I mean. "

"Seriously?"

"I am serious, Quintus. " And indeed Cornelia was. "I can readAristotle and Plato, and Zeno and Cleanthes, and Pyrrho, and a scoreof others. I can spin out of my own brain a hundred theories of theuniverse as good as theirs, but my heart will not be the happier, ifthings outside make me sad. I am sick of the learning that is nolearning, that answers our questions by other questions that are moreriddling. "

"Ah, scoffer at the wise, " laughed Drusus, "what do you wish, then?"He spoke in Greek. 

"Speak in Latin, in Latin, Quintus, " was her retort. "I am weary ofthis fine, sweet language that tinkles so delicately, every word ofwhich hides a hundred meanings, every sentence attuned like the notesfor a harp. Let us have our own language, blunt and to the point; thelanguage, not of men who wonder what they ought to do, but who _do_. We are Romans, not Greeks. We have to rule the world, not growl as tohow Jupiter made it. When you came back from Athens I said, 'I loveQuintus Drusus, but I would love him more if he were less a Hellene. 'And, now I see you wholly Roman, I love you wholly. And for myself, Iwish neither to be a Sappho, nor an Aspasia, nor a Semiramis, butCornelia the Roman matron, who obeys her husband, Quintus Drusus, whocares for his house, and whom, in turn, her household fears andobeys. "

"_O tempora! O mores!_" cried the young soldier, in delight. "When hadever a woman such ambition in these degenerate days? _Eu!_ Then I willburn my books, if you can get no profit out of them. "

"I do not think books are bad, " said Cornelia, still soberly, "but Iknow that they can never make me happy. "

"What can?" demanded her tormenter. 

"_You!_"

 * * * * *

So the hours of the afternoon ran on, and the lovers gave them littleheed. But they were not too selfish to refuse to Fabia's sharing intheir joy; and Drusus knew that he was dear no less, thoughdifferently, in the eyes of his aunt than of his betrothed. And therewere duties to perform that not even the long-deferred delights of theafternoon could postpone. Chief of these were the arrangements for theimmediate departure of the Roman ladies for Alexandria. Agias, who wascalled into the council, was invaluable in information and suggestion. He said that Pothinus had acted at Pratinas's advice, when he tookFabia and Cornelia to the palace. The eunuch had expected to use themhalf as hostages, half as captives to be put to ransom. If Cæsar haddelayed a few days, Pothinus would not have lied when he made excusethat the ladies had been sent up the river. But now Agias believedthat the regent was afraid, having overreached himself, and it wasbest to make a prompt demand for conveyance to Alexandria. This, indeed, proved advantageous policy. The eunuch made difficulties andsuggested obstacles, but Drusus made his native Italian haughtinessstand him in good stead. It would largely depend, he saidinsinuatingly, on the way in which his demand was complied with, whatsort of a report he made to Cæsar touching the execution of LuciusLentulus and Ahenobarbus. During his interview with Pothinus, theRoman came face to face with Pratinas. No words were exchanged, butDrusus noticed that the elegant Hellene flushed, and then turned pale, when he fastened upon him a gaze steady and half menacing. Pothinusended by yielding everything--the use of the royal chariots andhorses, the use of the Nile boats needed for swift transit across theDelta, and orders on the local garrisons and governors to provideentertainment and assistance. 

As a result Cornelia speedily found herself again journeying, not thistime in a slow barge following the main branches of the Nile, but bymore rapid, if less luxurious, conveyance, now by land, now by water, hurrying westward. They passed through Sethroë and Tanis, Mendes andSebennytus, Xaïs and Saïs, where were the tomb of Osiris and the greatEgyptian university in this the capital of the mighty Pharaohs who hadwrested the nation from the clutches of Assyria. Then they fared upthe Nile to the old Milesian trading factory of Naucratis, --nowdropping into decline beside the thriving Alexandria, --and then byboat they pressed on to the capital itself. Never more delightfuljourney for Cornelia or for Drusus; they saw the strange land throughone another's eyes; they expressed their own thoughts through oneanother's lips; they were happy together, as if children at play; andFabia was their never exacting, ever beneficent, guardian goddess. 

Drusus and Cornelia were neither of them the same young persons whohad met in the gardens of the villa of the Lentuli two short yearsbefore. They saw life with a soberer gaze; they had both the wisdomthat experience teaches. Yet for the time not a cloud was driftingacross their sky. Their passions and hates had been too fierce, toopagan, to feel the death of even Cornelia's uncle very keenly. LuciusAhenobarbus was dead--they had no more thought for him than for a deadviper. Lucius Domitius was dead. Gabinius and Dumnorix were dead. Pompeius, the tool of guiltier men than himself, was dead. Pratinasalone of all those who had crossed their path remained; but the wilyGreek was a mere creature of self-interest--what had he to gain bypressing his animosity, if he had any, against them? Cæsar wastriumphant. His enemies were barely lifting their heads in Africa. Doubtless there was stern work awaiting the Imperator there, but whatof it? Was he not invincible? Was he not about to commence a new orderof things in the world, to tear down the old and decaying, to raise upa steadfast fabric? Therefore the little party took its pleasure, andenjoyed every ancient temple of the Amenhoteps, Thothmeses, andRamesides that they hurriedly visited; won the favour of the wrinkledold priests by their plentiful votives of bright philippi; heard ahundred time-honoured tales that they knew not whether to believe orlaugh at; speculated among themselves as to the sources of the Nile, the cause of the vocal Memnon, and fifty more darkened wonders, andresolved to solve every mystery during a second and more prolongedvisit. 

So they came to Alexandria, but on the way called at the Nile villawhere was Artemisia, and, to the great satisfaction of that young ladyand of Agias, carried her along with them to the house of Cleomenes, where that affable host and Berenice and Monime received them withopen arms. 

Their pleasure at this reunion, however, began to abate when theyrealized the disturbed state of the city. 

"I can't say I like the situation, " admitted Cleomenes, as soon as hehad been introduced to Drusus, and the first greetings were over; "youknow when Cæsar landed he took his consular insignia with him, and themob made this mean that he was intending to overthrow the governmentand make Egypt a Roman province. If you had not left for Pelusium sohastily, you would have been present at a very serious riot, that waswith great difficulty put down. The soldiers of the royal garrison arein an ugly mood, and so are the people. I suspect the king, or ratherPothinus, is doing nothing to quiet them. There have been slight riotsfor several days past, and a good many Roman soldiers who havestraggled away from the palace into the lower quarters of the cityhave been murdered. "

"I am glad, " replied Drusus, "that I can leave Cornelia and my auntunder your protection, for my duty may keep me continuously with theImperator. "

The young officer at once hastened to the palace and reported forservice. Cæsar questioned him as to the situation at Pelusium, andDrusus described the unpromising attitude of Pothinus, and alsomentioned how he had found Cornelia and his aunt. 

The general, engrossed as he was with his business of state andthreatening war, put all his duties aside and at once went to thehouse of Cleomenes. It was the first time Cornelia had ever met theman whose career had exerted such an influence upon her own life. Shehad at first known of him only through the filthy, slanderous versesof such oligarchs as Catullus and Calvus; then through her lover shehad come to look upon Cæsar as an incarnation as it were ofomniscience, omnipotence, and benevolence--the man for whom everythingwas worth sacrificing, from whom every noble thing was to be expected. 

She met the conquerer of Ariovistus, Vercingetorix, and Pompeius likethe frank-hearted, patrician maiden that she was, without shyness, without servility. 

"My father died in your army, " she said on meeting; "my affiancedhusband has taught me to admire you, as he himself does. Let us befriends!"

And Cæsar bowed as became the polished gentleman, who had been thecentre of the most brilliant salons of Rome, and took the hand sheoffered, and replied:--

"Ah! Lady Cornelia, we have been friends long, though never we metbefore! But I am doubly the friend of whosoever is the friend ofQuintus Livius Drusus. "

Whereupon Cornelia was more completely the vassal of the Imperatorthan ever, and words flew fast between them. In short, just as in thecase with Cleopatra, she opened her heart before she knew that she hadsaid anything, and told of all her life, with its shadows andbrightness; and Cæsar listened and sympathized as might a father; andDrusus perfectly realized, if Cornelia could not--how many-sided wasthe man who could thus turn from weighing the fate of empires toentering unfeignedly into a sharing of the hopes and fears of a veryyoung, and still quite unsophisticated, woman. 

When the Imperator departed Drusus accompanied him to the palace. Neither of the two, general nor subaltern, spoke for a long while; atlast Cæsar remarked:--

"Do you know what is uppermost in my mind, after meeting women likeFabia or Cornelia?"

Drusus shook his head. 

"I believe that there are gods, who bring such creatures into theworld. They are not chance accretions of atoms. " And then Cæsar added, half dreamily: "You ought to be a very happy man. I was once--it wasmany years ago. Her name was Cornelia also. "

 * * * * *

Serious and more serious, grew the situation at Alexandria. KingPtolemæus and Pothinus came to the city from Pelusium. Cæsar hadannounced that he intended to examine the title of the young monarchto the undivided crown, and make him show cause why he had expelledCleopatra. This the will of Ptolemæus Auletes had enjoined the Romangovernment to do; for in it he had commissioned his allies to see thathis oldest children shared the inheritance equally. 

But Pothinus came to Alexandria, and trouble came with him. He threwevery possible obstacle in Cæsar's way when the latter tried tocollect a heavy loan due the Romans by the late king. The etesianwinds made it impossible to bring up reënforcements, and Cæsar's forcewas very small. Pothinus grew more insolent each day. For the firsttime, Drusus observed that his general was nervous, and suspiciouslest he be assassinated. Finally the Imperator determined to force acrisis. To leave Egypt without humbling Pothinus meant a greatlowering of prestige. He sent off a private message to Palestine thatCleopatra should come to Alexandria. 

Cleopatra came, not in royal procession, for she knew too well thefinesse of the regent's underlings; but entered the harbour indisguise in a small boat; and Apollodorus, her Sicilian confidant, carried her into Cæsar's presence wrapped in a bale of bedding whichhe had slung across his back. 

The queen's suit was won. Cleopatra and the Imperator met, and the twostrong personalities recognized each other's affinity instantly. Hercoming was as a thunder-clap to Pothinus and his puppet Ptolemæus. They could only cringe and acquiesce when Cæsar ordered them to bereconciled with the queen, and seal her restoration by a splendidcourt banquet. 

The palace servants made ready for the feast. The rich and noble ofAlexandria were invited. The stores of gold and silver vesselstreasured in the vaults of the Lagidæ were brought forth. The archesand columns of the palace were festooned with flowers. The best pipersand harpers of the great city were summoned to delight with theirmusic. Precious wine of Tanis was ready to flow like water. 

Drusus saw the preparations with a glad heart. Cornelia would bepresent in all her radiancy; and who there would be more radiant thanshe?

Chapter XXIV

Battling for Life

And then it was, --with the chariots bearing the guests almost drivingin at the gates of the palace, --that Cerrinius, Cæsar's barber, camebefore his master with an alarming tale. The worthy man declared thathe had lighted on nothing less than a plot to murder the Romans, oneand all, by admitting Achillas's soldiery to the palace enclosure, while all the banqueters were helpless with drugged wine. Pratinas, who had been supposed to be at Pelusium, Cerrinius had caught inretired conference with Pothinus, planning the arrangement of thefeast. Achillas's mercenary army was advancing by stealthy marches toenter the city in the course of the evening. The mob had been arousedby agitators, until it was in a mood to rise en masse against theRomans, and join in destroying them. Such, in short, was the barber'sstory. 

There was no time to delay. Cæsar was a stranger in a strange andprobably hostile land, and to fail to take warning were suicide. Hesent for Pothinus, and demanded the whereabouts of Achillas's army. The regent stammered that it was at Pelusium. Cæsar followed up thecharge by inquiring about Pratinas. Pothinus swore that he was atPelusium also. But Cæsar cut his network of lies short, by commandingthat a malefactor should be forced to swallow a beaker of the wineprepared for the banquet. In a few moments the man was in a helplessstupor. 

The case was proved and Cæsar became all action. A squad oflegionaries haled Pothinus away to an execution not long delayed. Other legionaries disarmed and replaced the detachment of the royalguard that controlled the palace gates and walls. And barely had thesesteps been taken, when a courier thundered into the palace, hardlyescaped through the raging mob that was gaining control of the city. Achillas, he reported, had wantonly murdered Dioscorides and Serapion, whom Cæsar had sent as envoys to Pelusium, and was marching on thecity with his whole army of Italian renegades, Syrian banditti, convicts, and runaway slaves, twenty thousand strong. 

There was nothing to do but to prepare to weather the storm in thepalace enclosure, which, with its high walls, was practically afortress in itself. There were only four thousand Romans, and yetthere was a long circuit of defences to man. But Drusus never saw hisgeneral putting forth greater energy. That night, instead of feasting, the soldiers laboured, piling up the ramparts by the light of torches. The city was surging and thundering without the palace gates. Cæsarhad placed the king under guard, but Arsinoë--his younger sister--hadslipped out of the palace to join herself to the advancing host ofAchillas, and speedily that general would be at hand. Cæsar as usualwas everywhere, with new schemes for the defences, new enthusiasm forhis officers, new inspiration for his men. No one slept nor cared tosleep inside the palace walls. They toiled for dear life, for withmorning, at most, Achillas would be upon them; and by morning, ifPothinus's plans had not failed, they would have been drugged andhelpless to a man, none able to draw sword from scabbard. It was a newexperience to one and all, for these Romans to stand on the defensive. For once Cæsar had made a false step--he ought to have taken on hisvoyage more men. He stood with his handful, with the sea on one sideof him and a great city and a nation in arms against him on the other. The struggle was not to be for empire, but for life. But the Romanswere too busy that night to realize anything save the need of untiringexertion. If they had counted the odds against them, four thousandagainst a nation, they might well have despaired, though theirchieftain were Cæsar. 

Two years earlier Drusus, as he hurried to and fro transmitting ordersfor his general, might have been fain to draw aside and muse on thestrangeness of the night scene. The sky was clear, as almost always ina land where a thunder-storm is often as rare as an eclipse; the starstwinkled out of heavens of soft blackness; the crescent of a new moonhung like a silvered bow out over the harbour, and made a thin pathwayof lustre across the moving, shimmering waters. Dimly the sky-line wasvisible; by the Pharos and its mole loomed the vague tracery of masts. On the west and the south lay the white and dark masses of the city, now and then brought into clearer relief as the moonbeams swept acrosssome stately pile, and touched on its Corinthian columns and noblywrought pediments. But Drusus was a soldier; and the best of poetsdoubtless work poorly when their lives are hanging in the balance. Over the flower-strewn walks, under the festooned colonnades, ran thebusy legionaries, bestirring themselves as never before; whileDiomedes, and Hector, and Patroclus, and fifty other heroic worthieswaged perpetual battle on their marble heights above the soldiers'heads. On occasion Drusus was called to one of the upper terraces andpinnacles of the palace buildings, and then he could catch a glimpseof the whole sweep of the mighty city. Over to the southeast, wherewas the Jewish quarter, the sky was beginning to redden. The mob hadbegun to vent its passions on the innocent Israelites, and theincendiary was at his work. A deep, low, growling hum, as of tenthousand angry voices, drifted upon the night air. The beast calledthe Alexandrian rabble was loose, and it was a terrible animal. 

It was midnight. Drusus had toiled since noon. He had hardly tastedfood or drink since morning, but there were three feet more of brick, stone, and rubbish to be added still to this and that rampart beforeit would be secure, and a whole wing of the overgrown palace must bepulled down to furnish the material. He had climbed out upon the roofto aid in tearing up the tiles and to encourage the men by hisexample, when some one plucked him from behind on the cloak--it wasCæsar. 

"You are not needed here, " said the general, in a voice that seemed abit strained to keep calm. "Read this--take all the men you want. "

And the Imperator himself held up the torch, while Drusus took thetablet thrust into his hands and read the hastily scribbled lines:--

"Cleomenes to Drusus. The ladies are in danger. I will resist the mobas long as I can. Send help. "

Drusus threw down the tablet; forgot to so much as salute hiscommander. He had laid off his armour during the work on the ramparts;he ran for it, put it on with feverish haste. A moment more and he wasrunning among the soldiers, calling this and that legionary by name. The troops all knew him, and would have followed him to the death. When he asked for thirty volunteers for dangerous service, nonedemanded of him the occasion; he simply selected his men as fast as hemight. He secured four chariots and placed in them the fastest horsesin the royal stables and trusted men for drivers. He mounted the restof his thirty on other steeds, and the preparations were over. Thegate was thrown open; Decimus Mamercus, who was his subaltern, led outthe little company. Drusus rode out last, in one of the chariots. Thetroops on the walls cheered them as they departed. 

In the immediate neighbourhood of the palace there prevailed anominous silence. Earlier in the night a few cohorts had charged outand scattered the street rabble; and the mob had kept at a distance. There was no light save that of the moon and the distant glow of theburning buildings. Drusus felt his breath coming thick and fast, thedrops of sweat were hanging on his forehead, something within wasdriving his heart into his throat. "If--" he never went further;unless he brought Cornelia and Fabia back to the palace unscathed, heknew the Alexandrian rabble would howl over his unconscious body. 

"Ride!" he commanded, as if the rush of the chariots and horses woulddrown the fears that nearly drove him frantic. "Ride!"

The drivers lashed the teams, the horsemen pricked with the spur. Drusus caught the reins from his chariot companion, and swung the lashhimself over the four steeds. Faster and faster they flew down thesplendidly paved and built highways. Temples and majestic publicbuildings rose in sombre grandeur above their heads; above them winged"Victories" seemed springing up into dark void, their sculpturedsymmetries just visible in the moonlight. On and on, swift and moreswift--persons began shouting from the buildings which they passed, now a few voices, now many, now a hundred. A volley of stones wasdashed down from the safe recesses of the pillars at the head of thelong flight of steps leading up to a temple. Presently an arrowwhirred over Drusus's head and smote on the masonry across the street. There were lights ahead--scores of torches waving--a small buildingwas on fire; the glare grew redder and brighter every instant; and adin, a din lifted by ten thousand men when their brute instincts areenkindled, grew and grew. Drusus dashed the cold sweat from his brow, his hand was trembling. He had a quiver and bow in the chariot, --apowerful Parthian bow, and the arrows were abundant. Mamercus hadtaught him to be a good archer, as a boy. Could he turn his old skillto account? Not unless his hand became more steady. 

Women screamed out at him and his band from the house roofs; a tilestruck one of the chariot horses and made it plunge wildly; Drususflung his strength into the reins, and curbed in the raging beast; hetossed the lines back to his driver and tore the bow from its casings. His car had rushed on ahead of Decimus Mamercus and the rest; twofurlongs more would bring him to the house of Cleomenes on one of thesquares of the city. The chariot swung around a street corner for thefinal stretch, the way was broad, the buildings on either side (theresidences of the Alexandrian gentry) high; but the whole street fromwall to wall was a seething mass of human forms. The fire wasspreading; the brightening flames shone down on the tossing, howlingmultitude--excited Egyptians from the quarter of Rhacotis, frenziedAsiatics in their turbans, mad sailors from the Eunostian port and thePharos island. At the head of the street the flames were pressing inupon a stately mansion around which the raging mob was packed thickly. On the roof of the threatened house figures could be seen in the luridlight, running to and fro, flinging down bricks and stones, and tryingto beat back the fire. It was the house of Cleomenes. Insensibly theveteran who had been driving reined in the horses, who themselves drewback, loath to plunge into the living barriers ahead. But Drusus waspast fear or prudence; with his own hands he sent the lash stingingover all the four, and the team, that had won more than a singletrophy in the games, shot forward. The chariot struck the multitudeand went, not through it, but over it. The on-rush was too rapid, toounexpected, for resistance. To right and left, as the water gives waybefore the bows of an on-rushing ship, the crowd surged back, theinstinct of panic reigning in every breast. Thick and fast, as quicklyas he might set shaft to string, flew Drusus's arrows--not a shaftthat failed a mark, as it cut into the living masses. The chariotreeled again and again, as this wheel or that passed over somethinganimate and struggling. The horses caught the fire of conflict; theyraced, they ran--and the others sped after them. The mob left offhowling: it screamed with a single voice of mortal dread. And beforeDrusus or any one else realized, the deed was done, the long lane wascleared, and the drivers were drawing rein before the house ofCleomenes. 

The heavily barred carriage-way was thrown open, the valiant merchantand his faithful employees and slaves greeted their rescuers as thelittle cavalcade drove in. There was not a moment to lose. Cleomenesand his household might indeed have long made good the house againstthe mere attacks of the mob; but the rioters had set the torch to someadjacent buildings, and all efforts to beat back the flames wereproving futile. There was no time to condole with the merchant overthe loss of his house. The mob had surged again into the streets andwas pressing back, this time more or less prepared to resist theRomans. The colonnades and the house roofs were swarming, the din wasindescribable, and the crackling and roar of the advancing flames grewever louder. 

The only alternative was a return to the palace. Cleomenes's employeesand slaves were to scatter into the crowd, where they would easilyescape notice; he himself, with his daughters, Artemisia, and theRoman ladies, must go in the chariots to the palace. Cornelia camedown from her chamber, her face more flushed with excitement thanalarm. Troubles enough she had had, but never before personal danger;and she could not easily grasp the peril. 

"Are you afraid, carissima, " said Drusus, lifting her into hischariot, "to ride back with me to the palace, through that wolf pack?"

"With you?" she said, admiring the ease with which he sprang about infull armour; "I would laugh at Medusa or the Hydra of Lerna with youbeside me. "

Cleomenes had been again upon the housetop to watch the progress ofthe fire. He came down, and Drusus instantly saw that there was dismaywritten on his face. The merchant, who was himself armed with swordand target, drew the officer aside and whispered:--

"Pray, Roman, to all your native gods! I can see a _lochos_[184] ofregular troops filing into the square before the house. Achillas isentering the city with his men. We shall have to fight our way throughhis thousands. "

 [184] A company of about one hundred men. 

Drusus uttered a deep and silent curse on himself for the mad bravadothat led him to leave the palace with but thirty men; why had he notwaited to assemble more? He could ride over the mob; to masterAchillas's disciplined forces was otherwise. 

A freedman came running down from the roof, crying out that it wasalready on fire. It was a time for action, not thought, yet even atthe moment Drusus's schoolboy Polybius was running through hismind--the description of the great riot when Agathocles, the wickedregent of Ptolemæus Philopator, and his sister Agathocleia, and hismother Oenanthe, had been seized by the multitude and torn in pieces, bit by bit, while yet they lived. Cornelia seemed to have caught somenew cause for fear; she was trembling and shivering when Drusus tookher in his arms and swung her into the chariot. He lifted in Fabialikewise, but the Vestal only bowed her head in calm silence. She hadoverheard Cleomenes's tidings, but, by stress of all the force of herstrong nature, remained composed. Decimus Mamercus took Artemisia, frightened and crying, into his own chariot. Monime, Berenice, andtheir father were to go in the other cars. The fire was gaining on theroof, smoke was pouring down into the court-yard, and now and then agleam came from a firebrand. The horses were growing restive andfrightened. 

"Throw open the gate!" commanded Drusus; his anxieties and despairwere driving him almost to frenzy, but the gods, if gods there were, knew that it was not for himself that he was fearful. His voicesounded hollow in his throat; he would have given a talent of gold fora draught of water. One of his men flung back the gateway, and in atthe entrance came the glare of great bonfires lighted in the streets, of hundreds of tossing torches. The yelling of the multitude waslouder than ever. There it was, packed thick on all sides: in itsmidst Drusus could see bright lines of tossing steel--the armour ofAchillas's soldiery! As the portal opened, a mighty howl of triumphburst from the people; the fire had driven forth to the mob its prey. Cornelia heard the howl--the voice of a wild and raging beast--andtrembled more. 

"Cornelia, " said Drusus, lowering his head so as to make himselfheard, "do not look above the framework of the chariot. Cling to ittightly, for we may have to pass over obstacles. Above all, do notspring out, however much we may be swayed and shaken. "

"I will not, Quintus, " and that was all she could be heard to say inthe din. 

And so the little cavalcade drove forth. Cornelia cowered in thechariot and saw nothing and heard everything, which was the same asnothing. Was she frightened? She did not know. The peril was awful. Ofcourse she realized that; but how could calamity come to pass, when itwas Drusus whose powerful form towered above her, when it was Drususwhose voice rang like a trumpet out into the press swaying around?

It was very dark crouching in the body of the chariot. She could justsee the face of Fabia opposite, very white, but, she knew, very calm. She reached out and caught the Vestal's hand, and discovered that herown was trembling, while the other's was perfectly steady. But thecontest, the fighting all about! Now the horses were dashing forward, making the chariot spring as though it were a thing of life; nowreined in sharply, and the heavily loaded car swayed this way andthat, almost to overturning. The uproar above her head passed thetelling by words; but there was one shout, now in Greek, now inEgyptian, that drowned all others: "Death to the Romans! tear them inpieces!" Missiles smote against the chariot; an arrow went cuttinginto the wood, driving its keen point home, and Cornelia experienced athrill of pain in her shoulder. She felt for the smart, found the meretip of the point only had penetrated the wood; but her fingers werewet when she took them away. Drusus was shooting; his bow-stringsnapped and snapped. Once a soldier in armour sprang behind thechariot when it came to a stop, and his javelin was poised todischarge; but an arrow tore through his throat, and he went down tothe pavement with a crash. The car rocked more and more; once thewheels slipped without revolving, as though sliding over some smoothliquid--not water. Cornelia felt powers of discriminating sensationbecoming fainter and fainter; a great force seemed pressing out fromwithin her; the clamour and shocks were maddening. She felt driven toraise her head, to look out into the raging chaos, though the firstglance were death. Peering back out of the body of the chariot now andthen, she saw a little. The Romans were charging this way and that, forcing their passage down the street, barred no longer by a mere mob, but by Achillas's infantrymen, who were hastening into action. Thechariot horses were wounded, some seriously; she was sure of that. They could not be driven through the spearmen, and the little handfulof cavalry was trying to break through the enemy and make space for arush. It was thirty against thousands; yet even in the mortal peril, which Cornelia realized now if she had never before, she had a strangesort of pride. Her countrymen were showing these Orientals how oneRoman could slay his tens, could put in terror his hundreds. Drususwas giving orders with the same mechanical exactitude of the drill, albeit his voice was high-pitched and strained--not entirely, perhaps, because of the need of calling above the din. 

"Form in line by fours!"

Cornelia raised her head above the chariot frame. The Romans hadworked their way down into a square formed by the intersection ofstreets. Behind them and on every building were swarming the people;right across the eastern avenue, where their escape lay, stood thebristling files of one of Achillas's companies. Stones and roof-tileswere being tossed in a perfect hail from the houses, and now and thenan arrow or a dart. The four chariots--one had only three horsesleft--were standing in the little plaza, and the troopers were formingbefore them. The arrows of the chariot warriors made the mob behindkeep a respectful distance. It was the triumph of discipline overman's animal sense of fear. Even the mob felt this, when it saw thelittle squadron fall into line with as much precision as on the paradeground. A tile smote one soldier upon the head, and he tumbled fromhis horse like a stone. His comrades never paused in their evolution. Then, for the first time, Cornelia screamed with horror and fright. Drusus, who was setting a new arrow to his bow, looked down upon her;he had never seemed so handsome before, with the fierce light of thebattle in his eyes, with his whole form swelling with the exertions ofconflict. 

"Down, Cornelia!" commanded the officer; and Cornelia did soimplicitly--to disobey him at that moment was inconceivable. 

"At them, men!"

And then came a new bound from the horses, and then a mighty crash andclash of bodies, blades, and shields, the snort of dying beasts, thesplintering of spear-shafts, the groans and cries of men in battle fortheir lives. The car rose on one wheel higher and higher; Cornelia wasthrown against Fabia, and the two women clung to each other, tooterrified and crushed to scream; then on a sudden it righted, and asit did so the soldier who had acted as charioteer reeled, his facebathed in blood, the death-rattle in his throat. Back he fell, piercedin face and breast, and tumbled from the car; and, as if answering tothis lightening of their burden, the hoofs of the hard-pressed horsesbit on the pavement, and the team bounded onward. 

"_Io triumphe!_" It was Drusus who called; and in answer to his shoutcame the deep Cæsarian battle-cry from hundreds of throats, "_VenusVictrix!_"

The chariot was advancing, but less rapidly. Cornelia rose and lookedforth again, not this time to be rebuked. Down the moon-lighted streetwere moving several infantry cohorts from the palace; the avenue wasclear, the mob and hostile soldiery had melted away like a mist; amounted officer came flying down the street ahead of the legionaries. 

"The ladies are safe, Imperator!" Drusus was reporting with militaryexactitude. "I have lost twelve men. "

Cæsar galloped along beside the chariot. He had his horse underabsolute control, and he extended his hand, first to Fabia, then toCornelia. 

"Fortune has been kind to us, " said he, smiling. 

"Vesta has protected us, " said Fabia, bowing her head. 

Cæsar cast a single inquiring, keen glance at the Vestal. 

"Your excellency doubts the omnipotence of the goddess, " continuedshe, looking him steadily in the face. 

"That a power has protected you, " was his answer, "I am the last todeny. "

But the Imperator and Drusus were exchanging glances; that a woman ofthe intelligence of Fabia could believe in the regular, personalintervention of the Deity in human affairs was to them, not anabsurdity, but a mystery unfathomable. 

And so, safe-guarded by the troops, they rode back to the palace, where the preparations for defence were ready, and all were awaitingthe onset of Achillas. The weary men on the walls cheered as thecarriages with their precious burdens rolled in at the gate; andcheered again for Drusus and his eighteen who had taught theAlexandrian rabble how Roman steel could bite. But Drusus himself wassad when he thought of the twelve good men that he had leftbehind--who need not have been sacrificed but for his headlongrashness. 

And how had the mob come to attack the house of Cleomenes? It was along story, but in a few words probably this. Pratinas had come anddemanded of Cleomenes that he surrender the ladies (doubtless becausethey would be useful hostages) to go with him to Achillas. Cleomeneshad refused, the more especially as Cornelia adjured him not todeliver them over to the clutches of such a creature; and Pratinaswent away full of anger and threatenings. How he came to be inAlexandria, and had returned so soon from Achillas's forces, if he hadindeed gone to Achillas, was neither clear nor important. But that hehad excited the mob to assail Cleomenes's mansion needed no greatproof. Cleomenes himself had seen his artful fellow-countrymansurveying the riot from a housetop, though doubtless he had kept at aprudent distance during the fighting. 

So ended that exciting day, or rather that night. It was Cleopatra whowith her own hands laid the bandages on Cornelia's wounded shoulder, but the hurt was not serious; only, as Drusus laughingly assured her, it was an honourable scar, as became the descendant of so manyfighting Claudii and Cornelii. 

"Ah! delectissime, " replied she, "it isn't the hurt that gives mepain; it is that I was frightened--frightened when you were actinglike one of the Heroes!"

"_Mehercle!_" laughed Drusus, before he left her to snatch a few hoursof well-earned rest and see to the dressing of his own bruises, "Iwould not blame a veteran for being panic-struck in that mêlée, if hedidn't have a chance to swing a weapon and so keep his heart fromstanding still. "

II

On the next day Achillas moved up his thousands and attacked thepalace fortifications. There was a desperate struggle in the streetsoutside the royal residence; the assailants were five to thedefenders' one, and the mob was arming to aid in the assault; but theEgyptians soon realized that it was no light thing to carry barricadesheld by men who had fought in Gaul, Britain, Germany, Spain, Italy, and Greece, and never tasted overthrow. Fiercest of all was the fightat the harbour, where the navy of the king lay, and which, if seized, would have put Cæsar at his enemies' mercy. But here, also, Romanvalour prevailed over Oriental temerity. All the ships that Cæsarcould not use were burned. With the rest he sailed over to the Pharosisland, and landed men to make good the tower on that point ofvantage. So ended the first round of battle; and the initial danger ofbeing overwhelmed by sheer force was over. 

But day after day of conflict followed. Princess Arsinoë and Achillasquarrelled in the camp of the besiegers, and this occasioned somerespite to the Romans. Still there was no end to the fighting. Cæsarsent off to Asia Minor, Syria, and Crete for reënforcements; butthese, all knew, could not come at once. A sharp struggle cleared thehouses nearest to the palace, and the general caused them to be razedand the positions thoroughly fortified. He seized the low-lying groundwhich ran as an insignificant valley down between the halves of thecity and tried to cut his enemies' position in twain. So the struggledragged on. Achillas had been murdered by Arsinoë, and she had placedin command her governor, the eunuch Ganymed, who was more dangerous byhis sly craft than fifty common generals. One day a frightenedcenturion reported to Cæsar that all the cisterns used by the troopswere becoming flooded with sea-water. It was a contrivance of Ganymed. The soldiers were in a panic, and it was all that their leader coulddo to pacify them. And then one of those strokes of fortune which willalways come to a favoured few was vouchsafed; as the terrified Romansdelved in the earth where rain had seldom fallen, lo! on the veryfirst night of their toil fresh water bubbled up, and all the dangerwas at an end. 

But it is needless to tell how the contest was waged; how thethirty-seventh legion arrived as help, how the wind kept them off portexposed to the enemy, and how Cæsar sailed out and succoured them, andworsted the Alexandrian ships. Then, again, Ganymed stirred thedisheartened citizens to build another fleet, and, by tremendousexertions, a new flotilla arose to threaten to cut Cæsar off; andthere was a second battle for dear life--this time on sea close by thecity; while Roman and Alexandrian stood staring on the housetops, withtheir hearts beating quickly, for defeat meant ruin to the Romans. And, again, the gods of the waters fought for Cæsar, and the beatenAlexandrian fleet drifted back to the shelter of its mole in theharbour of Eunostus. 

Next came a great struggle for the possession of the Pharos. Thefighting was severe, the footing on the island hard to win, up steepcrags and rocks swept by volleys of missiles; but Italian courageseemed inexhaustible. The legionaries, without ladders or fascines, stormed towers and battlements. The town on the island was taken andthe fort by it; then came the contest along the mole, driving theAlexandrians to the fort at the lower end. On the next day the secondfort, too, was taken. There was a bridge at the lower end of the mole, and the Alexandrians had tried to sail under to attack the Cæsariansin the western harbour. The legionaries toiled to fill up the passage. All seemed going well, but of a sudden befell calamity. 

 * * * * *

Panic will seize the most hardened veterans, and so it was that day. Aflank attack from the Alexandrian ships, and of other foes by land, asudden giving way on the part of some sailors who were defending theworking party, and then terror spread among the three veteran cohortsat the lower fort. Cæsar had been among his men directing the work, with him had gone Drusus, as aide-de-camp, and Agias, who had longbeen chafing under the restraints of the beleaguered palace andimagined the position safe and unassailable. The panic came morequickly than words may tell: a few hostile shouts from behind, criesof fear and alarm, a volley of darts, and the men who had hunted theMagnus to his death fled like raw recruits at their first arrow. 

The Cæsarian ships beside the mole began to thrust back, lest theenemy seize them. The terrified legionaries rushed from their ranks, cast away shield and cuirass, sword and dart. Every man cared but tosave himself, the spirit of mere fear uppermost. Cæsar and Drususrushed into the press, and commanded and exhorted; they might havebetter striven to turn the flight of a herd of frightened cattle;their words fell on deaf ears; the panic-struck soldiers swept themaside in a mad dash to get on board the receding shipping. The dangerwas terrible. On either side the enemy were rushing down the mole, andover the defences just forsaken by the Romans. Cæsar had been caughtin the swirl of his men and carried along despite his resistance. Hefell, and Drusus, who struggled to be near him, ran to his side. 

"We must escape, Imperator!" cried he, in his commander's ear. He sawthat there was blood on the general's face, and for an instant thatthought overpowered all others. 

"Save yourselves, " gasped Cæsar, striving to struggle to his feet. "You cannot aid me. "

A burly Egyptian soldier was running toward them, far ahead of theother enemies, flourishing a battle-axe. Did he realize the prize thatlay almost in his power? Drusus had not been fighting, but his swordwas now out. One blow of the terrible weapon of the legionary sent theoncomer sprawling in his own gore. A trifling respite had been gained. Cæsar steadied himself and looked about him. They were alone withAgias facing the foe; the legionaries were struggling one over anotherat the edge of the causeway, battling for dear life to force their wayinto the only galley that had not thrust off. 

"Come, " said Cæsar, turning; and the three joined in the flight. Tolinger were madness. 

It was only a trifling distance across the mole, but a frightfultragedy was enacted before their eyes as they ran. The galley by themole was none too large; as the frightened men piled into her, theshifting and increasing weight threw her on an uneven keel; and thencame the horror. A cry of mortal agony burst from hundreds of throatsas the ship capsized. Drusus, as he ran, saw, but for a twinkling, herdeck black with writhing men, then her curving sides and keel, ere allvanished behind the embankment of the mole. The three fugitives ran tothe edge of the causeway: below them, the water full of men battlingfor life; behind, the foe, now fully aware of their advantage andpressing on with exultant shouts. Never had the Imperator been ingreater peril. Drusus glanced at his chief and saw that he was verypale, evidently hurt in the scuffle. There was not a ship within hail, not a ship within two arrow-flights; and all seemed pulling back as ifto escape from the danger. 

"Leap, swim!" cried Cæsar, casting off his breastplate. [185]

 [185] _Lorica_. 

"There is no ship within reach, Imperator, " replied the young man, gravely. 

"You are young and strong, " was his answer, "and will come away safe. "Cæsar was preparing to spring over the edge. 

"And you?" cried Drusus, catching him by the wrist. He knew that Cæsarcould never swim the distance to the nearest ship. 

"In the hands of the Fates. "

But Agias, whose eyes had been straining out into the western harbour, cried, "Help! A galley is coming!"

"Imperator, " said Drusus, "you must wait for this galley. "

The foe were almost on them. 

"Are you mad?" was the exclamation of the general. 

"I can hold them off until it is safe to swim, " and Drusus had coveredhimself behind a coping in the masonry. 

Cæsar measured the distance with his eye. 

"We play at dice with Fortuna, whatever we do, " was his comment. "Come, then. " And the three steadied themselves on the narrow footingbehind the parapet, one thrust being enough to send them headlong. Fortunately weapons were ready--thrown away by the luckless fugitives. When the Alexandrians rushed up, three pila crashed in upon them, and, caught unawares by the little volley, they held back an instant. Thethree desperate men were counting their hearts' beats, while thedistance from the friendly galley lessened. Then the rush came, but itwas met, and, narrow as was the ledge, the attempt to carry it failed. The victors were stripping the dead, and, thus engaged, few joined inthe attack. Cæsar had laid down his paludamentum, and the attackersthought they had to deal simply with three ordinary Romans, who meantto sell their lives dearly. Another rush; the Imperator was forcedhard, so that another push would have sent him plunging into the sea;but his companions sent the attackers reeling back, and there was morebreathing time. The Alexandrians had received a taste of these Romanblades, and they did not enjoy it. Stripping the dead and picking uplost arms was more profitable than bearding the three lions. Thegalley was drawing nearer. Drusus began to think of something elsebesides thrusting at men before him. 

"They will give us time to escape, Imperator. "

"I think so;" but as Cæsar spoke all three started in dismay. Therewas a new face among the little band immediately opposed tothem--Pratinas. 

The Greek had never looked so handsome as in armour. His beautifullypolished mail sat on him with perfect grace; he was a model for anartist's Ares, the beautiful genius of battle. _He_, at least, knewwhose were those three stern, set faces defiantly peering over the lowparapet that ran waist-high along the edge of the mole. 

"At them!" cried the Hellene. "A thousand drachmas to the man whobrings the middle Roman down!"

The "middle Roman" was Cæsar. The enemy came on again, this time somespringing over the parapet to run along the narrow outer platform andattack from either side. But the galley was still nearer. 

"Throw off your armour and leap!" It was Drusus who commanded now, andCæsar who obeyed. The Imperator tore off his greaves and helmet, caught his general's cloak in his teeth, that it might not fall as atrophy to the foe, and sprang down into the waves; it was all done ina twinkling. But, quick as the leap had been, it was but just in time. A rush of irresistible numbers carried Drusus off of his feet, and hefell also--but fell in all his armour. It was an instant too crowdedfor sensations. He just realized that his helmet tumbled from his headas he fell backward. The weight of his greaves righted him while hewas in the air. He struck the water with his feet. There was achilling shock; and then, as he went down, the shield on his left armcaught the water in its hollow and bore him upward. Nature reasserteditself; by a mighty tug at the straps he wrenched away hisbreastplate, and could make shift to float. The short harbour waveslifted him, and he saw Cæsar striking out boldly toward the nowrapidly approaching galley. Even as the general swam, Drusus observedthat he held up a package of papyri in his left hand to keep it out ofthe wet; in uttermost perils Cæsar could not forget his books. Butwhile the young man gazed seaward, shook the water from his eyes, andstruck out to reach the friendly galley, groans and shouts arose fromthe waters near beside him. A voice--Agias's voice--was calling outfor help. The sound of his freedman's cries drove the Roman to action. Twice the waves lifted him, and he saw nothing; but at the third timehe lit on two forms clinging to a bit of wreckage, and yet strugglingtogether. A few powerful strokes sent him beside them, and, to hisunutterable astonishment, he beheld in the person who was battlingwith Agias for possession of the float none other than Pratinas. Thereare times when nothing has opportunity to appear wonderful. Thismoment was one of these. Actions, not words, were wanted. The elderGreek had made shift to draw a dagger, and was making a vicious effortto stab the other, who had gripped him round the neck with a tenacitythat would end only with life. One stroke of Drusus's fist as hesurged alongside the wreckage sent the dagger flying; and in atwinkling he had borne Pratinas down and had him pinioned fast on theplanking of the rude raft. There was a great shout rising from theenemy on the mole. A few darts spat in the water beside the fugitives;but at the sight of the approaching galley the Alexandrians gave way, for on her decks were swarming archers and slingers, and her powerfulballistæ were already working havoc. The pulsations of her banks ofoars grew slower as she swept up to the fugitives, the great column ofwhite spray curling around her prow sank, and while she drifted pastthem a boat shot forth. In a minute Drusus was standing on her deck, and the sailors were passing up Pratinas, still feebly resisting, andAgias, who was weak and helpless with his wounds. On the poop Cæsarwas conversing with a seaman of magnificent presence, who was in theact of assuring the Imperator that his vessel and crew were at thegeneral's service. 

III

The boats of the rescuer were pulling about, taking up such few Romansas had been able to keep afloat; but Drusus was too exhausted to givethem further heed. He realized that the vessel he was aboard was nomember of the Roman squadron, that its crew were neither Cæsarians norAlexandrians. Deft hands aided him off with his water-soaked clothing, and placed bandages on his bruises and cuts. A beaker of spiced wine, the like of which he had never drunk before, sent a thrill ofreinvigorated life through his veins. When he came back upon the deckhe found Cæsar--pale, yet, as ever, active and untiring--stillconversing with the captain of the vessel. The Imperator had a bandagedrawn across his forehead, but otherwise he seemed none the worse forhis recent danger. The galley, under a swinging oar, was pulling backacross the "Great Harbour" to the palace quay. The battle was over;four hundred good Roman lives had been lost, but the disaster had notentailed any serious compromise of Cæsar's position. There was no needof continuing at the Pharos, and it was well to assure the anxiousgarrison at the palace-fortress that their general was safe and sound. 

Drusus, as the one thing natural under the circumstances, went to thecaptain of his rescuers to express his obligation and gratitude. 

"This is Quintus Livius Drusus, " said Cæsar, good-naturedly, alreadyat his ease, to the strange commander, "who serves on my staff. Insaving him I owe you a debt, O Demetrius, in addition to my ownrescue. "

The stranger caught Drusus by both hands. 

"Are you indeed the son of Sextus Drusus of Præneste?" he questionedwith eagerness. 

"Assuredly, my good sir, " replied the young Roman, a bit confused atthe other's impetuosity. 

"And did your father never tell you of a certain Demetrius, a Greek, who was his friend?"

"He did; this Demetrius was cast into prison and condemned byPompeius; my father secured his escape;" and Drusus hesitated. Hismind had worked rapidly, and he could jump at a conclusion. 

"Say it out, your excellency, " pressed the seaman. 

"He became a pirate, though my father did not blame him overmuch. "

"_Eu!_" interrupted Cæsar, as if to prevent a moment of awkwardness. "Before King Minos's days nothing was more honourable. I have knownsome excellent men who were pirates. "

But Demetrius had, in true Eastern fashion, fallen on his knees andkissed the feet of Drusus. 

"The son of my preserver! I have saved him! Praises to Mithras!"

After this, there was no longer any constraint on the part of rescuersor rescued. And that evening, when all were safe behind the palacewalls, Cæsar called the pirate chief into the hall where he had beenbanqueting with Cleopatra, Fabia, and Cornelia, and his favouriteofficers, and asked for an account of his life. A strange enough storyit was Demetrius had to tell, though Cornelia had heard it before; oftwo voyages to wealthy Taprobane, [186] one as far as the GoldenChersonesos, [187] almost to the Silk Land, Serica, of voyages outbeyond the Pillars of Hercules into the Sea of Darkness, --everywherethat keel of ship had ploughed within the memory of man. 

 [186] Ceylon. 

 [187] Malay Peninsula. 

"And the men that drove you to freebooting?" asked Cæsar, when thecompany had ceased applauding this recital, which the sailor set forthwith a spontaneous elegance that made it charming. 

"I have said that they were Lucius Domitius, whom the gods haverewarded, and a certain Greek. "

"The Greek's name was--"

"Kyrios, " said Demetrius, his fine features contracting with pain anddisgust, "I do not willingly mention his name. He has done me so greata wrong, that I only breathe his name with a curse. Must you know whoit was that took my child, my Daphne, --though proof I have not againsthim, but only the warnings of an angry heart?"

"But he was--" pressed Cæsar. 

"Menon. " And as he spoke he hissed the words between his teeth. "He isone knave among ten thousand. Why burden your excellency withremembering him?"

So the conversation went on, and Cæsar told how he had been takenprisoner, when a young man, by pirates near Rhodes, and how he hadbeen kept captive by them on a little isle while his ransom wascoming. 

"Ah!" interrupted Demetrius, "I have heard the whole tale from one ofmy men who was there. You, kyrios, behaved like a prince. You badeyour captors take fifty talents instead of twenty, as they asked, andwrote verses and declaimed to your guards all the time you wereawaiting the money, and joined in all their sports; howbeit, you kepttelling them that you would crucify them all for the matter. "

"_Hem!_" laughed Cæsar. "Didn't I make good the threat?"

"You did with all save this man, who got away, " was his unflinchinganswer. "Although in mercy you strangled all your captors before youhad them put on the crosses. "

"_Hei!_" quoth the Imperator. "I should have spared them to give mecriticism of those verses now. "

"Kyrios, " rejoined Demetrius, "the man who survived assures me thatthe verses at least were wretched, though your excellency was a verygood wrestler. "

"_Euge!_ Bravo!" cried Cæsar, and all the company joined in. "I musttake a few of your men back to Rome, for we need critics for our roughLatin versifiers. "

Drusus, as soon as the laugh passed away, arose, and addressed hischief:--

"Imperator, " he said, "Agias this morning dragged from off the molewith him into the water one of the most dangerous men in the councilsof our enemies. I mean, as you know, Pratinas the Greek. He is now inthe palace prison, but every one is aware that, so long as he so muchas lives, we are hardly safe. What shall be done?"

Cæsar frowned. 

"This is hardly a basilica for a trial, " he replied, "but '_inter armasilent leges_. ' Tell the centurions on guard to bring him here. Iimagine we must grant him the form of an examination. "

Drusus went out to give the necessary orders. 

"You did not see Agias's prisoner?" asked Cornelia of Demetrius, whowas now an old friend. 

"I did not, " answered the pirate prince, pouring down the contents ofa prodigious beaker at a single draught. "A very desperate man, Iimagine. But it is hard for me to blame any one so long as he fightsopenly. Still, " he added, with a laugh, "I mustn't express suchsentiments, now that his excellency has given me this. " And he tossedover to Cornelia a little roll, tiny but precious, for it was ageneral pardon, in the name of the Republic, for all past offences, byland or sea, against the peace. "_Babai!_" continued Demetrius, lolling back his great length on the couch, "who would have imaginedthat I, just returning from a mere voyage to Delos to get rid of someslaves, should save the lives of my cousin, my benefactor's son, andCæsar himself, and become once more an honest man. Gods! gods! avertthe misfortunes that come from too much good fortune!"

"Was Agias badly wounded?" asked Cornelia, with some concern. 

"Oh, " replied his cousin, "he will do well. If his precious captivehad thrust his dagger a bit deeper, we might have a sorry timeexplaining it all to that pretty little girl--Artemisia he callsher--whom he dotes upon. By the bye, " continued Demetrius, as entirelyat his ease in the company as though he had been one of the world'shigh-born and mighty, "can your ladyship tell me where Artemisia isjust now? She was a very attractive child. "

"Assuredly, " said Cornelia. "She is here in the palace, very anxious, I doubt not, about Agias. Come, I will send for her. You shall tellher all about his escape. "

Demetrius appeared pleased, and Cornelia whispered to a serving-lad, who immediately went out. 

The tramp of heavy feet sounded on the mosaics outside the banquetingroom; the tapestry over the doorway was thrust aside, and in the dimlamplight--for it had long been dark--two rigid soldiers in armourcould be seen, standing at attention. Drusus stepped past them, andsaluted. 

"The prisoner is here, Imperator, " he said. 

"Bring him in, " replied Cæsar, laying down his wine-cup. 

The curtain swayed again, and the rest of a decuria of troops entered. In their centre was a figure whose manacles were clinking ominously. In the uncertain light it was only possible to see that the prisonerwas bent and shivering with fright. The general shrugged his shouldersin disgust. 

"This is the sort of creature, Drusus, " quoth he, derisively, "that isso dangerous that we must despatch him at once? _Phui!_ Let him standforth. I suppose he can still speak?"

Pratinas made a pitiable picture. The scuffle and wetting had donelittle benefit to his clothes; his armour the pirates had long sinceappropriated; his hair, rather long through affectation, hung indisorder around his neck. He had shaved off his "philosopher's" beard, and his smooth cheeks showed ugly scratches. He was as pale as whitelinen, and quaking like a blade of grass in the wind, the veryantithesis of the splendid Ares of the fight on the mole. 

"Your name is Pratinas?" began Cæsar, with the snappish energy of aman who discharges a disagreeable formality. 

"Yes, despotes, " began the other, meekly; but as he did so he raisedhis head, and the rays of one of the great candelabra fell full on hisface. In a twinkling a shout, or rather a scream, had broken fromDemetrius. The pirate had leaped from his couch, and, with strainingframe and dilated eyes, sprang between the prisoner and his judge. 

"Menon!" The word smote on the captive like the missile of a catapult. He reeled back, almost to falling; his eyes closed involuntarily. Hisface had been pale before, now it was swollen, as with the sight of ahorror. 

"Demetrius!" and at this counter exclamation, the cornered man burstinto a howl of animal fear. And well he might, for Demetrius hadsprung upon him as a tiger upon an antelope. One of the guardsindiscreetly interposed, and a stroke of the pirate's fist sent thesoldier sprawling. Demetrius caught his victim around the body, andcrushed the wretched man in beneath his grasp. The pseudo-Pratinas didnot cry out twice. He had no breath. Demetrius tore him off of hisfeet and shook him in mid-air. 

"Daphne! Daphne!" thundered the awful pirate; "speak--or by theinfernal gods--"

"Put him down!" shouted Cæsar and Drusus. They were almost appealingto an unchained lion roaring over his prey, Drusus caught one ofDemetrius's arms, and with all his strength tore it from its grasp. 

"The man cannot say a word! you are choking him, " he cried in thepirate's ear. 

Demetrius relaxed his mighty grip. Pratinas, for so we still call him, leaned back against one of the soldiers, panting and gasping. Drusustook his assailant by the arm, and led him back to a seat. Cæsar satwaiting until the prisoner could speak. 

"Pratinas, " said the Imperator, sternly, "as you hope for an easydeath or a hard one, tell this man the truth about his daughter. "

Pratinas drew himself together by a mighty effort. For an instant hewas the former easy, elegant, versatile Hellene. When he answered itwas with the ring of triumph and defiance. 

"Imperator, it would be easy to tell a lie, for there is no means ofproof at hand. This man, " with a derisive glance at his enemy, "saysthat I know something about his daughter. Doubtless, though, since hehas pursued for recent years so noble an avocation, it were moregrateful if he thanked me for caring for the deserted girl. Well, Ikept her until she was sufficiently old, and then--for I was at thetime quite poor--disposed of her to a dealer at Antioch, who wasplanning to take a slave caravan to Seleucia. My good friend probablywill find his daughter in some Parthian harem, unless--"

Cornelia had arisen and was whispering to Drusus; the latter turnedand held the raging pirate in his seat. Pratinas had made of everyword a venomed arrow, and each and all struck home. The workings ofDemetrius's face were frightful, the beads of agony stood on hisbrows, --doubtless he had always feared nothing less, --the certaintywas awful. Cornelia looked upon him half-anxious, yet serene andsmiling. Drusus, too, seemed composed and expectant. The Imperatorgazed straight before him, his eyes searching the prisoner through andthrough, and under the glance the Greek again showed signs of fear andnervousness. 

The curtain at the opposite end of the hall rustled, Cornelia rose andwalked to the doorway, and returned, leading Artemisia by the hand. The girl was dressed in a pure white chiton; her thick hair was boundback with a white fillet, but in the midst of its mass shone a singlegolden crescent studded with little gems. She came with shy steps anddowncast eyes--abashed before so many strangers; and, as she came, allgazed at her in admiration, not as upon the bright beauty of a rose, but the perfect sweetness of a modest lily. Cornelia led her on, untilthey stood before the prisoner. 

"Artemisia, " said Cornelia, in a low voice, "have you ever seen thisman before?"

Artemisia raised her eyes, and, as they lit on Pratinas, there was inthem a gleam of wonder, then of fear, and she shrank back in dread, sothat Cornelia threw her arm about her to comfort her. 

"_A! A!_" and the girl began to cry. "Has he found me? Will he takeme? Pity! mercy! Pratinas!"

But no one had paid her any more attention. It was Cæsar who hadsprung from his seat. 

"Wretch!" and his terrible eyes burned into Pratinas's guilty breast, so that he writhed, and held down his head, and began to mutter wordsinaudible. "Can you tell the truth to save yourself the most horribletortures human wit can devise?"

But Pratinas had nothing to say. 

Again Demetrius leaped upon him. The pirate was a frantic animal. Hisfingers moved as though they were claws to pluck the truth from theoffender's heart. He hissed his question between teeth that groundtogether in frenzy. 

"How did you get her? Where from? When?"

Pratinas choked for utterance. 

"Artemisia! Daphne! Yours! I lost her! Ran away at Rome!"

The words shook out of him like water from a well-filled flask. Demetrius relaxed his hold. A whole flood of conflicting emotions wasdisplayed upon his manly face. He turned to Artemisia. 

"_Makaira!_ dearest! don't you know me?" he cried, holdingoutstretched his mighty arms. 

"I am afraid!" sobbed poor Artemisia in dismay. 

"Come!" It was Cornelia who spoke; and, with the daughter cryingsoftly on one arm, and the father dragged along in a confused state ofecstasy on the other, she led them both out of the room. 

Pratinas was on his knees before Cæsar. The Hellene was againeloquent--eloquent as never before. In the hour of extremity hissophistry and his rhetoric did not leave him. His antitheses, epigrams, well-rounded maxims, figures of speech, never were at abetter command. For a time, charmed by the flow of his own language, he gathered strength and confidence, and launched out into bolderflights of subtly wrought rhetoric. He excused, explained away eachfault, vivified and magnified a hundred non-existent virtues, reared asplendid word-fabric in praise of clemency. To what end? Before himsat Cæsar, and Drusus, and a dozen Romans more, who, with cold, unmoved Italian faces, listened to his artificial eloquence, and gaveno sign of pity. And as he went on, the sense of his hopeless positionovercame the wretched man, and his skill began to leave him. He becamethick and confused of speech; his periods tripped; his thought movedbackward. Then his supple tongue failed him utterly, and, in cries andincoherent groans, he pleaded for the right to exist. 

"Man, " said the Imperator, when the storm of prayers and moans wasover, "you conspired against Quintus Drusus, my friend. Youfailed--that is forgiven. You conspired, I have cause to believe, against Pompeius, my enemy, but a Roman--that is unproved, andtherefore forgiven. You conspired with Pothinus against me--that wasan offence touching me alone, and so that, too, may be forgiven. Butto the prayers of a father you had wronged, you answered so that youmight gloat over his pain. Therefore you shall die and not live. Takehim away, guards, and strike off his head, for his body is too vile tonail to any cross. "

The face of the Greek was livid. He raised his manacled hands, andstrained at the irons in sheer despair. The soldiers caught himroughly to hale him away. 

"Mercy! kyrios! kyrios!" he shrieked. "Spare me the torments of Hades!The Furies will pursue me forever! Pity! Mercy!"

Cornelia had reëntered the room, and saw this last scene. 

"When my uncle and Ahenobarbus were nigh their deaths, " she saidstingingly, "this man observed that often, in times of mortal peril, skeptics call on the gods. "

"The rule is proved, " said Cæsar, casting a cynical smile after thesoldiers with their victim. "All men need gods, either to worship whenthey live, or to dread when they die. "

Chapter XXV

Calm after Storm

I

Like all human things, the war ended. The Alexandrians might rage anddash their numbers against the palace walls. Ganymed and youngPtolemæus, who had gone out to him, pressed the siege, but all invain. And help came to the hard-pressed Romans at last. Mithridates, afaithful vassal king, advanced his army over Syria, and came down intothe Delta, sweeping all before him. Then Cæsar effected a junctionwith the forces of his ally, and there was one pitched battle on thebanks of the Nile, where Ptolemæus was defeated, and drowned in hisflight. Less than a month later Alexandria capitulated, and saw thehated consular insignia again within her gates. There was work to doin Egypt, and Cæsar--just named dictator at Rome and consul for fiveyears--devoted himself to the task of reform and reorganization. Cleopatra was to be set back upon her throne, and her younger brother, another Ptolemæus, was to be her colleague. So out of war came peace, and the great Imperator gave laws to yet another kingdom. 

But before Cæsar sailed away to chastise Pharnaces of Pontus, andclose up his work in the East, ere returning to break down the standof the desperate Pompeians in Africa, there was joy and high festivalin the palace of Alexandria; and all the noble and great of thecapital were at the feast, --the wedding feast of Cornelia and thefavourite staff officer of the Imperator. The soft warm air of theEgyptian springtime blew over the festoons of flowers and over thecarpets of blossoms; never before was the music more sweet and joyous. And overhead hung the great light-laden dome of the glowing azure, where the storks were drifting northward with the northward march ofthe sun. 

And they sang the bridal hymns, both Greek and Latin, and cried"Hymen" and "Talasio"; and when evening came, "The torches tossed their tresses of flame, "

as said the marriage song of Catullus; and underneath the yellow veilof the bride gleamed forth the great diamond necklace, the gift ofCleopatra, which once had been the joy of some Persian princess beforethe Greeks took the hoard at Persepolis. 

Agias was there; and Cleomenes and his daughters; and Demetrius, withArtemisia, the most beautiful of girls, --as Cornelia was the fairestof women, --clinging fondly to her father's side. So there was joy thatday and night at the Alexandrian palace. And on the next morning thefleet trireme was ready which Demetrius had provided to bear Drususand Cornelia and Fabia back to Italy. Many were the partings at theroyal quay, and Agias wept when he said farewell to his late patronand patroness; but he had some comfort, for his cousin (who hadarranged with Cleomenes that, since his freebooting days were happilyover, the two should join in a partnership for the India trade) hadmade him a promise to be fulfilled in due course of time--forArtemisia was still very young. 

"You are no Ichomachus, Xenophon's perfect wife-educator, " theex-pirate had said to his importunate cousin; "wait a few years. "

And Agias was fain to be content, with this hope before him. 

There were other partings than his; but at last the adieus were over, and all save Cæsar went back upon the quay. The Imperator alonetarried on the poop of the vessel for an instant. His features werehalf wistful as he held Drusus by the hand, but his eyes were kindlyas ever to the young man. 

"Ah, amice!" he said, "we who play at philosophy may not know all thetime that there are gods, but at all times we know that there is themost godlike of divine attributes--love undefiled. Therefore let ushope, for we see little, and the cosmos is past finding out. "

He sprang back on to the quay. The musicians on the bow struck up withpipe and lyre; the friends on the pier flung aboard the last garlandsof rose and lily and scented thyme; the rowers bent to their task; theone hundred and seventy blades--pumiced white--smote the yellow wavesof the harbour, and the ship sped away. Cornelia, Fabia, and Drususstood on the poop gazing toward the receding quay. Long after they hadceased to recognize forms and faces they stared backward, until thepier itself was a speck, and the great buildings of the city grew dim. Then they passed the Pharos, and the land dwindled more and more intoa narrow, dark ribbon betwixt blue water and bluer sky. The longswells of the open sea caught the trireme, and she rode gallantly overthem--while the music still played, and her hardy crew, pirates nolonger, but pardoned men, --seamen, employees of the honest merchantDemetrius, --sent the good ship bounding faster and faster, as theypressed their strength against the springing oars. Higher and higherrose the column of foam around the cutwater; louder and louder sangthe foam under the stern, as they swept it past. The distant landfaded to a thread, to a line, was gone; and to north and south andeast and west were but the water and the cloudless ether. Fabia, Cornelia, and Drusus said little for a long time. Their eyes wandered, sometimes, over the track of the foam, and in their minds they sawagain the water-birds plashing among lotus plants, and heard theancient Egyptian litanies softly chanted behind the propylons of atemple built by some king two thousand years departed. But oftenertheir eyes ran ahead over the prow, and they walked again across theForum of the city of their fathers, and drove across the Latinplain-land, and spoke their own dear, sonorous, yet half-polishednative tongue. 

At last came evening; the sun sank lower and lower; now his broad reddisk hung over the crest of the western waves; now it touched them;now it was gone, and only the lines of dying fire streamed behindhim--the last runners in his chariot train. Up from the cabin belowcame the voice of the ship's steward, "Would their excellencies takeany refreshment?" But they did not go at once. They watched the firegrow dimmer and dimmer, the pure light change to red gold, the redgold to crimson, and the crimson sink away. 

"Ah, carissima!" cried Drusus, "would that when the orbs of our livesgo down to their setting, they might go down like the sunlight, morebeautiful in each act of the very dying, as they approach the finalgoal!"

"Yes, surely, " replied Cornelia, touching her hands upon his head;"but who knows but that Catullus the poet is wrong when he says thesun of life will never rise save once; who knows but that, if our sunset in beauty, it will rise again in grandeur even more?"

"My children, " said Fabia, gently, "the future lies in the knowledgeof the gods; but out of the present we must shape our own future. "

"No, delectissima, " replied her nephew, "to do that we are all tooweak; except it be true, as Aratus the poet has said, 'that we men arealso the offspring of gods, ' in which case Heaven itself must stoop togive us aid. "

But Cornelia's eyes had wandered down into the foam, still gleaming assnow in the failing light. 

"Ah!" she said, "the ages are long; if there be gods, their days areour lifetimes, and we but see a little and know not what to think. Butto live a noble life will always be the fairest thing, whether deathbe an unending sleep or the threshold to Pindar's Elysium. "

And what more of grave wisdom might have dropped from her lips nonemay relate, for her husband had shaken off the spell, and laughedaloud in the joy of his strong life and buoyant hopes. Then they allthree laughed, and thought no more of sober things. They went downinto the cabin just as the last bars of light flickered out in thewest, and only the starlight broke the darkness that spread out overthe face of the sea. 

II

Drusus, as he himself had predicted, never wrote a great treatise onphilosophy, and never drew up a cosmology that set at rest all theproblems of the universe; nor did Cornelia become a Latin Sappho orCorinna, and her wise lore never went further than to make her friendsafraid to affect a shammed learning in her presence. But they both didthe tasks that fell to them better because they had "tasted the wellof Parnassus" and "walked in the grove with the sages. " And Drusus, through an active life, played an honourable part as a soldier and astatesman: with his beloved Imperator in the battles of Thapsus andMunda, when the last of the oligarchs were beaten down; then, afterthe great crime of murder, with his friend Marcus Antonius; and then, when Cleopatra's evil star lured both her and Antonius to their ruin, he turned to the only man whose wisdom and firmness promised safety tothe state--and he joined himself to the rising fortunes of Octavius, the great Augustus, and fought with him to the end, until there was nolonger a foreign or civil enemy, and the "Pax Romana" gave quiet to asubject world. 

So Drusus had share with Mæcenas and Agrippa and the other imperialstatesmen in shaping the fabric of the mighty Roman Empire. Not in hisday did he or Cornelia know that it was wrong to buy slaves likecattle, or to harbour an implacable hate. They were but pagans. Tothem the truth was but seen in a glass darkly; enough if they lived upto such truth as was vouchsafed. But in their children's day thebrightness arose in the East, and spread westward, and ever westward, until the Capitoline Jupiter was nigh forgotten, the glories of theRoman eagles became a tradition, the splendour of the imperial city adream. For there came to the world a better Deity, a diviner glory, amore heavenly city. The greater grew out of the less. Out of theworld-fabric prepared by Julius Cæsar grew the fabric of the ChristianChurch, and out of the Christian Church shall rise a yet noblerspiritual edifice when the stars have all grown cold. 

THE END