A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C.

by William Stearns Davis

  Chapter I

  Praeneste

  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 Praeneste," 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 Praeneste,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 Praenestians; 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! Chloe," 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 Chloe, 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 Chloe, 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 Chloe'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 Chloe 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. Chloe 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 cortege was still a good way off.

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

  "He was not in charge of the estate," replied Lais, 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.Chloe'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] _Paenula_.

  [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 own
sthis 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 Chloe whispered to Lais: "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 Praeneste 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 Caesar 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 _praenomen_, 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 hisfiancee 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 Praeneste only a week. I wanted to get away from Baiae.[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 Baiae; 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 Laeca, 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 Praeneste 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 thePraeneste 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 Praeneste 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 AEmilia, 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 praetor, 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 praetor. 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?"

  "Caesar?"

  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 Caesar 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 Caesar--and I have written to Balbus, Caesar'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 Caesar,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 Caesar; 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.