"Imperator," replied Decimus, trying to speak with unimpassioned preciseness, "a messenger has just arrived from Rome. He reports that the Senate and consuls have declared the Republic in peril, that the veto of your tribunes has been over-ridden, and they themselves forced to flee for their lives." Caesar had carelessly dropped a writing tablet that he was holding, and now 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 can set before him." "But his news is of extreme importance," gasped Decimus, only half believing 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 eat and drink no more." Decimus saluted again, and withdrew, while his superior opened the roll in his hands, and with all apparent fixity and interest studied at the precepts and definitions of the grammar of Dionysius Thrax, the noted philologist. At the end of some minutes Quintus Drusus stood before him. The young Praenestian was covered with dust, was unkempt, ragged; his step was heavy, his arms hung wearily at his side, his head almost drooped on his breast with exhaustion. But when he came into the Imperator's presence, he straightened himself and tried to make a gesture of salutation. Caesar had risen from his chair. "Fools!" he cried, to the little group of slaves and soldiers, who were crowding into the room, "do you bring me this worn-out man, who needs 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 Caesar spoke he half led, half thrust, the messenger into his own chair, and, anticipating the nimblest slave, unclasped the travel-soiled paenula from Drusus's shoulders. The young man tried to rise and shake off these ministrations, but the proconsul gently restrained him. A single look sufficed to send all the curious retinue from the room. Only Antiochus remained, sitting on a stool in a distant corner. "And now, my friend," said Caesar, smiling, and drawing a chair close up 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 two days! This is incredible! And you come alone?"