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, Caesar the second! You are to rise to new glories, and Caesar is to utterly fall!" "The stars have said it, gentlemen," said Pompeius, solemnly; "Caesar shall meet his fate. Let there be war." * * * * * Lentulus Crus rode away from the conference, his litter side by side with that of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, the consular, whom we will know as Domitius to distinguish from his son and namesake. Domitius, a handsome, highly polished, vigorous, but none the less unprincipled man, who was just reaching the turn of years, was in high spirits. No oligarch hated Caesar more violently than he, and the decision of Pompeius was a great personal triumph, the crowning of many years of political intrigue. What Pompeius had said, he had said; and Caesar, 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 Lentuli and the Domitii?" was his proposition. "I should be rejoiced and honoured to have the opportunity," was the reply; and then in another tone Domitius added, "Lentulus, do you believe in astrologers?" "I do not really know," answered the other, uneasily. "Neither do I," continued Domitius. "But suppose the stars speak truly; and suppose," and here his voice fell, "it is Caesar who is highest in power, in ability, in good fortune;--what then for Pompeius? for us?" "Be silent, O prophet of evil!" retorted Lentulus, laughing, but not very naturally. Chapter VII Agias's Adventure I Pisander's view of life became a score of shades more rosy when he seized the hand of the handsome slave-boy, then embraced him, and began praising the gods for preserving his favourite's life. Then the worthy philosopher recollected that his wisdom taught him there were no gods, and he plunged into a rambling explanation of his position, which would have lasted forever, unless Agias had cut him short with a merry gibe, and told him that he must positively come to a tavern and enjoy at least one beaker of good Massic in memory of old friendship. And Pisander, whose spareness of living arose more from a lack of means than from a philosophic aversion to food and good cheer, was soon seated on a bench in one of the cheap restaurants[91] that abounded in the city, balancing a very large goblet, and receiving a volley of questions which Agias was discharging about Valeria's eccentricities, Calatinus's canvass, Arsinoe, Semiramis, and the rest of the household of which he had been a member. [91] _Popinae_.