"As usual. You should not need to ask such a question! He had really beaten the enemy, and was on the point of forcing the Persian King, Chosroes, the son of Kabades, to conclude a lasting peace. Just then Areobindos, the Prince of Purple Snails, appeared in the camp with the announcement of an armistice of half a year's duration, granted, unknown to Belisarius, by Byzantium. Justinian had long ago entered into secret negotiations with Chosroes; he needed money; he again pretended to mistrust Belisarius, and let the Persian King escape for a hundred tons of gold, just as we were about to draw the net over him. Narses was wiser. When the Prince of Purple Snails came to him, on the Saracen side of the scene of war, he declared that the ambassador must be either a forger or a madman, took him prisoner, and continued the war until he had completely vanquished the Saracens. Then he sent the imperial ambassador back with an excuse to Byzantium. But the best excuse was the keys and treasures of seventy forts and towns which he had wrested from the enemy during the armistice, which Belisarius had respected." "This Narses is----" "The greatest man of our time," said Procopius, "the Prefect of Rome not excepted; for he does not, like the latter, wish for impossibilities. But we--that is, Belisarius and the cripple Procopius--always growling and grumbling, yet always as faithful as a poodle-dog, and never taught by experience, kept the armistice, gnashed our teeth, and returned to Byzantium. And now we wait for new commissions, laurels, and kicks. Fortunately, Antonina has renounced her inclination for the flowers and verses of other men, and so the couple--the lion and the dove--live very happily together here in Byzantium. Belisarius, day and night, naturally thinks of nothing but how he can again prove his heroism and devotion to his imperial master. Justinian is his folly, as Belisarius is mine. But now for your story." CHAPTER VI. Cethegus took a deep draught from the cup which stood before him, which was made of chased gold and shaped like a tower. He was considerably changed since that last night in Rome. The wrinkles on his temples were more sharply defined; his lip more firmly closed; his under-lip protruded still farther than before; and the ironical smile, which used to make him look younger and handsomer, very rarely played round the corners of his mouth. His eyes were generally half shut; only sometimes did he raise the lids to dart a glance, which, always dreaded by those upon whom it fell, now appeared more cruel and piercing than ever. He seemed to have become, not older, but harsher, more inexorable, and more merciless.