Catiline rushed to the window. Zoe was standing in the shade. He stepped out. She darted into the room--passed like a flash of lightning by the startled Cethegus--flew down the stairs--through the court--through the vestibule--through the street. Steps, voices, lights, came fast and confusedly behind her; but with the speed of love and terror she gained upon her pursuers. She fled through the wilderness of unknown and dusky streets, till she found herself, breathless and exhausted, in the midst of a crowd of gallants, who, with chaplets on their heads and torches in their hands, were reeling from the portico of a stately mansion. The foremost of the throng was a youth whose slender figure and beautiful countenance seemed hardly consistent with his sex. But the feminine delicacy of his features rendered more frightful the mingled sensuality and ferocity of their expression. The libertine audacity of his stare, and the grotesque foppery of his apparel, seemed to indicate at least a partial insanity. Flinging one arm round Zoe, and tearing away her veil with the other, he disclosed to the gaze of his thronging companions the regular features and large dark eyes which characterise Athenian beauty. "Clodius has all the luck to-night," cried Ligarius. "Not so, by Hercules," said Marcus Coelius; "the girl is fairly our common prize: we will fling dice for her. The Venus (Venus was the Roman term for the highest throw of the dice.) throw, as it ought to do, shall decide." "Let me go--let me go, for Heaven's sake," cried Zoe, struggling with Clodius. "What a charming Greek accent she has! Come into the house, my little Athenian nightingale." "Oh! what will become of me? If you have mothers--if you have sisters"-- "Clodius has a sister," muttered Ligarius, "or he is much belied." "By Heaven, she is weeping," said Clodius. "If she were not evidently a Greek," said Coelius, "I should take her for a vestal virgin." "And if she were a vestal virgin," cried Clodius fiercely, "it should not deter me. This way;--no struggling--no screaming." "Struggling! screaming!" exclaimed a gay and commanding voice; "You are making very ungentle love, Clodius." The whole party started. Caesar had mingled with them unperceived. The sound of his voice thrilled through the very heart of Zoe. With a convulsive effort she burst from the grasp of her insolent admirer, flung herself at the feet of Caesar, and clasped his knees. The moon shone full on her agitated and imploring face: her lips moved; but she uttered no sound. He gazed at her for an instant--raised her--clasped her to his bosom. "Fear nothing, my sweet Zoe." Then, with folded arms, and a smile of placid defiance, he placed himself between her and Clodius. Clodius staggered forward, flushed with wine and rage, and uttering alternately a curse and a hiccup. "By Pollux, this passes a jest. Caesar, how dare you insult me thus?"