“A miracle indeed! But the Fates would not have it that Cornelius Cinna should fall into so stupid a trap.--I mastered myself. At last Caesar rose from the table and dismissed us, and the guard escorted us home again.--I was choking with shame and wrath. What am I, my friend Nerva, that I am to submit to such treatment? Am I a Roman or no? Am I Cornelius Cinna--or a slave, a dog? Was such base buffoonery ever heard of even under a Nero, or Caligula? Nay, my endurance is at an end! Sooner would I be a street porter in the meanest suburb,[250] than remain senator under the burden of this intolerable yoke!” He sank back in his chair with a groan, and covered his face. There was a long pause, which Quintus was the first to break. “What!” he said with a scowl. “Did Caesar dare to do such things? I have long known, that he was liable to fits of extravagant whims and fancies, but--as I understood--only in his treatment of the foes of the throne. I believed in the wisdom of my venerable and learned father, when he assured me that some injustice, both apparent and real, was inevitable in the conduct of so vast an empire; that the good of the commonwealth was paramount over the fate of individuals.--But now, by the gods, Cinna! but if your indignation has not painted the picture too darkly....” “Too darkly!” exclaimed Cinna starting up. “To be sure, you are the son of Titus Claudius. But hear me to the end. Hardly had Charicles once more put out the lamp, when I again heard a knocking at the door. Would you believe it? another message from Caesar. His gracious majesty this time sent me the fellow who had led the dance in black as a present, and begged to know how I had liked the midnight supper. By the great name of Brutus! A tipsy reveller never spurned a beggar with more utter contempt;[251] in the first burst of anger I could have flung the boy on the ground. But I recollected myself. Cornelius Cinna will never let the weapon atone for the arm that wields it....” Nerva rose and clasped his excited and angry friend in his arms. “Be calm,” he said in a deep voice. Then, going up to Quintus he said loftily: “And you, noble youth, give me your right hand in pledge of silence! Not that Cornelius Cinna has said anything that need shun the light of day--but you know the danger to which freedom of speech is exposed. His indignation and bitter feeling must remain a secret....” “A secret? and why? To-morrow I propose seeing Caesar at his great reception. I will hear from his own lips the meaning of this mysterious midnight banquet. I will insist on satisfaction for Cinna....” “Madman, what are you thinking of?” cried Nerva horrified. “Of my duty--rely on my discretion. Caesar owes something to me....” “Domitian owes you something!” laughed Cinna scornfully. “Do you not know, that he hates those most who have rendered him a service? Do not I know it by my own experience?”