“I am ill, my faithful friends,” he said in a low voice. “I need rest and quiet reflection--but the good of the Empire is paramount. Listen and perpend.” He sat down and went on deliberately: “The times are perilous; treason lurks in every corner. Rome relies on Caesar; I must act. Terror alone can suppress treason, and I will strike terror into the traitors. The law against the Nazarenes is a good beginning, but it is merely a beginning. It only attacks the Catilines among the slaves and lowest class. We must go farther. We must strike at Caesar’s foes in the houses of the great and noble among the knights, and in the Senate. Numbers are suspected by us, and to be suspected is to deserve death. Our heart, in its tender mercy,[13] has too often held our hand, but now the hour is come. In profound silence, but without delay, we must act--must strike the guilty with the swiftness and certainty of lightning. This very day vengeance must be planned. Once more, valiant Norbanus: how about the trustworthiness of your cohorts?” Norbanus bowed. "They are Caesar's--heart and soul and body." “The little gold Domitians have pleased the good fellows? Keep them warm, dear Norbanus, and if the two millions are not enough for you, say so without reserve. The soldiers, who protect my Empire, must learn to believe, that liberality sits on the throne of the Caesars.” “Many thanks, my lord, but greater largesse might weaken discipline.” “But the centurions?” “They are without exception strict and faithful. At a nod from me they would ride through fire and water.” “Capital!” said Domitian with a bitter-sweet smile; for, without intending it, the general had given utterance to a painful sentiment, of which the Emperor had long been conscious: namely, that the praetorian guard would first obey their general, and at his orders only were devoted to their sovereign. This did not escape the keen insight of Clodianus, and again a subtle line of malicious satisfaction curled the lips of the man, who usually played the part of stolid honesty with the greatest success. As chance would have it, on this occasion the Emperor, looking up suddenly, caught the last quivering trace of this smile. He took no notice of it; he perhaps became a shade paler--but he turned to whisper to the prefect of the guard. “Only let this cloud of disaffection and excitement pass over,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder, “and, I promise you, Caesar will not forget you. Now, my friends, farewell, and await our commands.” The general received a farewell kiss, and quitted the room. “What an age is this, by all the gods!” exclaimed Domitian, throwing up his arms. “To contend against the malice of the people, Caesar is forced to sacrifice the hours, which he owes to the happiness and welfare of the people. Woe is me, that the immortals should allow such things to happen! Up and to work then! That is the word.”