"At present," he muttered, when again alone, "Tiberius, though a Cæsar, needs me; Germanicus is Cæsar too, and may become emperor. If Germanicus wished it, right or wrong--if _per fas et nefas_--he would win. He has much of the genius of Caius Julius and his defect of overtrustfulness; but none of his many vices. I doubt if he will ever be emperor; he is too Athenian, and also too honorable, too disinterested. Somehow I feel, too, as if he were going to be assassinated; he believes readily in men. Tiberius has smaller abilities, worse qualities, and better chances. He will rule the world, and Ælius Sejanus will rule him." As Sejanus said these things to himself in an indistinct murmur, of which none could have heard the precise words, a voice at his elbow astonished him. Said the voice, "How far is it, illustrious general, to Formiæ?" The prætorian chief turned with a start, and saw that the speaker was a mounted traveller, attended by two servants, also on horseback; but there was so little light that he could not distinguish the stranger's features, nor more of his dress and appointments than that they were not, as it seemed, Italian. "About five thousand paces," he answered. "However, there is no inn at Formiæ. Some eight hundred paces from here is a good wayside tavern, (_mansio_.) But you call me general, for I wear the dress. You do not, however, know me." "Not know the distinguished chief of the prætorians? Not know the happy and unhappy, the fortunate and unfortunate Sejanus?" "Happy and unhappy," reëchoed the latter, "fortunate and unfortunate! What means this jargon? You could use that language of every mortal. What you say you unsay." While thus replying, he endeavored to discern the dim features of his new companion. "Think you so?" said the man. "Then, pray, would it be the same if I were to say, for example, unhappy and happy, unfortunate and fortunate?" "Yes." "Alas! no." "What!" said Sejanus. "The happiness is present, the good fortune is present, but the misfortune and unhappiness are to come. Is this your meaning?" "As I always say what I mean," rejoined the other, "so I never explain what I say." "Then at least," observed Sejanus, with great haughtiness of tone and manner, "you will be good enough to say who you are. As the _Prætor Peregrinus_,[26] especially charged to look after foreigners, I demand your name. Remember, friend, that six lictors, as well as twenty thousand soldiers, obey Sejanus." "I am the god Hermes," replied the other, riding suddenly ahead, followed by both his attendants. The movement was so unexpected that the figure of the stranger had become almost indistinguishable in the obscurity, before Sejanus urged his fleet Numidian steed forward at a bound in pursuit. "Take care," said a voice in his front, "that your horse do not throw you, impious man!"