"Glycon! Glycon! _did_ you see the old woman rolling on the ground with my beard?" When they arrived at the palace Cæsar ordered-- "Quick! Let me have a perfumed bath and supper. The walk has famished me." A courier came near holding a letter. "What is it, Norban? No, no, we will have business to-morrow morning." "Let the magnanimity of Cæsar pardon me! It is an important message sent direct from the camp of the Emperor Constantius." "From Constantius? Give it me." Gallus broke the seal of the missive, read, and grew pale. His knees gave way--he would have almost fallen without the support of his courtiers. Constantius, in exquisite and flattering terms, invited his tenderly-loved cousin to come to Milan. At the same time the Emperor summoned the two legions lodged at Antioch, the only bodyguard left to Gallus. Constantius designed thus to leave him defenceless and draw his rival into the snare. When Gallus had recovered presence of mind he murmured weakly-- "Call my wife!" "Your Majesty's Imperial consort has just set out for Antioch." "What! She knows nothing of this?" "No." "My God, my God! What is to be done? What can be done without her? Tell the envoy of the Emperor--No, say nothing to him--I scarcely know--How is it possible to arrive at a decision alone? Send a swift post to Constantia.... Say that Cæsar begs her to return! My God, what is to be done?" He paced up and down distractedly, now hiding his face in his hands, now nervously twisting his fair beard and repeating, "No, no, nothing in the world will induce me to go. I would rather die! Ah! I know Constantius!" Another messenger came up, a scroll in his hand. "From the spouse of Cæsar! Her Highness in leaving begged you to sign this as soon as possible." "What! Another sentence of death?... Clement of Alexandria ... this is really too much. Three a day...." "Cæsar, it was your consort's desire." "Well, well, what matters it? Nothing! Where's the pen? Nothing matters now! But why has she gone away? How can I get out of this pretty pass single-handed?" And having signed the death-warrant he fixed those charming and listless blue eyes upon the servants. "The bath is ready, sire, and the supper will be served after it." "The supper? I'm hungry no longer. But what dish is there?" "Truffles from Africa." "Fresh gathered?" "They arrived this morning." "Would n't it be better to raise an army, eh? What do you say, my friends? I feel so overwhelmed.... Truffles, you say? I was thinking about truffles only this afternoon." The agitation of his countenance gave way to the airiest of smiles. Before plunging into the water, which was made milky and iridescent by the infusion of perfumes, Gallus waved his hand lightly: "Pooh! the great thing is not to think! God have mercy on us all!... Perhaps after all Constantia will smooth over the matter...." And his chubby face suddenly lighted while he plunged with glee into the scented water. He called out gaily--