"It must be, then, but for a moment," he answered. "For duty calls me; and _you_ must not tempt me to break my new-born resolution. But say, Julia, will you tell all these things to Hortensia?" She smiled, and laid her hand upon his mouth; but he kissed it, and drew it down by gentle force, and repeated his question, "Will you?" "Not a word of it, Paul. Do you think me so foolish?" "Then I will—one day, but not now. Meanwhile, let us go seek for her." And, passing his arm around her slender waist, he led her gently from the scene of so many doubts and fears, of so much happiness. CHAPTER XVI. THE SENATE. Most potent, grave, and reverend Seniors. OTHELLO. The second morning had arrived, after that regularly appointed for the Consular elections. No tumult had occurred, nor any overt act to justify the apprehensions of the people; yet had those apprehensions in no wise abated. The very indistinctness of the rumored terror perhaps increased its weight; and so wide-spread was the vague alarm, so prevalent the dread and excitement, that in the haggard eyes and pale faces of the frustrated conspirators, there was little, if anything, to call attention; for whose features wore their natural expression, during those fearful days, each moment of which might bring forth massacre and conflagration? Whose, but the great Consul’s? The second morning had arrived; and the broad orb of the newly risen sun, lurid and larger than his wont, as it struggled through the misty haze of the Italian autumn, had scarcely gained sufficient altitude to throw its beams over the woody crest of the Esquiline into the hollow of the Sacred Way. The slant light fell, however, full on the splendid terraces and shrines of the many-templed Palatine, playing upon their stately porticoes, and tipping their rich capitals with golden lustre. And at that early hour, the ancient hill was thronged with busy multitudes. The crisis was at hand—the Senate was in solemn session. The knights were gathered in their force, all armed. The younger members of the patrician houses were mustered with their clients. The fasces of the lictors displayed the broad heads of the axes glittering above the rods, which bound them—the axes, never borne in time of peace, or within the city walls, save upon strange emergency. In the old temple of Jupiter Stator, chosen on this occasion for the strength of its position, standing on the very brink of the steep declivity of the hill where it overlooked the great Roman forum, that grand assembly sate in grave deliberation. The scene was worthy of the actors, as were the actors of the strange tragedy in process.