"Wisely you have resolved, my Catiline, as ever," said Longinus Cassius. "Go, and success sit upon your banners!" "Be not thou over slow, my Cassius, nor thou, Cethegus, over daring. Temper each one, the metal of the other. Let your counsels be, as the gathering of the storm-clouds, certain and slow; your deeds, as the thunderbolt, rash, rapid, irresistible!" "How will you go forth, Catiline? Alone? in secret?" asked Autronius. "No! by the Father of Quirinus! with my casque on my head, and my broad-sword on my thigh, and with three hundred of my clients at my back! They sup in my Atrium, at the fifth hour of the night, and at the sixth, we mount our horses. I _think_ Cicero will not bar our passage." "By Mars! he would beat the gates down rather, to let you forth the more easily." "If he be wise he would." "He _is_ wise," said Catiline. "Would God that he were less so." "To be overwise, is worse, sometimes, than to be foolish," answered Cethegus. "And to be over bold, worse than to be a coward!" said Catiline. "Therefore, Cethegus, be thou neither. Now, my friends, I do not say leave me, but excuse me, until the third hour, when we will banquet. Nay! go not forth from the house, I pray you; it may arouse suspicion, which I would have you shun. There are books in the library, for who would read; foils in the garden, balls in the fives-court, for who would breathe themselves before supper; and lastly, there are some fair slaves in the women’s chamber, for who would listen to the lute, or kiss soft lips, and not unwilling. I have still many things to do, ere I depart." "And those done, a farewell caress to Orestilla," said Cethegus, laughing. "Aye! would I could take her with me." "Do you doubt her, then, that you fear to leave her?" "If I doubted, I would _not_ leave her—or I would leave her _so_, as not to doubt her. Alexion himself, cannot in general cure the people, whom I doubt." "I hope you never will doubt me," said Curius, who was present, the Judas of the faction, endeavoring to jest; yet more than half feeling what he said. "I hope not"—replied Catiline, with a strange fixed glance, and a singular smile; for he did in truth, at that very moment, half doubt the speaker. "If I do, Curius, it will not be for long! But I must go," he added, "and make ready. Amuse yourselves as best you can, till I return to you. Come, Aulus Fulvius, I must speak with you farther." And, with the words, he left them, not indeed to apply themselves to any sport or pleasure, but to converse anxiously, eagerly, almost fearfully, on the events which were passing in succession, so rapid, and so unforeseen. Their souls were too much absorbed by one dominant idea, one devouring passion, to find any interest in any small or casual excitement.