His head, which had no other covering than its long curled and perfumed locks, was crowned with a myrtle wreath; he wore a long loose saffron-colored tunic richly embroidered, but ungirt, and flowing nearly to his ankles; and from the dress, and the torch-bearers, who preceded him, as well as from his wild eye and reeling gait, it was evident that he was returning from some riotous banquet. Fulvius instantly recognised him. It was a kinsman of his own, Aulus, the son of Aulus Fulvius, the noblest of the survivors of his house, a senator of the old school, a man of stern and rigid virtue, the owner of that grand simple mansion, beside the door of which he stood. But, though he recognised his cousin, he was at a loss for a while to discover the cause of the tumult; ’till, suddenly, a word, a female name, angrily murmured through the crowd, gave a clue to its meaning. "Icilia! Icilia!" Still, though the crowd swayed to and fro, and jostled, and shouted, becoming evidently more angry every moment, it made way for the young noble, who advanced fearlessly, with a sort of calm and scornful insolence, contemning the rage which his own vile deed had awakened. At length one of the mob, bolder than the rest, thrust himself in between the torch bearers and their lord, and meeting the latter face to face, cried out, so that all the crowd might hear, "Lo! Aulus Fulvius! the violator of Icilia! the friend of the people!" A loud roar of savage laughter followed; and then, encouraged by the applause of his fellows, the man added, "Vote for Aulus Fulvius, the friend of the people! vote for good Aulus, and his virtuous friend Catiline!" The hot blood flashed to the brow of the young noble, at the undisguised scorn of the plebeian’s speech. Insolence he could have borne, but contempt!—and contempt from a plebeian! He raised his hand; and slight and unmuscular as he appeared, indignation lent such vigor to that effeminate arm, that the blow which he dealt him on the face, cast the burly mechanic headlong, with the blood spouting from his mouth and nostrils. A fearful roar of the mob, and a furious rush against the oppressor, followed. The torch-bearers fought for their master gallantly, with their tough oaken staves; and the young man showed his patrician blood by his patrician courage in the fray. Flaccus, too, wished and endeavored to interpose, not so much that he cared to shield his unworthy kinsman, as that he sought to preserve the energies of the people for a more noble trial. The multitude, moreover, impeded one another by their own violent impetuosity; and to this it was owing, more than to the defence of his followers, or the intercession of the popular Flaccus, that the young libertine was not torn to pieces, on the threshold of his own father’s house.