I.
NEWS.
"A troop of pipe-players to Minerva on the Ides of June, if we win!"
"And my household to Mars, if we have lost!"
The speakers were hurrying along the street that leads down from the Palatine Hill toward the Forum, and both were young. Their high shoes fastened with quadruple thongs and adorned with small silver crescents proclaimed their patrician rank.
"Why do you vow as if the gods had already passed judgment, Lucius?"
"Because, my Caius, I am very sure that a battle has been fought. What else do these rumours mean that are flying through the city? rumours that none can trace to a source. It is only a few minutes, since my freedman, Atius, told me how the slaves report that our neighbour Marcus Sabrius rode in last night through the Ratumenian Gate; and when I sent to his house to inquire, the doorkeeper feigned ignorance. That is only one of a hundred tales. Note the crowd thickening around us as we approach the Forum, and how all are pressing in the same direction. Study their faces, and doubt what I say if you can."
"But is it victory or defeat?"
"Answer me your own question, Caius. Is 'victory' or 'defeat' the word that men do not dare to utter?"
The face of Caius became grave. Then suddenly he burst out with:—