“Are you ready?” he asked her.
She looked him full in the face and slowly raised her left arm, stiffly straight, hand extended, palm down, until her finger-tips were almost level with his face and not a foot from it. Holding it so at full stretch she asked:
“What do you think of that? Am I ready?”
Commodus regarded her finger-tips, her face, and again her finger-tips:
“Hercules be good to me!” he exclaimed. “Not a tremble, not a waver, not a quiver. You are mighty cool. You’ve plenty of confidence. I take it you are ready.”
“I am,” said Brinnaria. “Where is that sieve?”
From behind her spoke Calvaster. “I have a sieve here.”
Commodus rounded on him like an angry mastiff.
“Who authorized you to speak?” he demanded. “You act as if you were Emperor. You are merely a minor Pontiff. Remember that and speak when you are spoken to.”
Calvaster, abashed but persistent, stammered: