“Ah ha! One of the praying ninnies, that the juggler knows how to beguile so well! Capital! The girl pleases me. I should like—if it were only to spite the old curmudgeon—I hate Cinna like poison. He wants a lesson—he always carries his head as high as a conqueror in a triumph. As if it were not in my power to see those haughty iron features flung in the dust at my feet—Parthenius, we will talk of that, again. But now, away with all gloomy reflections, and long live folly!”
“Thanks, all thanks!” cried Clodianus, kissing the sovereign’s hand.
“Pull the hood over my face, so—now my cloak over my chin—and we will go back into the streets. I should like to see the man, who can discover Caesar in such a guise. We must find an adventure yet, Parthenius—[259] some mad and absurd diversion, if it were only that the lips, which pronounce the fate of nations, should kiss some swarthy negress."[260]
He led the way, and the others followed. Domitian did not see how his companions clenched their fists under their cloaks, nor hear the bitter curses, hardly uttered by their quivering lips.
CHAPTER XIII.
At the hour when Cornelia was setting out on her expedition to the temple of Isis, Lucilia and Claudia, escorted by their brother, reached home. The Flamen was still at work in his study; his grave and anxious face could be seen through the half-open door, bowed over his table. Even the sound of steps, which rang through the silence of the atrium, did not interrupt his busy labors.
Quintus hesitated; he would gladly have gone in to embrace his father, but after brief reflection he decided not to interrupt his late studies. He bid his sisters good-night, waved his hand affectionately towards the motionless figure that leaned over the desk, and left the house. His slaves and freedmen were waiting for him outside.
“All go home!” he said shortly.
His people were accustomed to his moods, and no one was surprised. But Blepyrus reminded him, with a shudder, of the attack in the Cyprius street.