“Thank you, my friend; your information will be useful. I have not yet decided whether I will appear at table, or indeed leave my rooms at all. But, in any case, do you be here in good time for the precious divine comedy in the evening.”
“As my sovereign commands.”
“Listen—stop!” cried Caesar, as Parthenius was going. “To-day, you know, Julia, my late brother’s daughter, is to be buried[35]....”
“I know, my lord!”
“Well ... I forgot to say ... her ashes are to be carried to the temple of the Flavia family;[36] the dignity of our race requires it. I beg of you to omit nothing, that is due to the Manes of the illustrious dead—such as Julia. I would have the people know and tell each other, how Domitian honors the daughter of the divine Titus.”
“I understand.”
And Parthenius went.
“I will watch him,” said Domitian to himself. “If he too.... No torture would be too severe for such a breach of faith.... Folly! His fate is so inseparably bound up with mine, that my fall must bring him down too.”
He slowly raised himself from the pillow, leaning on his right hand, and a slight shudder ran through him; he was cold. “The consequence of yesterday’s excitement,” he said to himself, drawing the coverlet closer round him. By Castor, but it is becoming absurd! Always the same fabric of the brain—that foolish, hideous figure, with its ghastly face and gaping wound!" And he pressed his hand over his eyes.
“It is ridiculous. Must everything on earth repeat itself? Nero, gory shade, I laugh you to scorn! Have I waded in blood? Have I set the immortal city in flames, and struck my lyre while the people howled in anguish? Have I murdered my own mother? Nay—I am a mild and merciful sovereign. Compared with Nero—a child, a lamb, a dove! Away! Why stand grinning at me there, horrid vision? You have long been dust and ashes.—Vanish, go, or I will strangle you!...”