But as the door closed behind Julius, the Prefect took a small medal of embossed bronze from a box, and contemplated it for some time.
He was about to kiss it.
But suddenly the sarcastic expression again passed across his lips.
"Shame on thee, Cethegus!" he exclaimed, "before Cæsar's face!"
And he put the medal back into the box.
It was the head of a woman, and very like Julius.
CHAPTER VII.
Meanwhile it had become quite dark. The slave brought the pretty bronze lamp of Corinthian workmanship--an eagle, which carried the ball of the sun in its beak, filled with scented Persian oil.
"A Gothic warrior waits outside, sir; he wishes to speak with you alone. He looks very insignificant. Shall he lay down his arms?"
"No," answered Cethegus. "We do not fear the barbarians. Let him in."