"Death? This time your god has saved me, Syphax.--Let the tribunes enter."
Very soon Piso, the Licinii, Salvius Julianus, and some others stood before the Prefect; they would have hurried up to his couch with emotion, but he signed to them to compose themselves.
"Rome, through me, thanks you! You have fought like--like Romans! I can say nothing more, or more flattering."
He looked at the row of men before him reflectively, and then said:
"One is missing--ah, my Corinthian! His corpse is saved, for I recommended it, and the two statues, to Piso. Let a slab of black Corinthian marble be placed upon the spot where he fell; set the statue of Apollo above the urn, and inscribe on the latter, 'Here died, for Rome, Kallistratos of Corinth; he saved the god, and not the god him.' Now go. We shall soon meet again upon the walls.--Syphax, send Procopius to me. And bring a large cup of Falernian.--Friend," he cried to Procopius as the latter entered, "it seems to me as if, before I fell into this feverish sleep, I had heard some one whisper, 'Procopius has saved the great Belisarius!' A deed which will give you immortality. Posterity will thank you--therefore I need not. Sit by my side and tell me all. But wait--first arrange my cushions, so that I may see my Cæsar. The sight of that statue strengthens me more than medicine. Now speak."
Procopius looked sharply at the sick man.
"Cethegus," he then said, in a grave voice, "Belisarius knows everything."
"Everything?" said the Prefect with a smile. "That is much."
"Cease your mockery, and do not refuse admiration to nobleness of mind, you, who yourself are noble!"
"I? I know nothing of it."