"I could never look a Goth in the face again!"
"It will not be necessary. You will take the King a prisoner to Byzantium. The disarmed nation will cease to be a nation."
"No, no, I will not do it."
"Good. Then let your whole army make its will. Farewell, Belisarius. I go to Rome. I have not the least desire to see fifty thousand Goths fighting in despair. And how Emperor Justinian will praise the destroyer of his best army!"
"It is a terrible alternative!" cried Belisarius.
Cethegus slowly approached him.
"Belisarius," he said, with a voice which seemed to come from his very heart, "you have often held me to be your enemy. And I am, in some sort, your adversary. But who can be near Belisarius in the field of battle and not admire him!" His manner had a suavity and solemnity seldom seen in the sarcastic Prefect. Belisarius was touched, and even Procopius wondered. "I am your friend whenever possible. In this case I will prove my friendship by giving you good advice. Do you believe me, Belisarius?"
And he laid his left hand upon the heroes shoulder, and offered him his right, looking frankly into his eyes.
"Yes," said Belisarius. "Who can mistrust such a look!"
"See, Belisarius! Never has a noble man had such a distrustful master as yours. The Emperor's last letter is the greatest offence to your fidelity."