He was interrupted by the entrance of the ostiarius, who announced a Gothic warrior.
The young Romans exchanged indignant looks.
"Let him in," said Cethegus, putting his writings into a casket.
There entered hastily a young man, clad in the brown mantle of the Gothic soldier, a Gothic helmet on his head, who threw himself on the Prefect's neck.
"Julius!" exclaimed Cethegus, coldly repulsing him. "Do we meet again thus? Have you, then, become a complete barbarian? How did you come to Rome?"
"My father, I accompanied Valeria, under Gothic protection. I come from smouldering Neapolis."
"Aha!" cried Cethegus. "Have you fought with your blond friend against Italy? That becomes a Roman well! Does it not, Lucius?"
"I have neither fought nor will fight in this unhappy war. Woe to those who have kindled it!"
Cethegus measured him with cold looks.
"It is beneath my dignity, and beyond my patience, to represent to a Roman the infamy of such sentiments. Alas! that my Julius should be such a renegade! Shame upon you, before these your compatriots! Look, Roman knights, here is a Roman without love of freedom, without anger against the barbarians!"