"Ha! my Cæparius!" exclaimed Lentulus, who had not seen him since the morning of his arrest. "We have met again. But I slept my sleep out. Thou might'st as well have slept too; for we are both met here"—
"To die! to die! Great Gods! to die!" cried Cæparius utterly overcome, and almost fainting with despair.
"Great Gods indeed!" replied Lentulus with his accustomed half-sardonic, half-indolent sneer. "They must be great, indeed, to let such a puppet as that," and he pointed to Cicero, as he spoke, "do as he will with us. To die! to die! Tush—what is that but to sleep? to sleep without the trouble of awaking, or the annoyance of to-morrow? What sayest thou, my Cethegus?"
"That thou art a sluggard, a fool, and a coward; curses! curses! curses upon thee!" And he made an effort to rush against his comrade, as if to strike him; and, when the guards seized him and dragged him back, he shook his fist at Cicero, and gnashed his teeth, and howling out, "Thou too! thou too shalt die proscribed, and thy country's foe!" by a sudden effort cast off the men who held him, and crying, "Slaves and dastards, see how a Roman noble dies," rushed, with his head down, at the solid wall, as a buffalo rushes blindly against an elephant.
He fell as if he were dead, the blood gushing from eyes, nose, and mouth, and lay senseless.
Lentulus thought he was killed, gazed on him for a moment tranquilly, and then said with a quiet laugh—
"He was a fool always—a rash fool!" Then turning to Cicero, he added—"By Hercules! this is slow work. I am exceeding hungry, and somewhat dry; and, as I fancy I shall eat nothing more to-day, nor drink, I would fain go to sleep."
"Would'st thou drink, Lentulus?" asked one of the Triumvirs.
"Would I not, had I wine?"
"Bring wine," said the magistrate to one of the Moorish slaves; who went out and returned in an instant with a large brazen platter supporting several goblets.