"I go, Petreius!" and bowing his head, till his crimson crest mingled with his charger's mane, he spurred furiously to the rear, and had delivered his message and returned, while the shouts, with which the reserve had greeted the command to charge, were yet ringing in the air.
When he returned, the general had dismounted, and one of his freedmen was unbuckling the spurs from his steel greaves. His sword was out, and it was evident that he was about to lead the last onset in person.
"A boon, noble Petreius!" cried the youth, leaping from his horse—"By all the Gods! By all your hopes of glory! grant me one boon, Petreius."
"Ha! what?" returned the general quickly—"Speak out, be brief—what boon?"
"Be it mine to head the charge!"
"Art thou so greedy of fame, boy; or so athirst to die!"
"So greedy of Revenge, Petreius. I have a vow in Heaven, and in Hell, to slay that parricide. If he should die by any hand but mine, I am forsworn and infamous!"
"Thou, boy, and to slay Catiline!"
"Even I, Petreius."
"Thou art mad to say it."