"How now?" exclaimed Lentulus, who fully aroused by this time, was sitting on the edge of the low bedstead, with a purple gown cast carelessly around him, "what is this new disturbance."
"The Atrium is full of armed soldiers, Lentulus," replied the man with a faltering accent.
"Well! hast thou never seen a soldier before, that thou starest so wildly?" asked his master with a sneer, which even the extremity of danger could not restrain.
"Their leader insists on present speech with thee. I told him that thou wert asleep; but he replied that, waking or asleep, he must have speech with thee."
"Truly a valiant leader," answered the Prætor. "Hath he a name, this bold centurion?"
"Paullus Cæcilius Arvina," replied the young man, who having followed the freedman to the door had overheard all that was passing, "is my name—no centurion, as thou mayest see, Lentulus. Loth am I to disturb thy slumbers."
"Then wherefore do it, youth?" asked Lentulus, quickly. "Most broken things may be repaired, but I know not how you shall mend a broken nap, or recompense the loss of it, if irreparable."
"Not of my own will, but by the Consul's order."
"The Consul's? What? Antonius? He scarce need have sent a troop of horse, to ask an old friend to breakfast!"
"Cicero sent me, Prætor, to crave your instant presence at his house, touching affairs of state."