“Friend,” said he, “thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my way.”
Thus speaking, he drove into the man’s breast to the hilt the short sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm of Vinicius, he continued as if nothing had happened,—
“Cæsar said to-day, ‘Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which Christians will appear.’ Dost understand what that means? They wish to make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair. Perhaps that is why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art not able to get her at once—I do not know—Acte might take thy part; but can she effect anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might tempt Tigellinus. Make the trial.”
“I will give him all that I have,” answered Vinicius.
From the Carinæ to the Forum was not very far; hence they arrived soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the castle came out definitely from the shadow.
Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius stopped, and said,
“Pretorians! Too late!”
In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their javelins.
Vinicius grew as pale as marble. “Let us go on,” said he.
After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an uncommon memory, Petronius knew not only the officers, but nearly all the pretorian soldiers. Soon he saw an acquaintance, a leader of a cohort, and nodded to him.