Julia Domna [turning to him]. O Caracalla,
Your daemon, the low voice of your own soul.
Caracalla. You cannot name the power....
[After a pause, with a deep inclination.
When least you hope,
Your prayer is heard. Lo, I extinguish strife
With Geta, in your presence meet him here,
Within your room; and we will give this palace
One hearth, one board, one audience-chamber, one
Glad-smiling Lar—;for we will be as one,
And rule as one. You shall embrace him even
Before my eyes. Go, fetch him out of exile;
Bring him to me.
Julia Domna. If from your soul you speak....
Caracalla. By Vesta’s Sacred Relics.
Julia Domna. You will meet him?
Caracalla. Within the hour.
Julia Domna. And will become as one?
Caracalla. Ay, as one son.
[Julia Domna, still keeping her eyes on
him, goes out.
The Syrian bitch, what guile!
[Calling to the soldiers in the anteroom
to order the murder of Geta.
Tarantus, heigh!