The flush of triumph glowed upon his face, every feature was radiant with the pride of victory, his heart throbbed with joy.
"I have conquered!" he exclaimed, wild with delight, clapping his hands.
"But I, too, have conquered," said a bitter, terrible voice behind him, and the Cæsar felt an iron hand seize his arm and drag him into the tent.
Carinus, startled, glanced back and saw the gloomy face of Manlius, who was crushing his arm with one hand, and in the other held a drawn sword.
"What do you want?" asked the Imperator in alarm.
"Do you remember, Carinus, the girl who killed herself before your eyes to escape your embrace? That girl was my promised wife. Do you know what I want now?"
"Manlius, you are jesting. What do you want of me? Why do you terrify me?"
"I could have killed you often when, overpowered by drunkenness, you lay in a sound sleep, in the intoxication of your crimes, but I wished to await the moment when you were happy, when you had reached the summit of your renown, before I slew you."
"Mercy! Help!"
"No one can hear your call; the shouts of joy drown your whimpering. Do you hear the cries of triumph and the glorification of your name rising on all sides? Do you hear the universal cheer: 'Long live Carinus?'—Now, die, Carinus!"