“She has summoned you, the Augustus, the Chief Pontiff, the unjust Judge, to answer before the All-righteous Supreme Justice, above—before the scythe points to Twelve.”
Domitian answered not a word, he threw his mantle about his face and left the room.
He had left his tablets on the table.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE HOUR OF TWELVE.
For some moments Domitia remained without stirring. But then, roused by a glare of lightning, succeeded by a crash so loud as to shake the palace, she saw in the white blaze the tablets of the Emperor lying on the table.
At once, aware of the importance of what she had secured, she seized them, and went to the lamp to open them.
They consisted of thin citron-wood boards, framed and hinged on one side, the surfaces within covered with a film of wax, on which notes were inscribed with a stile or iron pen. There were stray leaves that served for correspondence, orders and so forth, but what Domitia now held was a diptych, that is to say, two leaves hinged, like a book-cover, which had included loose sheets and were bound together by strings.
She at once opened the diptych, and saw on the first page:—