“Against this I have naught to advance,” said the prefect.
But one standing by whispered him: “Those cakes are not to be trusted. I have heard of one who ate and fell down in convulsions after eating.”
“That is a matter between the god and Æmilius Varo. I have done my duty.”
Then the confraternity of the Cultores Nemausi spread itself so as to encircle the place and include Æmilius, barring every passage. He might, doubtless, have escaped had he taken to his heels at the first summons of the club to congregate, but he had desired to occupy the attention of the people as long as possible, and it did not comport with his self-respect to run from danger.
Throwing over him the toga which he had cast aside when he leaped into the pond, he thrust one hand into his bosom and leisurely strode through the crowd, waving them aside with the other hand, till he stopped by the living barrier of the worshippers of Nemausus.
“You cannot pass, sir,” said the captain of that [pg 42]party which intercepted his exit. “The chief priestess hath ordered that thou appear before the god in his cella and then do worship and submit thyself to his will.”
“And how is that will to be declared?” asked the young man, jestingly.
“Sir! thou must eat one of the dedicated placenta.”
“I have heard of these same cakes and have no stomach for them.”
“Nevertheless eat thou must.”