"Hush!" exclaimed Marcia. "Listen! Gods! He is up off the bed! He will be in here in a minute! Pertinax!"
Alarm subsided. They could hear the thud and creak as Commodus threw himself back on the bed—then writhing again and groans of agony. Between the spasms Commodus began to frame connected sentences:
"Guards! Your emperor is being murdered! Rescue your Commodus!"
"He is recovering," said Galen.
"Give me your dagger!" said Marcia and clutched at Pertinax' tunic, feeling for it.
But she was not even strong enough to resist the half-contemptuous shrug with which Pertinax thrust her away.
"You disgust me. There is neither dignity nor decency in this," he muttered. "Nothing but evil can come of it."
"Whose was the star that fell?" asked Galen.
There came more noise from the bedroom. Commodus seemed to be trying to get to his feet again. Marcia ran toward the smaller anteroom and dragged the curtains back.
"Narcissus!"