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Mesembrius had heard enough, and gave his daughter to none of these youths. He honoured the martyrs, but did not wish to find Sophronia's name among them. Not one of the rejected suitors saw her face. One day a sun-burned youth entered Mesembrius's dwelling.
"No one except myself is allowed to speak to him during his illness. He even gives his orders to the army through me alone." Mesembrius sniffed the air suspiciously. "Why does so strong a smell of musk and amber come from this tent?" "Why?" repeated Aper, his face blanching. "Why do you desire to know, Senator?"
"What?" retorted Mesembrius; "because you lie, Aper, when you say that Numerian issues his orders through you." "What? What do you mean?" shouted the soldiers who had gathered around the two. "I mean that Numerian is no longer living!" cried Mesembrius in ringing tones.
"You are a father, Mesembrius. I understand your grief, but do not share it." "You will become a husband, and then you will share it." "How can you expect me to hate, old friend, after you have rendered me happy? You talk of your wrath to a sleeper dreaming of his bliss, while your furious words disturb the stillness of the night.
"If you should see the splendid turnips I raise in my garden, you surely would not summon me to Rome. An old man like me interests himself only in his apricot slips." At this moment a messenger from the Capitol whispered to Pompeius: "Carinus has laid aside the purple in favor of his brother Numerian." Mesembrius sometimes heard so well that he caught the faintest murmur.
Mesembrius swung himself into the saddle at a bound, and led the infuriated populace against the armed cohort, which was scattered in a moment, and before reinforcements arrived to quell the tumult, the old patrician had disappeared and was never found.
"I charge you, publicly and plainly," said Mesembrius, "with having murdered Numerian and betrayed us to Carinus." "And we condemn you," roared the army with one voice. "And I execute the sentence," said Diocletian, stabbing with his own hand the prisoner sentenced by the troops.
One crowned you with garlands in the evening, another in the morning; you vowed fidelity to one by the sun, to another by the moon, and loyally kept your vow to every one? Very good, very noble! This is the joy of youth, Manlius! In my early years I was no better!" "But, Mesembrius, you gave me no time to speak; all that you are saying has nothing to do with me.
In the midst of this wrathful mood Marcius arrived with the order given to him by Manlius and, without knowing what had happened, he delivered his appointment to the new Cæsar. "Who is this?" asked Diocletian, turning to Mesembrius. "The Cæsar's barber." Diocletian turned smiling to the soldiers. "Friends!
"Why do you look so sad?" asked Manlius. "Do you know this ring? Do you know its owner!" "I know her," replied the old man in a hollow tone. "Speak, who is it?" "Who is it?" repeated Mesembrius with flashing eyes. "Who is it?
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