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"Silence, Hortensius!" admonished Ancyrus, the elder. "Nay, I'll not be silent!" retorted the young man, who seemed at last to have lost all control over his jealous passion. His eyes, in which gleamed the fire of intense hate, swept from the face of his enemy to that of his friends whom they challenged.
I am but a lonely woman who hath need of counsel to guide her in this supreme moment of her life." "Are we not here to guide thee?" came in dulcet tones from Ancyrus, the elder; "we, thy faithful servants, thy obedient slaves? Have we not spoken and counselled thee?" "Aye! you have spoken, my lords, and I have read the thoughts that lie behind your words.
Only Marcus Ancyrus remained grave and thoughtful, and now he said: "Dost perchance speak of Dea Flavia Augusta?" "Even of her," replied Hortensius. Involuntarily at the name, the voice of the older man had assumed a respectful tone, and all around the vulgar sneers and bitter mockery had died away as if by magic contact with something hallowed and pure.
He carved with quickness and dexterity, placing well-chosen morsels on the plates of massive gold which young waiting-maids then carried to the guests. "Wilt dismiss thy slaves before we talk?" asked Marcus Ancyrus, the veteran in this small crowd. He himself had been silent for the past ten minutes, doing full justice to this second relay of Caius Nepos' hospitality.
"Methinks that thou art right, O Hortensius," added Ancyrus, who had taken upon himself the rôle of a wise and prudent counsellor, "and moreover he will be rich by virtue of the wealth which the Augusta will have as her marriage portion; her money, merged with the State funds, would be of vast benefit to the land."
These sybarites too were not averse to the thought of a rich table and of merry-making in the Augusta's house until the morrow. Her cooks were noted for their skill and hers were the richest cellars in Rome. Caius Nepos, Ancyrus, the elder, and the others all walked out of Dea Flavia's presence backwards and with spine bent at an obsequious angle. Hortensius Martius was the last to leave.
Raising himself to a more upright position, Marcus Ancyrus the elder, goblet in hand, looked round for approval on all the guests. The murmur of acquiescence was well-nigh general, and many there were who held their goblets to the waiting-maids in order to have them filled and then drained them to the last dregs.
"Wouldst thou then suggest, O Hortensius Martius," quoth Marcus Ancyrus, the elder, after a slight pause, "that the Augusta's husband be made Emperor of Rome?" "Why not?" retorted the other simply. "It is not a bad notion," mused young Escanes, who thought himself high in the favour of Dea Flavia.
I remember, my lord," she said quietly, "there is a rumour that he died soon after he had saved thy life." Then as Hortensius Martius, feeling the sting of the rebuke, bit his under lip to check an angry retort, Ancyrus, the elder, rejoined suavely, trying to pour the oil of his honeyed words on the troubled water of the younger man's wrath.
"And it should at once be followed by another," said Marcus Ancyrus, the elder, "by 'Hail to thee, O mighty Cæsar!" "'Tis thou shouldst raise that cry, O Caius Nepos," said Hortensius with a sarcastic curl of his lip. "Oh! as to that " began the other with some hesitation.
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