Part 37 (1/2)

”Then, 'tis silence that I do enjoin on thee, Dion,” she said earnestly, ”silence as to the praefect's presence in my house, until I bid thee speak: on pain of death, Dion, for thou art still my slave.”

”I understand, gracious lady.”

”Then wait for me now and on peril of thy life allow no one to enter.”

But scarce had these words crossed her lips than there rose from the atrium behind her a series of weird sounds, cries, and imprecations, calls for the Augusta and curses on her slaves, as from one who is bereft of reason and screams in his madness.

”The Caesar!” she murmured, as white to the lips now, she stood rigid by the door whilst her hand fell from the latch.

”Augusta! Augusta!” came the hoa.r.s.e cries from the atrium, and the hideous, familiar sound of leather thongs whistling through the air reached her straining senses.

She put a finger to her lips, with a quick peremptory gesture to Dion, then she recrossed the studio with a firm step and the curtains of the inner door fell back behind her with a swish.

The next moment she was standing in the atrium facing Caligula, the Caesar.

CHAPTER XXVII

”How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!”--ISAIAH XIV. 12.

He had a score or so of his guard with him and they remained at some little distance, in a compact group, with their short, bronze-hilted swords naked in their hands.

Caligula was livid. He had donned a dark woollen robe and his head was uncovered. His knees, arms and hands were shaking and his mouth opened and closed as if he were gasping for breath. His eyes were bloodshot and staring out of his head like those of a man who is being strangled.

”Gracious Caesar!” exclaimed Dea Flavia as soon as she was before him, and with the instinct born of long usage, she bent the knee before him.

”They have trapped me,” he murmured inarticulately whilst weird choking sounds escaped his throat. ”They have trapped me, hast heard?”

”Alas!”

”The miscreants! the sacrilegious miscreants! the hideous monsters! the villainous reptiles! Aye! punishment will overtake them; they shall rue this day! All Rome shall rue this day: her streets shall flow with blood and I'll invent such tortures for every man as will turn the firmament red with horror ... I'll....”

His mouth was twitching convulsively and his hands clutched spasmodically at his throat. Dea Flavia had risen to her feet, she stood before this raging madman erect and calm, with eyes downcast, for the sight of him filled her with loathing.

Suddenly he ceased in his ravings; a loud crash as of crumbling walls had rent the air, followed by shrieks and loud hissing sounds and that perpetual cry, awesome in its weird monotony:

”Death to the Caesar! Death!”

Caligula's face was contorted with terror, his cheeks were grey like those of the dead. He made a quick movement forward and suddenly clutched Dea's wrist.

”Dost hear them?” he said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

And she nodded in response.

”They want to kill me ... they have set fire to my house ... I escaped through the crypta.... But they were hard on my heels....”

And as if to confirm his words, the cries of ”Death!” again rose in the air; the tramping of feet, the angry murmurs became more loud and appeared to be filling the street close by and tending toward the very door of Dea Flavia's house.

”Ah, monsters! miserable monsters!” shouted the Caesar, crazy with fear, ”to-morrow will come the awful reprisals ... to-morrow ...”