the walls of the city. They meanwhile would set it on fire in
various quarters, as had been arranged, and begin a general massacre. He
was to intercept the fugitives, and thus effect a junction with his
friends within the walls.' I next brought the Gauls into the House.
Their story was as follows. 'Lentulus and two of his companions gave us
letters to our nation. We were instructed to send our cavalry into Italy
with all speed. They would find a force of infantry. Lentulus told us
how he had learned from Sibylline books that he was that "third
Cornelius" who was the fated ruler of Rome. The two that had gone before
him were Cicero and Sulla. The year too was the one which was destined
to see the ruin of the city, for it was the tenth after the acquittal of
the Vestal Virgins, the twentieth after the burning of the Capitol.
After this Cethegus and the others had a dispute about the time for
setting the city on fire. Lentulus and others wished to have it done on
the feast of Saturn (December 17th). Cethegus thought that this was
putting it off too long.' I then had the letter brought in. First I
showed Cethegus his seal. He acknowledged it. I cut the string. I read
the letter. It was written in his own handwriting and was to this
effect: he assured the Senate and people of the Gauls that he would do
what he had promised to their deputies, and begged them on the other
hand to perform what their deputies had undertaken. Cethegus, who had
accounted for the weapons found in his house by declaring that he had
always been a connoisseur in such things, was overwhelmed by hearing his
letter read, and said nothing.

"Manlius next acknowledged his seal and handwriting. A letter from him
much to the same effect was read. He confessed his guilt. I then showed
Lentulus his letter, and asked him, 'Do you acknowledge the seal?' 'I
do,' he answered. 'Yes,' said I, 'it is a well-known device, the
likeness of a great patriot, your grandfather. The mere sight of it
ought to have kept you from such a crime as this.' His letter was then
read. I then asked him whether he had any explanation to give. 'I have
nothing to say,' was his first answer. After a while he rose and put
some questions to the Gauls. They answered him without any hesitation,
and asked him in reply whether he had not spoken to them about the
Sibylline books. What followed was the strangest proof of the power of
conscience. He might have denied every thing, but he did what no