confidence in this court of final appeal was
restored. Then he began to scan the features of the consulars, and his
heart sank. There was Lucius Calpurnius Piso, with the visage of a
philosopher, but within mere moral turpitude. There was Favonius;
there were the two sanguinary Marcelli, consuls respectively for the
two preceding years; there was Domitius; there was Cato, his hard face
illumined doubtless by the near realization of unholy hopes; there was
Faustus Sulla, another bitter oligarch. Drusus saw them all, and knew
that the Caesarian cause had been doomed without a hearing. Caius
Marcellus, the new consul, sat in his separate seat, in all the
splendid dignity of his embroidered toga. Around him stood his twelve
lictors. But Lentulus, at whose behest the Senate had been convened,
and who was to act as its president, had not come. Drusus followed
Antonius over to the farther side of the house, where on a long, low
bench[137] the other tribunes of the plebs were seated. Quintus
Cassius was already there. The other tribunes darted angry glances at
their newly arrived colleague. Drusus remained standing behind
Antonius, ready to act as a body-guard, as much as to serve in mere
official capacity. Even as they entered he had noticed a buzz and
rustle pass along the tiers of seats, and whisper pass on whisper,
"There come the Caesarians!" "What treason is in that letter!" "We must
have an end of their impudence!" And Drusus ran his eye over the whole
company, and sought for one friendly look; but he met with only stony
glances or dark frowns. There was justice neither in the people nor in
the Senate. Their hearts were drunk with a sense of revenge and
self-willed passion; and Justice literally weighed out her bounty with
blinded eyes.

[137] _Subsellium_.

There was another hum and rustle. And into the hall swept Lentulus
Crus, in robes of office, with Scipio, the father-in-law of Pompeius,
at his side. Before him strode his twelve lictors bearing their fasces
erect. Not a word was spoken while Lentulus Crus seated himself in the
ivory curule chair of office. No sign marked the extreme gravity of
the occasion.

"Let the sacred chickens be brought," said Lentulus.

Never a lip twitched or curled in all that august multitude while
several public attendants brought in a wooden cage containing three or
four rather skinny specimens of poultry. Not even Drusus saw anything
really ridiculous when Lentulus arose, took