y could not be executed! But then my mind was at rest. I said,
'Let these men die,' and no Nemesis has required their blood at my
hands. What profit these considerations? The Republic is nothing but a
name, without substance or reality. It is doomed to fall. Sulla was a
fool to abdicate the dictatorship. Why did he not establish a
despotism, and save us all this turmoil of politics? But Lentulus
Crus, Pompeius, Cato, Scipio--they are men with as much ambition, as
much love of life, as myself. The Republic will fall into their hands.
Why will it be worse off than in mine? Why shed rivers of blood? After
death one knows no regrets. If I were dead, what would it matter to me
if obloquy was imputed to my name, if my enemies triumphed, if the
world went to chaos over my grave. It would not mean so much as a
single evil dream in my perpetual slumber."

Caesar was no longer resting on the bank. He was pacing to and fro,
with rapid, nervous steps, crushing the dry twigs under his shoes,
pressing his hands together behind his back, knitting and unknitting
his fingers.

Drusus knew enough to be aware that he was present as a spectator of
that most terrible of all conflicts--a strong man's wrestle with his
own misgivings. To say something, to say anything, that would ease the
shock of the contest--that was the young man's compelling desire; but
he felt as helpless as though he, single handed, confronted ten
legions.

"But your friends, Imperator," he faltered, "think of them! They have
made sacrifices for you. They trust in you. Do not abandon them to
their enemies!"

Caesar stopped in his impetuous pacings.

"Look here," he exclaimed, almost fiercely, "you wish to be happy. You
are still very young; life is sweet. You have just forsaken wealth,
friends, love, because you have a fantastic attachment for my cause.
You will live to repent of your boyish decision. You will wish to win
back all you have lost. Well, I will give you the chance; do what I
tell you, and you shall ride into Rome the hero of Senate and people!
The consuls will be to you all smiles. Pompeius will canvass for you
if you desire to become a candidate for curule office before you reach
the legal age limit. Cicero will extol your name in an immortal
oration, in which he will laud your deed above the slaying of the
dangerous demagogue Maelius by Servilius Ahala. Will you do as I shall
bid you?"

Drusus's eyes had been riveted on those of the general. He sa