. The
sick and wounded are nursed."--"And he gives them guides to the
coast towns."--"And sometimes he even pays for their passage in
merchant-ships to the East."--"Look, the Prefect dismounts!"

"He looks like Pluto!"

"He is no longer Princeps Senatus, but Princeps Inferorum."

"Look at his eyes! As cold as ice, and yet like red-hot arrows."

"Yes, my godmother is right; she says that only those who have no heart
can look like that."

"That is an old tale. Spectres and Lemures have eaten his heart in the
night."

"Ah, bah! There are no Lemures. But there is a devil, for it says so in
the Bible. And the Prefect has sold himself to the devil. The Numidian
who is holding his black horse by the bridle is an imp from hell, who
always accompanies him. Nothing can hurt the Prefect. He feels neither
hunger nor thirst nor the want of sleep. But he can never smile, for he
has sold his soul!"

"How do you know?"

"The deacon of St. Paul's has explained it all. And it is a sin to
serve such a man any longer. Did he not betray our Bishop, Silverius,
to the Emperor, and send him over the sea in chains?"

"And lately he accused sixty priests, Orthodox and Arian, of treason,
and banished them from the city."

"That is true!"

"And he must have promised the devil that he would torment the Romans."

"But we will endure it no longer. We are free! He himself has often
told us so. I will ask him by what right----"

But the bold speaker stopped short, for the Prefect glanced at the
murmuring group as he mounted the rostrum.

"Quirites," he began, "I call upon you all to become legionaries.
Famine and treachery--a shameful thing to say of Romans!--have thinned
the ranks of our defenders. Do you hear the sound of hammers? A
crucifix is being erected to punish all deserters. Rome demands still
greater sacrifices from her citizens, for _they_ have no choice. The
citizens of other towns choose between surrender or destruction. We,
who have grown up in the shadow of the Capitol, have no choice; for
more than a thousand years of heroism sanctify this place. Here no
coward thought dare arise. You cannot again endure to see the
barbarians tie their horses to the columns of Trajan. We must make a
last effort. The marrow of heroism ripens early in the descendants of
Romulus and Caesar; and late is spent the strength of the men who drink
of the waters of the Tiber. I call upon all boys from their twelfth,
all men until their eightie