ately
silent--"O Justinian, let us not be deceived in you! You dare not let
that be wrung from you by defiance which you refused to humble
petitions! Must I remind you that once before your wife's advice, and
will, and courage, saved your honour? Have you forgotten the terrible
rebellion of the Nika? Have you forgotten how the united parties of the
Circus, of the frantic mob of Byzantium, attacked this house? The
flames arose, and the cry of 'Down with the tyrants!' rang in our ears.
All your councillors advised flight or compliance; all these reverend
bishops and wise senators, and even your generals; for Narses was away
in distant Asia, and Belisarius was shut up by the rebels in the palace
on the shore. All were in despair. Your wife Theodora was the only hero
by your side. If you had yielded or fled, your throne, your life, and
most certainly your honour, would have been lost. You hesitated. You
were inclined to fly. 'Remain, and die if need be,' I then said; 'but
die in the purple!' And you remained, and your courage saved you. You
awaited death upon your throne, with me at your side--and God sent
Belisarius to our relief! I speak the same now. Do not yield. Emperor
of the Romani--do not yield to the barbarians! Stand firm. Let the
ruins of the Golden Gate overwhelm you if the axe of the terrible Goth
can force it; but die an Emperor! This purple is stained by the
immeasurable insolence of these Germans. I throw it from me, and I
swear by the wisdom of God, never will I again resume it until the
Empire is rid of the Goths!"

And she tore off her mantle and threw it down upon the steps of the
throne. But then, greatly exhausted, she was on the point of sinking
back into her seat when Justinianus caught her in his arms and pressed
her to his bosom.

"Theodora," he cried, "my glorious wife! You need no purple on your
shoulders--your spirit is clothed in purple! You alone understand
Justinian. War, and destruction to the Goths!"

At this spectacle the trembling senators were overwhelmed with terror
and astonishment.

"Yes, wise fathers," cried the Emperor, turning to the assembly, "this
time you were too clever to be men. It is indeed an honour to be called
Constantine's successor, but it is no honour to be _your_ master! Our
enemies, I fear, are right; Constantine only planted here the dead
mummy of Rome, but the soul of Rome had already fled. Alas for the
Empire! Were it free or a republic, it would now have sun