ough those in front saw no
sign of consul or lictor--saw only Sergius who had descended from his
litter and was leading his company in a vigorous attack--yet they were,
for the most part, only too glad to escape from the glaring eyes of
Titus Manlius and the broad sweep of his weapon. The old man was
puffing hard from the unwonted exertion when Sergius reached his side
through the fast-scattering assailants.

"The gods have punished my blasphemy with kindness," began Torquatus,
"in sending my Lord Paullus in such timely fashion."

"Say, rather, my father, in sending his name into the mind of one
Lucius Sergius," said Sergius, laughing.

For a moment the other frowned with a puzzled look; then his face
cleared, with as close an approach to a smile as it could wear.

"And our rescue is not due to the consul, then?" he asked, still slow
to fully grasp the ruse.

"To the consul's name and to the favouring cunning of Mercury," said
Sergius, bowing.

"Truly, you should command," exclaimed Torquatus. "A general so ready
in craft as you are might hope to match the African--and, by the gods!
no one else seems able to. Come, let us go on to my house."

Though harshly said, and in tones that one less acquainted with the
speaker might well have mistaken for sarcasm, Sergius knew that the
compliment was genuine. The aged patrician had turned and strode away,
as he finished speaking, and etiquette left to the younger man no
choice but to pay to the elder the reverence of his escort. That he
had asked what he might well have looked for as a matter of course, was
something of a condescension, according to the strict ceremoniousness
of the ancient usage; therefore Sergius hurried on and overtook him,
offering his litter, at which the other sniffed contemptuously.

"May the gods grant me to lie at rest by the Appian Way, before I
require such feet!" Then, as his sharp eyes noted the flush upon
Sergius' face, he added: "Fever, wounds, and death may pardon
effeminacy; and, truly, I would beg you to accompany me as you came,
were it not that a climb up the Palatine should bring new health to one
who could run ten miles with a broken shoulder. Believe me, my friend,
the dictator thought better of you than he spoke, and would have
regretted the axe. Jupiter grant that it be yours to justify his
opinion!"

No stimulant could have given such strength to the convalescent as did
these words, and from such a source. The dictato