he highest
blood in Rome; the lawful consuls by the suffrage of the people? Was I,
the heir of Sergius Silo's glory, the less forbidden even to canvass for
the consulship, that my great grandsire's blood was poured out, like
water, upon those fields that witnessed Rome's extremest peril, Trebia,
and the Ticinus, and Thrasymene and Cannae? Was Lentulus, the noblest of
the noble, patrician of the eldest houses, a consular himself, expelled
the less and stricken from the rolls of the degenerate senate, for the
mere whining of a mawkish wench, because his name is Cornelius? Tush,
Tush! these be but dreams of poets, or imaginings of children!--the commons
be but slaves to the nobles; the nobles to the senate; the senate to their
creditors, their purchasers, their consuls; the last at once their tools,
and their tyrants! Go, young man, go. Salute, cringe, fawn upon your
consul! Nathless, for thou hast mind enough to mark and note the truth of
what I tell thee; thou wilt think upon this, and perchance one day, when
the time shall have come, wilt speak, act, strike, for freedom!"

And as he finished speaking, he turned aside with a haughty gesture of
farewell; and wrapping his toga closely about his tall person, stalked
away slowly in the direction neither of the capitol nor of the consul's
house; turning his head neither to the right hand nor to the left; and
taking no more notice of the person to whom he had been speaking, than if
he had not known him to be there, and gazing toward him half-bewildered in
anxiety and wonder!

"Wonderful! by the Gods!" he said at last. "Truly he is a wonderful man,
and wise withal! I fain would know if all that be true, which they say of
him--his bitterness, his impiety, his blood-thirstiness! By Hercules! he
speaks well! and it is _true_ likewise. Yea! true it is, that we,
patricians, and free, as we style ourselves, may not speak any thing, or
act, against our order; no! nor indulge our private pleasures, for fear of
the proud censors! Is this, then, freedom? True, we are lords abroad; our
fleets, our hosts, everywhere victorious; and not one land, wherein the
eagle has unfurled her pinion, but bows before the majesty of Rome--but
yet--is it, is it, indeed, true, that we are but slaves, sovereign slaves,
at home?"

The whole tenor of the young man's thoughts was altered by the few words,
let fall for that very purpose by the arch traitor. Ever espying whom he
might attach to his party by op