than send more men to join
him. That is a very handsome dagger," he broke off, interrupting himself
suddenly--"where did you get it? I should like much to get me such an one
to give to my friend Cethegus, who has a taste for such things. I wonder,
however, at your wearing it so openly."

Taken completely by surprise, Arvina answered hastily, "I found it last
night; and I wear it, hoping to find the owner."

"By Hercules!" said the conspirator laughing; "I would not take so much
pains, were I you. But, do you hear, I have partly a mind myself to claim
it."

"No! you were better not," said Paullus, gravely; "besides, you can get
one just like this, without risking any thing. Volero, the cutler, in the
Sacred Way, near Vesta's temple, has one precisely like to this for sale.
He made this too, he tells me; though he will not tell me to whom he sold
it; but that shall soon be got out of him, notwithstanding."

"Ha! are you so anxious in the matter? it would oblige you, then, if I
should confess myself the loser! Well, I don't want to buy another; I want
this very one. I believe I must claim it."

He spoke with an emphasis so singular; impressive, and at the same time
half-derisive, and with so strangely-meaning an expression, that Paullus
indeed scarcely knew what to think; but, in the mean time, he had
recovered his own self-possession, and merely answered--

"I think you had better not; it would perhaps be dangerous!"

"Dangerous? Ha! that is another motive. I love danger! verily, I believe I
must; yes! I must claim it."

"What!" exclaimed Paullus, turning pale from excitement; "Is it yours? Do
you say that it is yours?"

"Look! look!" exclaimed Catiline, springing to his feet; "here they come,
here they come now; this is the last round. By the gods! but they are
gallant horses, and well matched! See how the bay courser stretches
himself, and how quickly he gathers! The bay! the bay has it for five
hundred sesterces!"

"I wager you," said a dissolute-looking long-haired youth; "I wager you
five hundred, Catiline. I say the gray horse wins."

"Be it so, then," shouted Catiline; "the bay, the bay! spur, spur,
Aristius Fuscus, Aurelius gains on you; spur, spur!"

"The gray, the gray! There is not a horse in Rome can touch Aurelius
Victor's gray South-wind!" replied the other.

And in truth, Victor's Gallic courser repaid his master's vaunts; for he
made, though he had seemed beat, so desperate a rally, that he