Cornelius, who should be master of the world's mistress,
Rome.

The others were much younger men, for Lentulus was at that period already
past his prime, and these--two more especially who looked mere boys--had
scarcely reached youth's threshold; though their pale withered faces, and
brows seared deeply by the scorching brand of evil passions, showed that
in vice at least, if not in years, they had lived long already.

Those two were senators in their full garniture, the sons of Servius
Sylla, both beautiful almost as women, with soft and feminine features,
and long curled hair, and lips of coral, from which in flippant and
affected accents fell words, and breathed desires, that would have made
the blood stop and turn stagnant at the heart of any one, not utterly
polluted and devoid of every humane feeling.

This little knot seemed fierce for action, fiery and panting with that
wolfish thirst, to quench which blood must flow. But all the rest seemed
dumb, and tongue-tied, and crest-fallen. The sullenness of fear brooded on
every other face. The torpor of despairing crime, already in its own fancy
baffled and detected, had fallen on every other heart. For, at the farther
end of the room, whispering to his trembling hearers dubious and dark
suspicions, with terror on his tongue, stood Cassius, exaggerating the
adventures of the night.

Such was the scene, when Cataline stalked into that bad conclave. The
fires of hell itself could send forth no more blasting glare, than shot
from his dark eyes, as he beheld, and read at half a glance their
consternation. Bitter and blighting was the sneer upon his lip, as he
stood motionless, gazing upon them for a little space. Then flinging his
arm on high and striding to the table he dashed his hand upon it, that it
rang and quivered to the blow.

"What are ye?" he said slowly, in tones that thrilled to every heart, so
piercing was their emphasis. "Men?--No, by the Gods! men rush on death for
glory!--Women? They risk it, for their own, their children's, or their
lover's safety!--Slaves?--Nay! even these things welcome it for freedom, or
meet it with revenge! Less then, than men! than women, slaves, or
beasts!--Perish like cattle, if ye will, unbound but unresisting, all armed
but unavenged!--And ye--great Gods! I laugh to see your terror-blanched,
blank visages. I laugh, but loathe in laughing! The destined dauntless
sacrificers, who would imbue your knives in senatorial, consular