don't see how I could gain by it. I don't betray you because I would
despise myself if I did."

"I would despise myself if I should be untrue to Rome," Sextus answered
after a moment. "Commodus is not Rome. Neither is the mob Rome."

"What is then?" Narcissus asked. "The bricks and mortar? The marble
that the slaves must haul under the lash? The ponds where they feed
their lampreys on dead gladiators? The arena where a man salutes a
dummy emperor before a disguised one kills him? The senate, where they
buy and sell the consulates and praetorships and guaestorships? The
tribunals where justice goes by privilege? The temples where as many
gods as there are, Romans yell for sacrifices to enrich the priests?
The farms where the slave-gangs labor like poor old Sysyphus and are
sold off in their old age to the contractors who clear the latrines, or
to the galleys, or, if they're lucky, to the lime-kilns where they dry
up like sticks and die soon? There is a woman in a side-street near the
fish-market, who is very rich and looks like Rome to me. She has so
many gold rings on her fingers that you can't see the dirt underneath;
and she owns so many brothels and wine-shops that she can even buy off
the tax-collectors. Do I love her? Do I love Rome? No! I love you,
Sextus, son of Maximus, and I will go with you to the world's end if you
will lead the way."

"I love Rome," Sextus answered. "Possibly I want to see her liberties
restored because I love my own liberty and can't imagine myself
honorable unless Rome herself is honored first. When you and I are sick
we need a Galen. Rome needs Pertinax. You ask me what is Rome? She is
the cradle of my manhood."