individuals who came and went.

"There are new proscriptions brewing," he remarked. "Some friends of
ours will not see sunrise. Well--I am in a mood to talk and I will not
be silenced."

"Better laugh then!" Norbanus advised. "The deadliest crime nowadays is
to have the appearance of being serious. None suspects a drunken or a
gay man."

Sextus, however, was at no pains to appear gay. He inherited the
moribund traditions that the older Cato had typified some centuries ago.
His young face had the sober, chiseled earnestness that had been
typically Roman in the sterner days of the Republic. He had blue-gray
eyes that challenged destiny, and curly brown hair, that suggested
flames as the westering sun brought out its redness. Such mirth as
haunted his rebellious lips was rather cynical than genial. There was
no weakness visible. He had a pugnacious neck and shoulders.

"I am the son of my father Maximus," he said, "and of my grandsire
Sextus, and of his father Maximus, and of my great-great-grandsire
Sextus. It offends my dignity that men should call a hog like Commodus
a god. I will not. I despise Rome for submission to him."

"Yet what else is there in the world except to be a Roman citizen?"
Norbanus asked.

"As for being, there is nothing else," said Sextus. "I would like to
speak of doing. It is what I do that answers what I am."