word of praise for me. He loved Julia; so did I." And the Magnus
paused a moment, overcome by the thought of his dead wife. "Perhaps
the Republic demands his sacrifice, perhaps--" and he cast a glance
half of menace upon Lentulus Crus and Cato, "you are the guilty, not
he. But I am in grievous doubt."

"Perhaps, Magnus," said Favonius, with half a sneer, "you think your
forces inadequate. The two legions at Luceria are just detached from
Cæsar. Perhaps you question their fidelity."

"Man," retorted the general, fiercely, bringing his foot down upon the
soft rug on the floor, "I have but to stamp upon the ground to call up
legions out of Italy; it is not that which I fear!"

The members of the conference looked uneasy; there was still a bare
chance that Pompeius would go back to his old friendship with Cæsar.

"Gentlemen," went on the Magnus, "I have called you here to reach a
final decision--peace or war. Let us consult a higher power than
human." And he touched a little silver bell that was upon the table
close at hand.

Forthwith there was a rustle of curtains, and out of the gloom of the
doorway--for the hour was now very late--advanced a tall, gaunt
figure, dressed in a plain, sleeveless robe that fell to the feet. The
skin was dry, hard, wrinkled by a hundred furrows; the bones of the
face were thrust out prominently; on the head was a plain white
turban, and a beard quite as white fell down upon the breast. Only
from under the turban shone the eyes, which were bright and piercing
as coals of fire.