thus engage that unconquered
monster in single combat! An even chance of life is given you! And
I--even I your Caesar--will give unto the victor the hand of the Augusta
Dea Flavia in marriage!"

Even before his last words had echoed along the marble walls, deafening
cries and cheers rent the air. Men shouted, women screamed and waved
their fans, mantles were torn from every shoulder and swung overhead
like flags.

"Hail to Caesar! Hail to the best and greatest of Caesars! Hail to the
Augusta! Dea Flavia, hail!"

The shouts were incessant, even whilst Caligula, delighted with his
oratory, exultant over the success of his plan, stood there trembling in
every limb, with moist, purple face turned from right to left to receive
the acclamations of his people. His tiny eyes blinked with the glare
that struck fully at them from opposite, his throat was parched with
screaming, his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth.

Excitement was overmastering him; the effort to appear outwardly sane
and calm was too severe a tax upon his raging temper. The heat, too, no
doubt turned him giddy, for suddenly, even whilst the cries of "Hail!"
buzzed in his ears, he threw up his arms and tottered backwards, rigid
as a log, whilst drops of foam gathered at the corners of his mouth.

It was Taurus Antinor who received the swooning Caesar in his strong
arms. Everyone else around was too excited to move. The Augustas,
inwardly consumed with jealousy, were striving to keep up an appearance
of dignity in the face of the insult which they deemed had been put upon
them by this semi-deification of their kinswoman.

Dea Flavia, pale and silent, stood facing the people, with eyes that
seemed to look on something unearthly far away. Her white robes,
shimmering with precious stones, fell round her like a shroud, her lips
were parted as with a cry that had died even before it had found birth
in her throat. The public thought that she looked proud, and acclaimed
her because of this strange aloofness which seemed to envelop her whole
person. She did not look of this world at all. Even the eyes appeared
sightless and dead.

When the Caesar fell back, half fainting, she seemed to wake from her
dream, a shudder went right through her as her eyes slowly turned from
their vacant gaze to the prostrate figure of this inhuman monster, lying
stricken like a felled brute, in the arms of the praefect of Rome.

Once again, and for the third time to-d