as one of those which, once seen, are never
again forgotten. His thick and still glossy black hair was cut short,
after Roman fashion, round his lofty, almost too prominent forehead and
nobly-formed temples. Deep under his finely-arched brows were hidden
his narrow eyes, in whose undecided dark-grey colour lay a whole ocean
of sunken passions and a still more pronounced expression of the
coolest self-control. Round his sharply cut and beardless lips lurked a
trait of proud contempt of God and His whole creation.

As he stepped forward, and, with quiet distinction, allowed his eyes to
wander over the excited assembly; as he commenced his insinuating yet
commanding speech, every one felt his superiority, and few could remain
in his presence without a consciousness of subordination.

"Why do you wrangle," he said coldly, "about things that must be done?
Who wills the end, must will the means. You will not forgive? As you
please! That is of little consequence. But you must and you can forget.
I also was a friend of the dead, perhaps their dearest. And yet--I
will forget. I do so just because I was their friend. _He_ loves
them, Scaevola, and he alone, who avenges them. For the sake of
revenge---- Albinus, your hand!"

All were silent, awed more by the personality than convinced by the
reasons of the speaker.

But the jurist still objected:

"Rusticiana, the influential woman, the widow of Boethius, the daughter
of Symmachus, is favourable to our league. Will she remain so if this
man enters it? Can she ever forget and forgive? Never!"

"She can. Do not believe me, believe your eyes."

With these words Cethegus quickly turned and entered one of the
side-passages, whose opening had been hidden until now by his own
person.

Close to the entrance a veiled figure stood listening; he caught her
hand:

"Come," whispered he, "come now."

"I cannot! I will not!" was the almost inaudible answer of the
resisting woman. "I curse him! I cannot look at him, the wretch!"

"It must be. Come; you can and you shall--for I will have it so." He
threw back her veil; one look, and she followed as if deprived of the
power of will.

They turned the corner of the entrance:

"Rusticiana!" cried the whole assembly.

"A woman in our meeting!" exclaimed the jurist. "It is against the
statutes, the laws."

"Yes, Scaevola; but the laws are made for the league, not the league for
the laws. And you would never have believed from _me_, t