s--you will not
believe me. I send you to Italy because I believe that you hate the
barbarians with all your heart. The second general, whom the imperial
distrust will undoubtedly send after you, shall be Areobindos. He will
not trouble you much! I am rejoiced that I can thus serve not only my
old companion but also the Empire. Ah, Cethegus, our youth! To you men
it is either golden hopes or golden memories: to a woman it is life
itself! Oh for a single day of the time when I sent you roses and you
sent me verses!"

"Your roses were beautiful, Theodora, but my verses were poor."

"They were fine to me, for they were addressed to me! My choice of you,
which is necessary for the Empire, is sweetened by old and new hate as
well as by old love. Belisarius must not rise to new honours. He must
fall, and this time fall low and for ever. As sure as I live!"

"And Narses? I should understand and like it better if you were to ruin
that head without an arm, than this arm without a head."

"Patience! One after the other."

"What has the good-natured hero done to you?"

"He? Nothing. But his wife! that clumsy Antonina, whose whole triumph
lies in her good health."

And the delicate Empress clenched her little white fist, the fingers of
which had become more transparent than ever.

"Ah," she exclaimed, "how I hate her! Yes, and I envy her too! Stupid
people are always healthy. But she shall not rejoice while I suffer!"

"And the fate of the Capitol depends upon such a woman's hatred!"
exclaimed Cethegus to himself. "Down with Cleopatra!"

"The foolish woman is in love with her husband's honour and glory.
There I can wound her fatally!" continued Theodora.

As she spoke the twitching of her delicate features betrayed an attack
of acute pain; she threw herself back upon her cushions.

"My little dove," said Galatea, "do not be angry. Thou knowest what the
Persian said. Every excitement, be it of love or of hate----"

"Yes. To hate and to love is life! And as one grows older, hatred is
almost sweeter than love. Love is false; hate is true."

"In both," said Cethegus, "I am a novice compared to you. I have always
called you the Siren of Cyprus. One can never be sure that you will not
suddenly tear your victim in the very act of embracing him--either from
love, or from hate. And what has suddenly changed your love of Antonina
into hatred?"

"She has become virtuous, the hypocrite! Or can she be really so
weak-minded? It