this matter? I mean Cicero."

"He knows it."

"That is to say, you told him. Aye! this morning, after I spoke with you.
I comprehend; and you shewed him the poniard. So! so! so! Well, give it to
me; I will tell you what to do, hereafter."

"I have it not with me, Sergius," he replied, thoroughly daunted and
dismayed.

"See that you meet me then, bringing it with you, at Egeria's cave, as
fools call it, in the valley of Muses, at the fourth hour of night
to-morrow. In the meantime, beware that you tell no man aught of this, nor
that the instrument was bought of Volero. Ha! dost thou hear me?"

"I hear, Catiline."

"And wilt obey?"

"And will obey."

"So shall it go well with thee, and we shall be fast friends forever. Good
repose to thee, good my Paullus."

"And Lucia?" he replied, but in a voice of inquiry; for all that he had
heard of the tremendous passions and vindictive fury of the conspirator,
flashed on his mind, and he fancied that he knew not what of vengeance
would fall on the head of the soft beauty.

"Hath played her part rarely!" answered the monster, as he dismissed him
from the door, which he opened with his own hand. "Be true, and you shall
see her when you will; betray us, and both you and she shall live in
agonies, that shall make you call upon death fifty times, ere he relieve
you."

And with a menacing gesture, he closed and barred the door behind him.

"Played her part rarely!" The words sank down into his soul with a
chilling weight, that seemed to crush every energy and hope. Played her
part! Then he was a dupe--the very dupe of the fiend's arch mock, to lip a
wanton, and believe her chaste--the dupe of a designing harlot; the sworn
tool and slave of a murderer--a monster, who had literally sold his own
child's honor. For all the world well knew, that, although Lucia passed
for his adopted daughter only, she was his natural offspring by Aurelia
Orestilla, before their impious marriage.

Well might he gnash his teeth, and beat his breast, and tear his dark hair
by handfulls from his head; well might he groan and curse.

But oh! the inconsistency of man! While he gave vent to all the anguish of
his rage in curses against her, the soft partner of his guilt, and at the
same time, its avenger; against the murderer and the traitor, now his
tyrant; he utterly forgot that his own dereliction, from the paths of
rectitude and honor, had led him into the dark toils, in which he now
seemed in