rage of the parricide is averted, or his
thirst for the blood of Romans quenched forever.

"No, Fathers, he hath but deferred the day; and even now he hath
determined on another. The fifth before the calends! Await that day in
quiet, and ye will never rue your apathy. For none of you shall live to
rue it, save those who now smile grimly, conscious of their own desperate
resolve, expectant of your apathy.

"Nor is his villainy all told, even now; for so securely and so wisely has
he laid his plans, that, had not the great Gods interfered and granted it
to me to discover all, he must needs have succeeded! On the night of the
calends themselves he would have been the master of Praeneste, that rich
and inaccessible strong-hold, by a nocturnal escalade! That I myself have
already made impossible--the magistrates are warned, the free burghers
armed, and the castle garrisoned by true men, and impregnable.

"Do ye the like, Fathers and Conscript Senators, and Rome also shall be
safe, inaccessible, immortal. Give me the powers to save you, and I devote
my mind, my life. I am here ready to die at this instant--far worse than
death to a noble mind, ready to go hence, and be forgotten, if I may
rescue Rome from this unequalled peril!"

Again, he ceased speaking for a moment, and many thought that he had
concluded his oration; but in a second's space he resumed, in a tone more
spirited and fiery yet, his eyes almost flashing lightning, and his whole
frame appearing to expand, as he confronted the undaunted traitor.

"Dost thou not now see, Catiline, that in all things thou art my inferior?
Dost thou not feel thyself caught, detected like a thief? baffled?
defeated? beaten? and wilt thou not now lay down thine arms, thy rage, thy
hate, against this innocent republic? wilt thou not liberate me now from
great fear, great peril, and great odium?

"No! thou wilt not--the time hath flown! thou canst not repent--canst not
forgive, or be forgiven--the Gods have maddened thee to thy destruction--thy
crimes are full-blown, and ripening fast for harvest--earth is aweary of
thy guilt--Hades yawns to receive thee!

"Tremble, then, tremble! Yea! in the depths of thy secret soul--for all
thine eye glares more with hate than terror, and thy lip quivers, not with
remorse but rage--yea! thou dost tremble--for thou dost see, feel, know, thy
schemes, thy confederates, thyself, detected, frustrated, devoted to
destruction!

"Enough! It is for yo