"Now," he went on, waving them about in a half-drunken fashion, "this General Olaf of yours says that these are the same figs which were sent to the Caesar, I mean the blind priest, Father Nicephorus.

Don't you, Olaf ?" "Yes, Sire," I answered, "they were placed in that bottle in my presence and sealed with my seal." "Well, those figs were sent by me, and this Olaf tells us they are poisoned.

I'll show him, and you too, mother, that they are _not_ poisoned, for I will eat one of them." Now I looked at the Augusta, but she sat silent, her arms folded on her white bosom, her handsome face turned as it were to stone.
Constantine lifted the fig towards his loose mouth.

Again I looked at the Augusta.

Still she sat there like a statue, and it came into my mind that it was her purpose to allow this wine-bemused man to eat the fig.
Then I acted.
"Augustus," I said, "you must not touch that fruit," and stepping forward I took it from his hand.
He sprang to his feet and began to revile me.
"You watch-dog of the North!" he shouted.