Antonius knew his own interests enough to keep quiet; besides, his friend's pain cut him to the heart, and he knew himself that Drusus's dread was justified under the circumstances.
"Do you think there will be a battle to-morrow ?" demanded Drusus, after some interval of gloomy silence.
"I would to the gods it might be so," was his answer; "are you thirsting for blood ?" Drusus half drew his short sword, which even in camp never left the side of officer or private during that campaign.
"Thirst for blood ?" he growled.

"Yes, for the lives of Lucius Lentulus, and Domitius and his accursed younger son.

I am hot as an old gladiator for a chance to spill their blood! If Cornelia suffers woe unutterable, it will be they--they who brought the evil upon her! It may not be a philosophic mood, but all the animal has risen within me, and rises more and more the longer I think upon them and on _her_." "Come," said Antonius, lifting his friend by the arm, "and let us lie down in the tent.

There will be toil enough to-morrow; and we must take what rest we may." II On that same night, in a very sumptuous tent, fresh from an ample dinner and a season over choice wines, the high and the mighty of Caesar's enemies were taking counsel together.

No longer were they despairing, panic-stricken fugitives, driven from their native land which they had abandoned a prey to the invader.