Then he summoned his lecticarii and set out for the palace of the plotter.
Manius approached him, a kindly greeting on his lips.
"Liar!" Vergilius interrupted, his hand upon his sword.

"Speak no word of kindness to me!" "What mean you, son of Varro ?" the other demanded.
"That, with me, you have not even the right of an enemy.

You are a deadly serpent, born to creep and hide.

Shame upon you--murderer! If there be many like you, what--God tell me!--what shall be the fate of Rome ?" Vergilius stepped away, and, lifting his hands, gave the other a look of unspeakable scorn.

Manius made no reply, but stood as still and white as marble, with sword in hand.
"It was I who sat beside you that night," said the other, his voice aglow with feeling.