This is the fifth year--I had to condemn her, for she sent assassins against me; and, had I not been quicker than she, ye would not be listening to-night to my song." "Thanks be to Caesar, in the name of the city and the world!" cried Domitius Afer.
"Wine! and let them strike the tympans!" The uproar began anew.

Lucan, all in ivy, wishing to outshout him, rose and cried,--"I am not a man, but a faun; and I dwell in the forest.
Eho-o-o-oo!" Caesar drank himself drunk at last; men were drunk, and women were drunk.

Vinicius was not less drunk than others; and in addition there was roused in him, besides desire, a wish to quarrel, which happened always when he passed the measure.

His dark face became paler, and his tongue stuttered when he spoke, in a voice now loud and commanding,--"Give me thy lips! To-day, to-morrow, it is all one! Enough of this! "Caesar took thee from Aulus to give thee to me, dost understand?
To-morrow, about dusk, I will send for thee, dost understand?
Caesar promised thee to me before he took thee.

Thou must be mine! Give me thy lips! I will not wait for to-morrow,--give thy lips quickly." And he moved to embrace her; but Acte began to defend her, and she defended herself with the remnant of her strength, for she felt that she was perishing.