of perfection comes to an end to-day and we shall have"
His voice suddenly ceased.
Crassus gave an inarticulate grunt and then both were quiet.
IV
Mucia, listening intently, heard no footsteps nor any human movement, nor yet any stir of a tent-flap. Through the silence following the sudden hushing of the two voices she felt the presence of a third person in the next tent, rather than heard him enter it. She divined a mute interchange of keen glances.
Then Clodius spoke again.
"What brings you here, Caius," he said, in no tone of inquiry.
"Don't you dare to call me Caius," the new-comer rapped out, sharply. "Call me Caesar when you speak to me. You've no manner of pretension to any degree of intimacy that would justify your Caiusing me."
"All right Caesar," Clodius asserted easily. "No harm done."
"Harm enough," Caesar growled, "to be smirched with the stench of your effrontery, you nasty little tadpole. Keep your foul familiarities
