Most men have more or less the passion for power; in Arbaces that passion corresponded exactly to his character.  It was not the passion for an external and brute authority.  He desired not the purple and the fasces, the insignia of vulgar command.  His youthful ambition once foiled and defeated, scorn had supplied its place—­his pride, his contempt for Rome—­Rome, which had become the synonym of the world (Rome, whose haughty name he regarded with the same disdain as that which Rome herself lavished upon the barbarian), did not permit him to aspire to sway over others, for that would render him at once the tool or creature of the emperor.  He, the Son of the Great Race of Rameses—­he execute the orders of, and receive his power from, another!—­the mere notion filled him with rage.  But in rejecting an ambition that coveted nominal distinctions, he but indulged the more in the ambition to rule the heart.  Honoring mental power as the greatest of earthly gifts, he loved to feel that power palpably in himself, by extending it over all whom he encountered.  Thus had he ever sought the young—­thus had he ever fascinated and controlled them.  He loved to find subjects in men’s souls—­to rule over an invisible and immaterial empire!—­had he been less sensual and less wealthy, he might have sought to become the founder of a new religion.  As it was, his energies were checked by his pleasures.  Besides, however, the vague love of this moral sway (vanity so dear to sages!) he was influenced by a singular and dreamlike devotion to all that belonged to the mystic Land his ancestors had swayed.  Although he disbelieved in her deities, he believed in the allegories they represented (or rather he interpreted those allegories anew).  He loved to keep alive the worship of Egypt, because he thus maintained the shadow and the recollection of her power.  He loaded, therefore, the altars of Osiris and of Isis with regal donations, and was ever anxious to dignify their priesthood by new and wealthy converts.  The vow taken—­the priesthood embraced—­he usually chose the comrades of his pleasures from those whom he made his victims, partly because he thus secured to himself their secrecy—­partly because he thus yet more confirmed to himself his peculiar power.  Hence the motives of his conduct to Apaecides, strengthened as these were, in that instance, by his passion for Ione.

He had seldom lived long in one place; but as he grew older, he grew more wearied of the excitement of new scenes, and he had sojourned among the delightful cities of Campania for a period which surprised even himself.  In fact, his pride somewhat crippled his choice of residence.  His unsuccessful conspiracy excluded him from those burning climes which he deemed of right his own hereditary possession, and which now cowered, supine and sunken, under the wings of the Roman eagle.  Rome herself was hateful to his indignant soul; nor did he love to find his riches rivalled by the minions of the court, and cast into