protector, he implied, no less than an open enemy.  And close after him followed Marcus Calidius and Marcus Rufus, two senators, who had at least the sagacity to perceive that it would not free the Commonwealth to crush Caesar, by flinging themselves into the arms of Pompeius.  “Let Pompeius go off to his Spanish province, to which he was accredited proconsul; it was but natural Caesar should think himself ill treated, seeing that two legions had been taken from him for Eastern service, and Pompeius was keeping these very troops close to Rome.”

For one moment it seemed to Drusus that wisdom and justice had not deserted the Senate of his native state.  The consuls were divided; two influential men were counselling moderation.  Surely the Senate would not push to extremities.  But he had not reckoned on the spell which the malevolent spirit of Lentulus had cast over the assembly.  In bitter words the presiding consul refused to put Calidius’s proposal to a vote, and then, turning directly upon his colleague before the face of the whole multitude, he poured out reproof and vituperation.  Marcellus turned red and then black in the face with rage.  Drusus’s heart was beating rapidly with hope.  So long as the consuls were at enmity, little would be done!  Suddenly Scipio started as if to leave the assembly.  “He’s going to call in Pompeius’s cohorts!” belched Lentulus.  Marcellus turned pale.  Drusus saw Calidius’s friends whispering with him, evidently warning and remonstrating.  Senators cast uneasy glances toward the doorways, as if expecting to see a century of legionaries march in to enforce the decrees of Pompeius’s spokesmen.  Marcellus staggered to his feet.  He was cowed, and evidently felt himself in personal danger.

“Conscript Fathers,” he stammered, “I—­I withdraw my motion to delay action for considering the recall of Caesar.”

“You have done well!” shouted Lentulus, triumphing savagely.  Scipio ostentatiously settled back on his seat, while Cato called with warning, yet exultation:—­

“Take care what you do.  Caesar is the only sober man among all those engaged in the plot to overturn the government.  Remember with whom you must deal, and act!”

Then Scipio arose once more.  Every one knew that his fiat was law.  “Conscript Fathers,” he began, “Marcus Cato speaks well.  Consider the power of Caesar.  He has trained up bands of gladiators whom his friends, both senators and knights, are drilling for him.  He is doubling his soldiers’ pay, giving them extra corn, slaves, attendants, and land grants.  A great part of the Senate,—­yes, Cicero even, they say,—­owes him money, at low and favourable rates of interest; he has actually made presents to freedmen and influential slaves.  All young prodigals in debt are in his pay.  He has made presents to win the favour of cities and princes, or been lending them troops without vote of the Senate.  In Italy, Gaul, and Spain,—­yes, in Greece, too, and Asia, he is winning the good-will