But the war of words went on hotter and hotter.  Lentulus Crus noticed that Pompeius looked pale and worried.

“You look careworn, Magnus,” he whispered; “it will be a relief for the burdens of war to be off your shoulders!”

“I know not how this all will come out,” said the general.  “All the chances are in our favour.  We have numbers, the best position, cavalry, the prestige of victory.  Labienus cannot be mistaken in his estimate of Caesar’s men; yet I am afraid, I am almost timorous.”

“It is but the natural fear lest some slight event dim your excellency’s great glory.  Our position is too secure for reverse,” remarked Lentulus, soothingly.

“Great glory—­” repeated Pompeius, “yes, that makes me afraid.  Remember Ulamhala’s words,—­they haunt me:—­

  “’He that is highest shall rise yet higher,
  He that is second shall utterly fall.’

Lentulus, I know Caesar is greater than I!”

Before he could continue, Labienus had risen to his feet in the council.

“An oath! an oath, gentlemen!” cried the renegade legate.  “Swear all after me!  ’By Jupiter Capitolinus, Optimus, Maximus, I swear not to return from the battle until victorious over Caesar!’”

All the council rose.

“We swear!” cried a score of tongues, as though their oath was the lightest thing imaginable.

“Bravely done!” shouted Labienus, while the two Lentuli and Domitius and Scipio and many another scion of the great noble houses joined in the oath. “Hem! Most excellent Magnus, you do not have confidence enough in your own cause to join us.  Do you doubt our loyalty or soldierly qualities!”

“Perpol!” replied Pompeius, with a rather ill-concealed effort to speak gayly, “do you think, good Labienus, that I am as distrustful of you as Caesar ought to be of his men?”

And the Magnus also took the oath.

Outside the tent the sentries were exchanging their challenges.  It was the end of the second watch of the night.[178]

  [178] Midnight.

“It is late, gentlemen,” said Pompeius.  “I believe that I have given my orders.  Remember our watch word for to-morrow.”

“Hercules Invictus!” shouted one and all.

“Unconquerable’ we shall be, I trust,” continued the commander-in-chief.  “Good-night, gentlemen; we meet to-morrow.”

The council broke up, and filed out of the tent.  Lentulus Spinther paused to cast a look of savage anger at Scipio, who lingered behind.  The contest over the pontificate still rankled in his breast.  That four and twenty hours hence both of these aristocratic gentlemen might have more pressing things to think of seemingly entered the head of neither.  Lentulus Crus, Domitius, and Scipio waited after the others were gone.

“I have been wondering all day,” said the genial Domitius, when the tent had emptied, “how Caesar will comport himself if he is taken prisoner and not slain in battle.  I give him credit for not being likely to flee away.”