“And that hand?” Apollinaris asked in anxious expectation.

“It is there,” replied Berenike, pointing to Martialis, who entered the room at that moment.  Again the brothers interchanged looks of doubt, but the lady cried:  “Consider for a moment!  I would fain go hence with the certainty that the one burning desire shall be fulfilled which still warms this frozen heart.”

She motioned to the centurion, left the apartment with him, and preceded him to her own room.  Arrived there, she ordered the astonished freedman Johannes, in his office as notary, to add a codicil to her will.  In the event of her death, she left to Xanthe, the wife of the centurion Martialis, her lawful property the villa at Kanopus, with all it contained, and the gardens appertaining to it, for the free use of herself and her children.

The soldier listened speechless with astonishment.  This gift was worth twenty houses in the city, and made its owner a rich man.  But the testator was scarcely ten years older than his Xanthe, and, as he kissed the hem of his mistress’s robe in grateful emotion, he cried:  “May the gods reward you for your generosity; but we will pray and offer up sacrifices that it may be long before this comes into our hands!”

The lady shook her head with a bitter smile, and, drawing the soldier aside, she disclosed to him in rapid words her determination to quit this life before the praetorians entered the house.  She then informed the horror-stricken man that she had chosen him to be her avenger.  To him, too, the emperor had dealt a malicious blow.  Let him remember that, when the time came to plunge the sword in the tyrant’s heart.  Should this deed, however, cost Martialis his life—­which he had risked in many a battle for miserable pay—­her will would enable his widow to bring up their children in happiness and comfort.

The centurion had thrown in a deprecatory word or two, but Berenike continued as if she had not heard him, till at last Martialis cried: 

“You ask too much of me, lady.  Caesar is hateful to me, but I am no longer one of the praetorians, and am banished the country.  How is it possible that I should approach him?  How dare I, a common man—­”

The lady came closer to him, and whispered: 

“You will perform this deed to which I have appointed you in the name of all the just.  We demand nothing from you but your sword.  Greater men than you—­the two Aurelians—­will guide it.  At their word of command you will do the deed.  When they give you the signal, brave Martialis, remember the unfortunate woman in Alexandria whose death you swore to revenge.  As soon as the tribunes—­”

But the centurion was suddenly transformed.  “If the tribunes command it,” he interrupted with decision, his dull eye flashing—­“if they demand it of me, I do it willingly.  Tell them Martialis’s sword is ever at their service.  It has made short work of stronger men than that vicious stripling.”