"I have a plan," said the emperor thoughtfully, "--a pretty plan, my
young prince of--of--"
"Judea?" suggested the young prince.
"Oh, well, it matters not," the great father went on. "You know that
fair Vergilius, son of Varro? A headstrong, foolish youth he is, and I
fear much that he is like to die shortly. What think you?"
The piercing eyes of Augustus were looking into those of the young man.
"My great father," said the latter, "I do not know."
"'Tis gross ignorance and unworthy of you," said Augustus, quickly, as
he rose. "Well, I have bethought me of a pretty plan. Your funeral
and his shall occur on the same day--a fine, great, amusing funeral,"
he added, thoughtfully. "It shall be so. Do not worry, I shall see
you well buried. Ah, you are most impolite. Why do you not ask me to
drink your health? My pretty prince, you look most ill and have need
of my good wishes."
"Dominus!" said the other, trembling with anxiety.
"Dominus!" the old emperor shouted, angrily. "Call me ass, if you
dare, but never call me 'Dominus.
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