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224 DARKNESS AND DAWN
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE LAST OF THE CLA UDII
'
Tu quoque extinctus jaces
Deflende nobis semper, infelix puer,
Modo sidus orbis, coluraen Augustse doinus,
Britannice.'
SENECA, Octavia.
THE poor young prince was carried by the slaves to his
cubiculum. The poison had been like a dagger-thrust ;
but
he was not quite dead. He lay at first unconscious, his breast
heaving with irregular spasmodic sighs. Acte stole into his
chamber, wept over him, strove to revive him, and, if possible,
to assuage his pangs. It was too late. He did not recognise
her. The moment he could escape from the triclinium Titus
came, and found the slave-boy Epictetus sitting at the foot of
'
the couch, with his head covered. He yet lives/ said the
boy, raising for one moment a cheek down which, in spite
every Stoic lesson, the tears chased each other fast. Titus sat
down by his friend, called his name, clasped his hand, and
wailed aloud without restraint. One almost imperceptible
pressure of the hand proved that there was an instant recognition.
A Christian slave had secretly brought Linus into the
room, which was easy in so numerous a household
;
and bending
over him Linus sprinkled his brow with pure water, raising
up his eyes and his hands to heaven. None present knew
what it meant ;
but Britannicus knew. A lambent smile lit
his features for a moment, like the last gleam of a fading sunset,
for he understood that he had been baptised.
It was the last conscious impression of his young life. The
moment that the banquet ended, Octavia, still in her splendid
apparel, hurried wildly to the chamber. It was a chamber of
death. Already the incense was burning, already the cypress
had been placed before the Propylaea of the Palatine. The
of