intimate friend of Tigellinus, called upon Pudens, and proposed to accompany him to

the baths.

Carus was not unknown to him, as one of the most notorious of that infamous class of men at Rome, called Delatores,* who gained their livelihood by accusations; but he thought it more polite to comply with his request, however odious, than to incur the resentment of so dangerous an enemy by a refusal. As the Comitia, or courts of law, lay in their way, Carus begged Pudens to excuse his absence for a few moments, while he stepped into the hall, and meanwhile to occupy himself with glancing over the teeming lists of persons accused. While the latter was thus engaged, he heard his companion reciting the usual form of accusation, called nominis delatio,† against some person, whose name he requested the Prætor's permission to enter in the list of the accused.

A tablet was, accordingly, given to him, upon which he wrote something, and presented it to the Prætor, who having read it, entered into a short conversation with him in an under voice.

*Juv. Sat. v. 36, and Mart. lib. x11., ep. 25.
+ See Adam's and Kennett's Roman Antiquities.

At the close of this conversation, to Pudens's surprise, a lictor was dispatched to him to call his attention to the Prætor, who thus addressed him ;

"Aulus Pudens, you stand accused of two capital offences, crimen majestatis, or the crime of treason; and crimen sacrilegii, or the crime of sacrilege. I appoint one month from this day, for you to take your trial respecting the said crimes. Are you prepared with sureties for your appearance on that day?"

Pudens, whose dismay and astonishment at this unexpected accusation can be better imagined than described, replied, that he had no sureties present, for he knew of no crime which could be laid to his charge; but that, although he had not resided in Rome long enough to know that it was dangerous for an innocent person to walk the streets without sureties, yet he had resided long enough to be able to rely upon the friendly services of one or two persons, who, he felt assured, would readily come forward, and whose names were a sufficient guarantee of his innocence. He then named Seneca, Lucan, and Petronius.

Carus smiled significantly at the Prætor, who returned the smile; and the latter told Pudens

that if he was unprepared with sureties in court, it was his duty to commit him to the custody of a centurion, to whom he consigned him accordingly, giving directions, however, that no unnecessary restraint should be used, but that he should be allowed the highest degree of liberty compatible with his safe custody, for which, of course, he should hold the centurion himself responsible.

CHAPTER XI.

Tu tempestatem, cœlo multo antè sereno,
Prædixti sociis, nil tale timentibus augur ;
Sed tamen è numero fracta rate defore nullum.

VIDE HYM. PAULO APOST.

"Twas thine, when cloudless shone the azure sky,
To tell the heedless crew a storm was nigh;
And when the hopeless wreck bestrew'd the main,
"Twas thine to tell them all their fears were vain.

THERE is a certain degree in the scale of affliction, beyond which calamities cease to produce their ordinary effect, and sometimes have even an opposite tendency, as water in the act of congelation is warmer than when at the freezing point, and when in the act of ebulition, is cooler than immediately before! In accordance with this moral paradox, the treacherous cruelty of which Pudens had become a victim, did not enhance his mental sufferings, but on the contrary, afforded him

an indefinable but positive sensation of plea

sure.

"Yes," said he to himself, in bitter mockery, "this instance of the faithlessness of man is a very proper accompaniment to that of the fickleness of woman; neither would be quite complete without the other."

The chill which he had received from the conduct of Claudia, had made him so reckless of his fate, that, although he felt confident that a line from himself to either of his friends, would liberate him from custody, upon their responsibility, so far was he from writing that line, that he gloried in his imprisonment, and would rather have had his hand amputated, than have availed himself of its assistance. The only shadow of disinclination to his captivity, of which he was sensible, arose from its disabling him from prosecuting his search after Claudia, of whose fate and fortunes he could not endure being left wholly ignorant. The same recklessness, arising from hope deferred, until his heart was sick, made him perfectly indifferent as to the accusation under which he lay, and inactive as to his defence.

Although the centurion, to whose custody he