procession, and Cæsar, with Mark Antony at his left hand, came marching from the great square. Cæsar was excited by his triumph, but when he saw the pale, lean face of Cassius, with a lowering look upon it which seemed to threaten death, he started like a man who sees a deadly serpent in his path. He turned to Antony:

"Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

Antony smiled, but Cæsar went on:

"If my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks

Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music:
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be moved to smile at anything.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.

I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd

Than what I fear; for always I am Cæsar."

The sunshine of the early spring day was now waning, heavy banks of clouds swept up from the sea and a chill wind began to blow. Cæsar wrapped his cloak about him and the procession hurried forward, leaving Brutus and Cassius, with now a third, named Casca, gazing after them, and watching the brilliant train which went on to the palace of Cæsar. Casca was a conspirator of lively imagination and bitter tongue. His description of what had

occurred on the place of the Lupercalia still further incensed Brutus and excited his mind against Cæsar. At length Brutus left them, and sought his own palace, wrapped in gloomy thought, and Cassius rejoiced because he felt sure that now he held the noblest Roman of them all in his crafty hand.

That night the fiercest storm that Rome had ever experienced broke over the city. The cross blue lightning seemed to open the expanse of heaven and the crashing thunder terrified the women and children, and even shook the courage of well-seasoned soldiers. Affrighted animals broke from their stables and rushed into the streets. A lion hurled itself against the bars of its cage in wild terror, and breaking loose, prowled near the Capitol. Men who had seen the ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, until in its wild fury it seemed to join itself with the threatening clouds, were amazed at the storm and hid themselves. One man only appeared to rejoice in the uproar, one who laughed and shook his fist at the heavens, and bared his bosom to the lightning-flash. This man was Cassius, who seemed to see in the fury of the elements something of his own tumultuous spirit. He walked the streets and saw in all about him indications of the unrest which was agitating the Roman State. To his excited imagination it was the reply of the heavens to the call of the independent spirits in Rome, who were rising in rebellion against the claims of Cæsar, and a summons to the conspirators to strike against the usurper. Suddenly he encountered Casca and Cinna. They were making their way to a meeting-place of the conspirators in Pompey's Porch. Said Cassius:

"Now know you, Casca, I have moved already

Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans

To undergo with me an enterprise
Of honorable-dangerous consequence;
And I do know, by this they stay for me

In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night,
There is no stir or walking in the streets,
And the complexion of the element

In favor's like the work we have in hand,

Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible."

Like evil shadows of the night the cloaked conspirators, their faces muffled, and with stealthy footsteps, slunk along the deserted streets until they stood outside the house of Brutus. They waited, and when the door was opened, they slipped like furtive specters into the house. Brutus was walking to and fro in his study, with hasty footsteps. A solitary taper flickered in the gloom. As he walked he muttered to himself:

"Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar
I have not slept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma or a hideous dream:
The Genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council, and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection."

He knew now that the death of Cæsar had been decided upon by the conspirators, and his noble spirit recoiled in horror from the thought. He tried to think of some other alternative whereby the Republic might be preserved, but his mind always returned to the same ghastly topic. He strove to picture Cæsar as an enemy which must be crushed, a serpent's egg, which hatch'd would as his kind

grow mischievous, and therefore to be killed in the shell. As he walked restlessly to and fro he said:

"He would be crown'd:

How that might change his nature, there 's the question:

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?-that;—
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins

Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason. But 't is a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: so Cæsar may;
Then lest he may, prevent.'

Letters inciting him to strike had been flung through the casements of his room and many subtle devices had been carried out by Cassius, so that when the conspirators arrived, Brutus was almost entirely won over to their side. A few words from Cassius, and Brutus finally made up his mind. Cassius then urged that Antony should share the fate of Cæsar, but to this Brutus would not agree, for he said that they were sacrificers and not butchers, and that Mark Antony could do them no more injury than Cæsar's arm when Cæsar's head was off. Some were anxious to have Cicero with them in the plot, for as Metellus Cimber put it it would be well worth the while:

"O let us have him, for his silver hairs

Will purchase us a good opinion,

And buy men's voices to commend our deeds:
It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands;
Our youth and wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity."

But here again Brutus had his way, and Cicero's name was set aside. The storm had now almost spent itself and the gray dawn was struggling in fitful gleams through the murky sky. As silently as they had come the conspirators separated, Brutus watching them the while, with a face as gloomy as the sky. A light touch upon the shoulder aroused him from his dark musing, and he turned, to behold his wife, Portia.

"Dear my lord," she said, "make me acquainted with your cause of grief. Why are you heavy, and what men to-night have had resort to you; for here have been some six or seven, who did hide their faces even from darkness.' Brutus could not share his heavy secret, even with his wife, and shook his head sadly.

"You are my true and honorable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.

By and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart."

And with this she was fain to be content. But already she had guessed the secret and by an intuition realized that the death of Cæsar had been resolved upon by the conspirators.

Within the palace of Cæsar the night had been passed with strange unrest. Calpurnia had tossed sleeplessly