Julian.
Investigations, highly necessary investigations, my Caesarius!
Caesarius.
Oh sire, forbid him to go about it so harshly. The book-keeper Pentadius is being hunted down by soldiers; and likewise a certain captain of Praetorians, whose name you have forbidden us to mention; you know whom I mean, sire—that unhappy man who is already, with his whole household, in hiding for fear of you.
Julian.
You do not know this man. In Gaul, he cherished the most audacious designs.
Caesarius.
That may be; but now he is harmless. And not he alone is threatened with destruction; the treasurer, Ursulus, is imprisoned
Julian.
Ah, Ursulus? So that has been found needful.
Caesarius.
Needful? Could <g>that</g> be needful, sire. Think of Ursulus, that stainless old man—that man before whose word high and low bend in reverence
Julian.
A man utterly devoid of judgment, I tell you! Ursulus is a prodigal, who, without any demur, has gorged the rapacity of the court servants. And besides, he is useless in affairs of state. I
