Must I die, now?
DEATH.
Instantly!
NERO.
Must I give up my days of feasting and delight, my spectacles, my
triumphs, my chariots and the applause of multitudes?
DEATH.
All! All!
SATAN.
Haste, Master of the World! One comes--One who will put thee to
the sword. An emperor knows how to die!
NERO.
Die! I have scarce begun to live! Oh, what great deeds I should
accomplish--deeds that should make Olympus tremble! I would fill
up the bed of hoary ocean and speed across it in a triumphal car.
I would still live--would see the sun once more, the Tiber, the
Campagna, the Circus on the golden sands. Ah! let me live!
DEATH.
I will give thee a mantle for the tomb, and an eternal bed that
shall be softer and more peaceful than the Imperial couch.
NERO.
Yet, I am loth to die.
DEATH.
Die, then!
[_He gathers up the shroud, lying beside him on the ground, and
bears away Nero--wrapped in its folds._]
THE LEGEND OF SAINT JULIAN THE HOSPITALLER
CHAPTER I
THE CURSE
Julian's father and mother dwelt in a castle built on the slope of
a hill, in the heart of the woods.
The towers at its four corners had pointed roofs covered with
leaden tiles, and the foundation rested upon solid rocks, which
descended abruptly to the bottom of the moat.
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