Brutus cried aloud, “So perishes the tyrant!” and his bloody dagger was raised high and exultantly. Cicero fell against a column, smothered and half-fainting. At his feet lay Julius, whose eyes had closed. Cicero dropped to his knees beside the dead man. Gently, he moved aside the cloak which half-concealed the face of the victim. All sound receded from him, and he and Julius were alone, and they were children again. He did not see the blood, nor the livid hue that spread over Julius’ fierce face, nor the bald head pathetic in the sun.
