against Pompey's statue, and squared himself to receive his assailants.

Cassias and Cimber and Cinna rushed upon him with their daggers drawn,

and the former succeeded in inflicting a wound upon his body; but before

he could strike again, and before either of the others could strike at

all, Caesar stretched the three miscreants at his feet with as many blows

of his powerful fist. By this time the Senate was in an indescribable

uproar; the throng of citizens in the lobbies had blockaded the doors in

their frantic efforts to escape from the building, the sergeant-at-arms

and his assistants were struggling with the assassins, venerable senators

had cast aside their encumbering robes, and were leaping over benches and

flying down the aisles in wild confusion toward the shelter of the

committee-rooms, and a thousand voices were shouting "Po-lice! Po-lice!"

in discordant tones that rose above the frightful din like shrieking

winds above the roaring of a tempest. And amid it all great Caesar stood

with his back against the statue, like a lion at bay, and fought his

assailants weaponless and hand to hand, with the defiant bearing and the

unwavering courage which he had shown before on many a bloody field.

Billy Trebonius and Caius Legarius struck him with their daggers and

fell, as their brother-conspirators before them had fallen. But at last,

when Caesar saw his old friend Brutus step forward armed with a murderous

knife, it is said he seemed utterly overpowered with grief and amazement,

and, dropping his invincible left arm by his side, he hid his face in the

folds of his mantle and received the treacherous blow without an effort

to stay the hand that gave it. He only said, "Et tu, Brute?" and fell

lifeless on the marble pavement.

366

Sketches New and Old