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DID you ever see a more futile person than your friend Pompey, for having stirred up all this dust, without any stuff in him, after all? And, on the other hand, did you ever read or hear of anyone prompter in action than our Caesar, and more moderate in victory? Why! Do you think that our soldiers, who in the most inclement and frozen districts, in the severest winter weather, have successfully finished a war at a walk, have been fed on the pick of the orchard? 1 "What, then," say you, "is it all glory with you?" Nay, if you only knew how anxious I am, you would laugh at this glory of mine, which, after all, has nothing to do with me. I can't explain matters to you unless we meet, and I hope that will soon take place. For as soon as he has driven Pompey out of Italy, Caesar has resolved to summon me to Rome: and I look upon that as good as done, unless Pompey has preferred being besieged in Brundisium. Upon my life, the chief motive I have for hurrying there is my ardent desire to see you and impart all my thoughts. And what a lot I have! Goodness! I am afraid that, as usual, I shall forget them all when I do see you. But what have I done to be obliged to retrace my steps to the Alps? It is all because the Intemelli 2 are in arms, and that on some trumpery excuse. Bellienus, a slave of Demetrius, who was commanding a garrison there, seized one Domitius—a man of rank and a friend of Caesar's—for a bribe, and strangled him. The tribe rushed to arms: and I have got to go there with my cohorts over the snow. All over the world, say you, the Domitii are coming to grief. I could have wished that our descendant of Venus had shewn as much resolution in the case of your Domitius, 3 as the son of Psecas 4 did in this one. Give my love to your son.

1 I.e., on dainties, lit. "round apples."

2 The people who have left their name in Ventimiglia.

3 L. Domitius Ahenobarbus, who surrendered to Caesar at Corfinium, but was allowed to depart unharmed.

4 Apparently a slave, mother of Bellienus.

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