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Rh far over, lost his balance and fell, and, clutching wildly at emptiness to save himself somehow, struck the emperor’s heir full in the face.

Oh, what an angry Caracalla started up from the purple seat and, with scowls and fierce imprecations, ordered that the unlucky child who had unintentionally insulted him should at once be put to death! Pale and trembling, the little lad was dragged before the emperor and his sons, and the deadly swords of Caracalla’s guard of soldiers were drawn from their sheaths.

It was the common punishment for such an offense. The emperor and his sons were sacred. No one touched them unbidden save at penalty of death. But the little lad who had unwittingly offended was so small and innocent! He scarcely comprehended it all, and was more shaken by the fall than by his impending doom, only realizing that some danger was near and every one else was looking upon him in anger. But Geta’s face alone was friendly and pitiful. The little slave boy slipped from the soldier’s grasp and flung himself down at the feet of the emperor’s younger son, clinging to his robe.

It would only have made his punishment more swift if it had been Caracalla’s robe he seized, but Geta was made of tenderer as well as braver stuff. Reaching gently down, he caught the little praying hands into his own.

“Father,” he said, “this is my birthday. I have a right to a boon. I ask for the life of this boy.”

But the stern emperor’s face wore no look of consent, The majesty of Rome had been insulted. What did the life of one slave boy matter among the millions subject to his sway? To him it seemed unfitting to his dignity that such a crime, even though unintentional, should go unpunished.

“It is impossible, my son,” he said. “Ask