A soft, damp river fog touched on Drusus's face.

Suddenly an early horseman, coming at a moderate gallop, was heard down the road.

In the stillness, the pounding of his steed crept slowly nearer and nearer; then, as he was almost on them, came the hollow clatter of the hoofs upon the planks of a bridge.

_Caesar stopped._ Drusus felt himself clutched by the arm so tightly that the grasp almost meant pain.
"Do you hear?
Do you see ?" muttered the Imperator's voice in his ear.
"The bridge, the river--we have reached it!" "Your excellency--" began Drusus, sorely at a loss.
"No compliments, this is the Rubicon; the boundaries of Cisalpine Gaul and Italy.

On this side I am still the Proconsul--not as yet rightly deposed.