Wilkie  Collins Antonina (Fiscle Part-Xii) Part 2 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 1 
   
 The End Of   November Is Approaching.  Nearly A Month Has Elapsed Since 
 The Occurrence Of   The   Events Mentioned In The   Last Chapter, Yet Still 
 The Gothic Lines Stretch Round The   City Walls.  Rome, That We Left 
 Haughty And Luxurious Even While Ruin Threatened Her At Her Gates, Has 
 Now Suffered A Terrible And Warning Change.  As We Approach Her Again, 
 Woe, Horror, And Desolation Have Already Gone Forth To Shadow Her Lofty 
 Palaces And To Darken Her Brilliant Streets. 
   
   
   
   
 Over Pomp That Spurned It, Over Pleasure That Defied It, Over Plenty 
 That Scared It In Its Secret Rounds, The   Spectre Hunger Has Now Risen 
 Triumphant At Last.  Day By Day Has The   City's Insufficient Allowance 
 Of Food Been More And More Sparingly Doled Out; Higher And Higher Has 
 Risen The   Value Of   The   Coarsest And Simplest Provision; The   Hoarded 
 Supplies That Pity And Charity Have Already Bestowed To Cheer The 
 Sinking People Have Reached Their Utmost Limits.  For The   Rich, There 
 Is Still Corn In The   City--Treasure Of   Food To Be Bartered For Treasure 
 Of Gold.  For The   Poor, Man's Natural Nourishment Exists No More; The 
 Season Of   Famine's Loathsome Feasts, The   First Days Of   The   Sacrifice Of 
 Choice To Necessity Have Darkly And Irretrievably Begun. 
   
   
   
 It Is Morning.  A Sad And Noiseless Throng Is Advancing Over The   Cold 
 Flagstones Of   The   Great Square Before The   Basilica Of   St. John Lateran. 
 The Members Of   The   Assembly Speak In Whispers. The   Weak Are 
 Tearful--The Strong Are Gloomy--They All Move With Slow And Languid 
 Gait, And Hold In Their Arms Their Dogs Or Other Domestic Animals.  On 
 The Outskirts Of   The   Crowd March The   Enfeebled Guards Of   The   City, 
 Grasping In Their Rough Hands Rare Favourite Birds Of   Gaudy Plumage And 
 Melodious Note, And Followed By Children And Young Girls Vainly And 
 Piteously Entreating That Their Favourites May Be Restored. 
   
   
   
 This Strange Procession Pauses, At Length, Before A Mighty Caldron 
 Slung Over A Great Fire In The   Middle Of   The   Square, Round Which Stand 
 The City Butchers With Bare Knives, And The   Trustiest Men Of   The   Roman 
 Legions With Threatening Weapons.  A Proclamation Is Then Repeated, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 2 
 Commanding The   Populace Who Have No Money Left To Purchase Food, To 
 Bring Up Their Domestic Animals To Be Boiled Together Over The   Public 
 Furnace, For The   Sake Of   Contributing To The   Public Support. 
   
   
   
 The Next Minute, In Pursuance Of   This Edict, The   Dumb Favourites Of   The 
 Crowd Passed From The   Owner's Caressing Hand Into The   Butcher's Ready 
 Grasp.  The   Faint Cries Of   The   Animals, Starved Like Their Masters, 
 Mingled For A Few Moments With The   Sobs And Lamentations Of   The   Women 
 And Children, To Whom The   Greater Part Of   Them Belonged.  For, In This 
 The First Stage Of   Their Calamities, That Severity Of   Hunger Which 
 Extinguishes Pity And Estranges Grief Was Unknown To The   Populace; And 
 Though Fast Losing Spirit, They Had Not Yet Sunk To The   Depths Of 
 Ferocious Despair Which Even Now Were Invisibly Opening Between Them. 
 A Thousand Pangs Were Felt, A Thousand Humble Tragedies Were Acted, In 
 The Brief Moments Of   Separation Between Guardian And Charge.  The   Child 
 Snatched Its Last Kiss Of   The   Bird That Had Sung Over Its Bed; The   Dog 
 Looked Its Last Entreaty For Protection From The   Mistress Who Had Once 
 Never Met It Without A Caress.  Then Came The   Short Interval Of   Agony 
 And Death, Then The   Steam Rose Fiercely From The   Greedy Caldron, And 
 Then The   People For A Time Dispersed; The   Sorrowful To Linger Near The 
 Confines Of   The   Fire, And The   Hungry To Calm Their Impatience By A 
 Visit To The   Neighbouring Church. 
   
   
   
 The Marble Aisles Of   The   Noble Basilica Held A Gloomy Congregation. 
 Three Small Candles Were Alone Lighted On The   High Altar.  No Sweet 
 Voices Sang Melodious Anthems Or Exulting Hymns. The   Monks, In Hoarse 
 Tones And Monotonous Harmonics, Chanted The   Penitential Psalms.  Here 
 And There Knelt A Figure Clothed In Mourning Robes, And Absorbed In 
 Secret Prayer; But Over The   Majority Of   The   Assembly Either Blank 
 Despondency Or Sullen Inattention Universally Prevailed. 
   
   
   
 As The   Last Dull Notes Of   The   Last Psalm Died Away Among The   Lofty 
 Recesses Of   The   Church, A Procession Of   Pious Christians Appeared At 
 The Door And Advanced Slowly To The   Altar.  It Was Composed Both Of   Men 
 And Women Barefooted, Clothed In Black Garments, And With Ashes 
 Scattered Over Their Dishevelled Hair.  Tears Flowed From Their Eyes, 
 And They Beat Their Breasts As They Bowed Their Foreheads On The   Marble 
 Pavement Of   The   Altar Steps. 
   
   
   
   
 This Humble Public Expression Of   Penitence Under The   Calamity That Had 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 3 
 Now Fallen On The   City Was, However, Confined Only To Its Few Really 
 Religious Inhabitants, And Commanded Neither Sympathy Nor Attention 
 From The   Heartless And Obstinate Population Of   Rome.  Some Still 
 Cherished The   Delusive Hope Of   Assistance From The   Court At Ravenna; 
 Others Believed That The   Goths Would Ere Long Impatiently Abandon Their 
 Protracted Blockade, To Stretch Their Ravages Over The   Rich And 
 Unprotected Fields Of   Southern Italy.  But The   Same Blind Confidence In 
 The Lost Terrors Of   The   Roman Name, The   Same Fierce And Reckless 
 Determination To Defy The   Goths To The   Very Last, Sustained The   Sinking 
 Courage And Suppressed The   Despondent Emotions Of   The   Great Mass Of   The 
 Suffering People, From The   Beggar Who Prowled For Garbage, To The 
 Patrician Who Sighed Over His New And Unwelcome Nourishment Of   Simple 
 Bread. 
   
   
   
 While The   Penitents Who Formed The   Procession Above Described Were Yet 
 Engaged In The   Performance Of   Their Unnoticed And Unshared Duties Of 
 Penance And Prayer, A Priest Ascended The   Great Pulpit Of   The   Basilica, 
 To Attempt The   Ungrateful Task Of   Preaching Patience And Piety To The 
 Hungry Multitude At His Feet. 
   
   
   
 He Began His Sermon By Retracing The   Principal Occurrences In Rome 
 Since The   Beginning Of   The   Gothic Blockade.  He Touched Cautiously Upon 
 The First Event That Stained The   Annals Of   The   Besieged City--The 
 Execution Of   The   Widow Of   The   Roman General Stilicho, On The 
 Unauthorised Suspicion That She Had Held Treasonable Communication With 
 Alaric And The   Invading Army; He Noticed Lengthily The   Promises Of 
 Assistance Transmitted From Ravenna, After The   Perpetration Of   That 
 Ill-Omened Act. He Spoke Admiringly Of   The   Skill Displayed By The 
 Government In Making The   Necessary And Immediate Reductions In The 
 Daily Supplies Of   Food; He Lamented The   Terrible Scarcity Which 
 Followed, Too Inevitably, Those Seasonable Reductions.  He Pronounced 
 An Eloquent Eulogium On The   Noble Charity Of   Laeta, The   Widow Of   The 
 Emperor Gratian, Who, With Her Mother, Devoted The   Store Of   Provisions 
 Obtained By Their Imperial Revenues To Succouring, At That Important 
 Juncture, The   Starving And Desponding Poor:  He Admitted The   New 
 Scarcity, Consequent On The   Dissipation Of   Laeta's Stores; Deplored The 
 Present Necessity Of   Sacrificing The   Domestic Animals Of   The   Citizens; 
 Condemned The   Enormous Prices Now Demanded For The   Last Remnants Of 
 Wholesome Food That Were Garnered Up; Announced It As The   Firm 
 Persuasion Of   Every One That A Few Days More Would Bring Help From 
 Ravenna; And Ended His Address By Informing His Auditory That, As They 
 Had Suffered So Much Already, They Could Patiently Suffer A Little 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 4 
 More, And That If, After This, They Were So Ill-Fated As To Sink Under 
 Their Calamities, They Would Feel It A Noble Consolation To Die In The 
 Cause Of   Catholic And Apostolic Rome, And Would Assuredly Be Canonised 
 As Saints And Martyrs By The   Next Generation Of   The   Pious In The   First 
 Interval Of   Fertile And Restoring Peace. 
   
   
   
 Flowing As Was The   Eloquence Of   This Oration, It Yet Possessed Not The 
 Power Of   Inducing One Among Those Whom It Addressed To Forget The 
 Sensation Of   His Present Suffering, And To Fix His Attention On The 
 Vision Of   Future Advantage, Spread Before All Listeners By The   Fluent 
 Priest.  With The   Same Murmurs Of   Querulous Complaint, And The   Same 
 Expressions Of   Impotent Hatred And Defiance Of   The   Goths Which Had 
 Fallen From Them As They Entered The   Church, The   Populace Now Departed 
 From It, To Receive From The   City Officers The   Stinted Allowance Of 
 Repugnant Food, Prepared For Their Hunger From The   Caldron In The 
 Public Square. 
   
   
   
 And See, Already From Other Haunts In The   Neighbouring Quarter Of   Rome 
 Their Fellow-Citizens Press Onward At The   Given Signal, To Meet Them 
 Round The   Caldron's Sides!  The   Languid Sentinel, Released From Duty, 
 Turns His Gaze From The   Sickening Prospect Of   The   Gothic Camp, And 
 Hastens To Share The   Public Meal; The   Baker Starts From Sleeping On His 
 Empty Counter, The   Beggar Rises From His Kennel In The   Butcher's Vacant 
 Out-House, The   Slave Deserts His Place By The   Smouldering 
 Kitchen-Fire--All Hurry To Swell The   Numbers Of   The   Guests That Are 
 Bidden To The   Wretched Feast. Rapidly And Confusedly, The   Congregation 
 In The   Basilica Pours Through Its Lofty Gates; The   Priests And 
 Penitents Retire From The   Altar's Foot, And In The   Great Church, So 
 Crowded But A Few Moments Before, There Now Only Remains The   Figure Of 
 A Solitary Man. 
   
   
   
   
 Since The   Commencement Of   The   Service, Neither Addressed Nor Observed, 
 This Lonely Being Has Faltered Round The   Circle Of   The   Congregation, 
 Gazing Long And Wistfully Over The   Faces That Met His View.  Now That 
 The Sermon Is Ended, And The   Last Lingerer Has Quitted The   Church, He 
 Turns From The   Spot Whence He Has Anxiously Watched The   Different 
 Members Of   The   Departing Throng, And Feebly Crouches Down On His Knees 
 At The   Base Of   A Pillar That Is Near Him.  His Eyes Are Hollow, And His 
 Cheeks Are Wan; His Thin Grey Hairs Are Few And Fading On His Aged 
 Head. He Makes No Effort To Follow The   Crowd And Partake Their 
 Sustenance; No One Is Left Behind To Urge, No One Returns To Lead Him 
 To The   Public Meal.  Though Weak And Old, He Is Perfectly Forsaken In 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 5 
 His Loneliness, Perfectly Unsolaced In His Grief; His Friends Have Lost 
 All Trace Of   Him; His Enemies Have Ceased To Fear Or To Hate Him Now. 
 As He Crouches By The   Pillar Alone, He Covers His Forehead With His 
 Pale, Palsied Hands, His Dim Eyes Fill With Bitter Tears, And Such 
 Expressions As These Are Ever And Anon Faintly Audible In The   Intervals 
 Of His Heavy Sighs:  'Day After Day!  Day After Day!  And My Lost One 
 Is Not Found! My Loved And Wronged One Is Not Restored!  Antonina! 
 Antonina!' 
   
   
   
 Some Days After The   Public Distribution Of   Food In The   Square Of   St. 
 John Lateran, Vetranio's Favourite Freedman Might Have Been Observed 
 Pursuing His Way Homeward, Sadly And Slowly, To His Master's Palace. 
   
   
   
 It Was Not Without Cause That The   Pace Of   The   Intelligent Carrio Was 
 Funereal And His Expression Disconsolate.  Even During The   Short Period 
 That Had Elapsed Since The   Scene In The   Basilica Already Described, The 
 Condition Of   The   City Had Altered Fearfully For The   Worse.  The   Famine 
 Advanced With Giant Strides; Every Succeeding Hour Endued It With New 
 Vigour, Every Effort To Repel It Served But To Increase Its Spreading 
 And Overwhelming Influence.  One After Another The   Pleasures And 
 Pursuits Of   The   City Declined Beneath The   Dismal Oppression Of   The 
 Universal Ill, Until The   Public Spirit In Rome Became Moved Alike In 
 All Classes By One Gloomy Inspiration--A Despairing Defiance Of   The 
 Famine And The   Goths. 
   
   
   
 The Freedman Entered His Master's Palace Neither Saluted Nor Welcomed 
 By The   Once Obsequious Slaves In The   Outer Lodge.  Neither Harps Nor 
 Singing-Boys, Neither Woman's Ringing Laughter Nor Man's Bacchanalian 
 Glee, Now Woke The   Echoes In The   Lonely Halls.  The   Pulse Of   Pleasure 
 Seemed To Have Throbbed Its Last In The   Joyless Being Of   Vetranio's 
 Altered Household. 
   
   
   
 Hastening His Steps As He Entered The   Mansion, Carrio Passed Into The 
 Chamber Where The   Senator Awaited Him. 
   
   
   
 On Two Couches, Separated By A Small Table, Reclined The   Lord Of   The 
 Palace And His Pupil And Companion At Ravenna, The   Once Sprightly 
 Camilla.  Vetranio's Open Brow Had Contracted A Clouded And Severe 
 Expression, And He Neither Regarded Nor Addressed His Visitor, Who, On 
 Her Part, Remained As Silent And As Melancholy As Himself.  Every Trace 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 6 
 Of The   Former Characteristics Of   The   Gay, Elegant Voluptuary And The 
 Lively, Prattling Girl Seemed To Have Completely Vanished. On The   Table 
 Between Them Stood A Large Bottle Containing Falernian Wine, And A Vase 
 Filled With A Little Watery Soup, In The   Middle Of   Which Floated A 
 Small Dough Cake, Sparingly Sprinkled With Common Herbs.  As For The 
 Usual Accompaniments Of   Vetranio's Luxurious Privacy, They Were Nowhere 
 To Be Seen.  Poems, Pictures, Trinkets, Lutes, All Were Absent.  Even 
 The 'Inestimable Kitten Of   The   Breed Most Worshipped By The   Ancient 
 Egyptians' Appeared No More.  It Had Been Stolen, Cooked, And Eaten By 
 A Runaway Slave, Who Had Already Bartered Its Ruby Collar For A Lean 
 Parrot And The   Unroasted Half Of   The   Carcase Of   A Dog. 
   
   
   
 'I Lament To Confess It, O Estimable Patron, But My Mission Has 
 Failed,' Observed Carrio, Producing From His Cloak Several Bags Of 
 Money And Boxes Of   Jewels, Which He Carefully Deposited On The   Table. 
 'The Prefect Has Himself Assisted In Searching The   Public And Private 
 Granaries, And Has Arrived At The   Conclusion That Not A Handful Of   Corn 
 Is Left In The   City.  I Offered Publicly In The   Market-Place Five 
 Thousand Sestertii For A Living Cock And Hen, But Was Told That The 
 Race Had Long Since Been Exterminated, And That, As Money Would No 
 Longer Buy Food, Money Was No Longer Desired By The   Poorest Beggar In 
 Rome.  There Is No More Even Of   The   Hay I Yesterday Purchased To Be 
 Obtained For The   Most Extravagant Bribes.  Those Still Possessing The 
 Smallest Supplies Of   Provision Guard And Hide Them With The   Most 
 Jealous Care.  I Have Done Nothing But Obtain For The   Consumption Of 
 The Few Slaves Who Yet Remain Faithful In The   House This Small Store Of 
 Dogs' Hides, Reserved From The   Public Distribution Of   Some Days Since 
 In The   Square Of   The   Basilica Of   St. John.' 
   
   
   
   
 And The   Freedman, With An Air Of   Mingled Triumph And Disgust, Produced 
 As He Spoke His Provision Of   Dirty Skins. 
   
   
   
 'What Supplies Have We Still Left In Our Possession?' Demanded 
 Vetranio, After Drinking A Deep Draught Of   The   Falernian, And Motioning 
 His Servant To Place His Treasured Burden Out Of   Sight. 
   
   
   
 'I Have Hidden In A Secure Receptacle, For I Know Not How Soon Hunger 
 May Drive The   Slaves To Disobedience,' Rejoined Carrio, 'Seven Bags Of 
 Hay, Three Baskets Stocked With Salted Horse-Flesh, A Sweetmeat-Box 
 Filled With Oats, And Another With Dried Parsley; The   Rare Indian 
 Singing Birds Are Still Preserved Inviolate In Their Aviary; There Is A 
 Great Store Of   Spices, And Some Bottles Of   The   Nightingale Sauce Yet 
 Remain.' 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 7 
   
   
 'What Is The   Present Aspect Of   The   City?' Interrupted Vetranio 
 Impatiently. 
   
   
   
 'Rome Is As Gloomy As A Subterranean Sepulchre,' Replied Carrio, With A 
 Shudder.  'The People Congregate In Speechless And Hungry Mobs At The 
 Doors Of   Their Houses And The   Corners Of   The   Streets, The   Sentinels At 
 The Ramparts Totter On Their Posts, Women And Children Are Sleeping 
 Exhausted On The   Very Pavements Of   The   Churches, The   Theatres Are 
 Emptied Of   Actors And Audience Alike, The   Baths Resound With Cries For 
 Food And Curses On The   Goths, Thefts Are Already Committed In The   Open 
 And Unguarded Shops, And The   Barbarians Remain Fixed In Their 
 Encampments, Unapproached By Our Promised Legions From Ravenna, Neither 
 Assaulting Us In Our Weakness, Nor Preparing To Raise The   Blockade! 
 Our Situation Grows More And More Perilous.  I Have Great Hopes In Our 
 Store Of   Provisions; But--' 
   
   
   
 'Cast Your Hopes To The   Court At Ravenna, And Your Beasts' Provender To 
 The Howling Mob!' Cried Vetranio With Sudden Energy.  'It Is Now Too 
 Late To Yield; If The   Next Few Days Bring Us No Assistance, The   City 
 Will Be A Human Shambles!  And Think You That I, Who Have Already Lost 
 In This Public Suspension Of   Social Joys My Pleasures, My Employments, 
 And My Companions, Will Wait Serenely For The   Lingering And Ignoble 
 Death That Must Then Threaten Us All?  No, It Shall Never Be Said That 
 I Died Starving With The   Herd, Like A Slave That His Master Deserts! 
 Though The   Plates In My Banqueting Hall Must Now Be Empty, My Vases And 
 Wine-Cups Shall Yet Sparkle For My Guests!  There Is Still Wine In The 
 Cellar, And Spices And Perfumes Remain In The   Larder Stores!  I Will 
 Invite My Friends To A Last Feast; A Saturnalia In A City Of   Famine; A 
 Banquet Of   Death, Spread By The   Jovial Labours Of   Silenus And His 
 Fauns! Though The   Parcae Have Woven For Me The   Destiny Of   A Dog, It Is 
 The Hand Of   Bacchus That Shall Sever The   Fatal Thread!' 
   
   
   
 His Cheeks Were Flushed, His Eyes Sparkled; All The   Mad Energy Of   His 
 Determination Appeared In His Face As He Spoke.  He Was No Longer The 
 Light, Amiable, Smooth-Tongued Trifler, But A Moody, Reckless, 
 Desperate Man, Careless Of   Every Obligation And Pursuit Which Had 
 Hitherto Influenced The   Easy Surface Of   His Patrician Life.  The 
 Startled Camilla, Who Had As Yet Preserved A Melancholy Silence, Ran 
 Towards Him With Affrighted Looks And Undissembled Tears.  Carrio 
 Stared In Vacant Astonishment On His Master's Disordered Countenance; 
 And, Forgetting His Bundle Of   Dogskins, Suffered Them To Drop Unheeded 
 On The   Floor.  A Momentary Silence Followed, Which Was Suddenly 
 Interrupted By The   Abrupt Entrance Of   A Fourth Person, Pale, Trembling 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 14 (The Famine) Pg 8 
 And Breathless, Who Was No Other Than Vetranio's Former Visitor, The 
 Prefect Pompeianus. 
   
   
   
 'I Bid You Welcome To My Approaching Feast Of   Brimming Wine-Cups And 
 Empty Dishes!' Cried Vetranio, Pouring The   Sparkling Falernian Into His 
 Empty Glass.  'The Last Banquet Given In Rome, Ere The   City Is 
 Annihilated, Will Be Mine!  The   Goths And The   Famine Shall Have No Part 
 In My Death! Pleasure Shall Preside At My Last Moments, As It Has 
 Presided At My Whole Life!  I Will Die Like Sardanapalus, With My Loves 
 And My Treasures Around Me, And The   Last Of   My Guests Who Remains Proof 
 Against Our Festivity Shall Set Fire To My Palace, As The   Kingly 
 Assyrian Set Fire To His!' 
   
   
   
   
 'This Is No Season For Jesting,' Exclaimed The   Prefect, Staring Round 
 Him With Bewildered Eyes And Colourless Cheeks.  'Our Miseries Are But 
 Dawning As Yet!  In The   Next Street Lies The   Corpse Of   A Woman, 
 And--Horrible Omen!--A Coil Of   Serpents Is Wreathed About Her Neck!  We 
 Have No Burial-Place To Receive Her, And The   Thousands Who May Die Like 
 Her, Ere Assistance Arrives.  The   City Sepulchres Outside The   Walls Are 
 In The   Hands Of   The   Goths.  The   People Stand Round The   Body In A Trance 
 Of Horror, For They Have Now Discovered A Fatal Truth We Would Fain 
 Have Concealed From Them--' Here The   Prefect Paused, Looked Round 
 Affrightedly On His Listeners, And Then Added In Low Trembling Tones-- 
   
   
   
 'The Citizens Are Lying Dead From Famine In The   Streets Of   Rome!' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 9 
   
 We Return Once More To The   Gothic Encampment In The   Suburbs Eastward Of 
 The Pincian Gate, And To Hermanric And The   Warriors Under His Command, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 10 
 Who Are Still Posted At That Particular Position On The   Great Circle Of 
 The Blockade. 
   
   
   
 The Movements Of   The   Young Chieftain From Place To Place Expressed, In 
 Their Variety And Rapidity, The   Restlessness That Was Agitating His 
 Mind.  He Glanced Back Frequently From The   Warriors Around Him To The 
 Remote And Opposite Quarter Of   The   Suburbs, Occasionally Directing His 
 Eyes Towards The   Western Horizon, As If Anxiously Awaiting The   Approach 
 Of Some Particular Hour Of   The   Coming Night. Weary At Length Of 
 Pursuing Occupations Which Evidently Irritated Rather Than Soothed His 
 Impatience, He Turned Abruptly From His Companions, And Advancing 
 Towards The   City, Paced Slowly Backwards And Forwards Over The   Waste 
 Ground Between The   Suburbs And The   Walls Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 At Intervals He Still Continued To Examine The   Scene Around Him.  A 
 More Dreary Prospect Than Now Met His View, Whether In Earth Or Sky, 
 Can Hardly Be Conceived. 
   
   
   
 The Dull Sunless Day Was Fast Closing, And The   Portentous Heaven Gave 
 Promise Of   A Stormy Night. Thick, Black Layers Of   Shapeless Cloud Hung 
 Over The   Whole Firmament, Save At The   Western Point; And Here Lay A 
 Streak Of   Pale, Yellow Light, Enclosed On All Sides By The   Firm, 
 Ungraduated, Irregular Edges Of   The   Masses Of   Gloomy Vapour Around It. 
 A Deep Silence Hung Over The   Whole Atmosphere. The   Wind Was Voiceless 
 Among The   Steady Trees.  The   Stir And Action In The   Being Of   Nature And 
 The Life Of   Man Seemed Enthralled, Suspended, Stifled.  The   Air Was 
 Laden With A Burdensome Heat; And All Things On Earth, Animate And 
 Inanimate, Felt The   Oppression That Weighed On Them From The   Higher 
 Elements.  The   People Who Lay Gasping For Breath In The   Famine-Stricken 
 City, And The   Blades Of   Grass That Drooped Languidly On The   Dry Sward 
 Beyond The   Walls, Owned The   Enfeebling Influence Alike. 
   
   
   
 As The   Hours Wore On And Night Stealthily And Gradually Advanced, A 
 Monotonous Darkness Overspread, One After Another, The   Objects 
 Discernible To Hermanric From The   Solitary Ground He Still Occupied. 
 Soon The   Great City Faded Into One Vast, Impenetrable Shadow, While The 
 Suburbs And The   Low Country Around Them Vanished In The   Thick Darkness 
 That Gathered Almost Perceptibly Over The   Earth.  And Now The   Sole 
 Object Distinctly Visible Was The   Figure Of   A Weary Sentinel, Who Stood 
 On The   Frowning Rampart Immediately Above The   Rifted Wall, And Whose 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 11 
 Drooping Figure, Propped Upon His Weapon, Was Indicated In Hard Relief 
 Against The   Thin, Solitary Streak Of   Light Still Shining In The   Cold 
 And Cloudy Wastes Of   The   Western Sky. 
   
   
   
 But As The   Night Still Deepened, This One Space Of   Light Faded, 
 Contracted, Vanished, And With It Disappeared The   Sentinel And The   Line 
 Of Rampart On Which He Was Posted.  The   Rule Of   The   Darkness Now Became 
 Universal.  Densely And Rapidly It Overspread The   Whole City With 
 Startling Suddenness; As If The   Fearful Destiny Now Working Its 
 Fulfilment In Rome Had Forced The   External Appearances Of   The   Night 
 Into Harmony With Its Own Woe-Boding Nature. 
   
   
   
   
 Then, As The   Young Goth Still Lingered At His Post Of   Observation, The 
 Long, Low, Tremulous, Absorbing Roll Of   Thunder Afar Off Became Grandly 
 Audible.  It Seemed To Proceed From A Distance Almost Incalculable; To 
 Be Sounding From Its Cradle In The   Frozen North; To Be Journeying About 
 Its Ice-Girdled Chambers In The   Lonely Poles.  It Deepened Rather Than 
 Interrupted The   Dreary, Mysterious Stillness Of   The   Atmosphere.  The 
 Lightning, Too, Had A Summer Softness In Its Noiseless And Frequent 
 Gleam.  It Was Not The   Fierce Lightning Of   Winter, But A Warm, Fitful 
 Brightness, Almost Fascinating In Its Light, Rapid Recurrence, Tinged 
 With The   Glow Of   Heaven, And Not With The   Glare Of   Hell. 
   
   
   
 There Was No Wind--No Rain; And The   Air Was As Hushed As If It Slept 
 Over Chaos In The   Infancy Of   A New Creation. 
   
   
   
 Among The   Various Objects Displayed, Instant By Instant, By The   Rapid 
 Lightning To The   Eyes Of   Hermanric, The   Most Easily And Most Distinctly 
 Visible Was The   Broad Surface Of   The   Rifted Wall.  The   Large, Loose 
 Stones, Scattered Here And There At Its Base, And The   Overhanging Lid 
 Of Its Broad Rampart, Became Plainly Though Fitfully Apparent In The 
 Brief Moments Of   Their Illumination.  The   Lightning Had Played For Some 
 Time Over That Structure Of   The   Fortifications, And The   Bare Ground 
 That Stretched Immediately Beyond Them, When The   Smooth Prospect Which 
 It Thus Gave By Glimpses To View, Was Suddenly Chequered By A Flight Of 
 Birds Appearing From One Of   The   Lower Divisions Of   The   Wall, And 
 Flitting Uneasily To And Fro At One Spot Before Its Surface. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 12 
 As Moment After Moment The   Lightning Continued To Gleam, So The   Black 
 Forms Of   The   Birds Were Visible To The   Practised Eye Of   The 
 Goth--Perceptible, Yet Evanescent, As Sparks Of   Fire Or Flakes Of 
 Snow--Whirling Confusedly And Continually About The   Spot Whence They 
 Had Evidently Been Startled By Some Unimaginable Interruption.  At 
 Length, After A Lapse Of   Some Time, They Vanished As Suddenly As They 
 Had Appeared, With Shrill Notes Of   Affright Which Were Audible Even 
 Above The   Continuous Rolling Of   The   Thunder; And Immediately 
 Afterwards, When The   Lightning Alternated With The   Darkness, There 
 Appeared To Hermanric, In The   Part Of   The   Wall Where The   Birds Had Been 
 First Disturbed, A Small Red Gleam, Like A Spark Of   Fire Lodged In The 
 Surface Of   The   Structure.  Then This Was Lost; A Longer Obscurity Than 
 Usual Prevailed In The   Atmosphere, And When The   Goth Gazed Eagerly 
 Through The   Next Succession Of   Flashes, They Showed Him The   Momentary 
 And Doubtful Semblance Of   A Human Figure, Standing Erect On The   Stones 
 At The   Base Of   The   Wall. 
   
   
   
 Hermanric Started With Astonishment.  Again The   Lightning Ceased.  In 
 The Ardour Of   His Anxiety To Behold More, He Strained His Eyes With The 
 Vain Hope Of   Penetrating The   Obscurity Around Him.  The   Darkness Seemed 
 Interminable.  Once Again The   Lightning Flashed Brilliantly Out.  He 
 Looked Eagerly Towards The   Wall--The Figure Was Still There. 
   
   
   
 His Heart Throbbed Quickly Within Him, As He Stood Irresolute On The 
 Spot He Had Occupied Since The   First Peal Of   Thunder Had Struck Upon 
 His Ear.  Were The   Light And The   Man--One Seen But For An Instant, The 
 Other Still Perceptible--Mere Phantoms Of   His Erring Sight, Dazzled By 
 The Quick Recurrence Of   Atmospheric Changes Through Which It Had Acted? 
 Or Did He Indubitably Behold A Human Form, And Had He Really Observed A 
 Material Light?  Some Strange Treachery, Some Dangerous Mystery Might 
 Be Engendering In The   Besieged City, Which It Would Be His Duty To 
 Observe And Unmask.  He Drew His Sword, And, At The   Risk Of   Being 
 Observed Through The   Lightning, And Heard During The   Pauses In The 
 Thunder, By The   Sentinel On The   Wall, Resolutely Advanced To The   Very 
 Foot Of   The   Fortifications Of   Hostile Rome. 
   
   
   
 He Heard No Sound, Perceived No Light, Observed No Figure, As, After 
 Several Unsuccessful Attempts To Reach The   Place Where They Stood, He 
 At Length Paused At The   Loose Stones Which He Knew Were Heaped At The 
 Base Of   The   Wall.  The   Next Moment He Was So Close To It, That He Could 
 Pass His Sword-Point Over Parts Of   Its Rugged Surface.  He Had Scarcely 
 Examined Thus A Space Of   More Than Ten Yards, Before His Weapon 
 Encountered A Sharp, Jagged Edge; And A Sudden Presentiment Assured Him 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 13 
 Instantly That He Had Found The   Spot Where He Had Beheld The   Momentary 
 Light, And That He Stood On The   Same Stone Which Had Been Occupied By 
 The Figure Of   The   Man. 
   
   
   
   
 After An Instant's Hesitation, He Was About To Mount Higher On The 
 Loose Stones, And Examine More Closely The   Irregularity He Had Just 
 Discovered In The   Wall, When A Vivid Flash Of   Lightning, Unusually 
 Prolonged, Showed Him, Obstructing At Scarcely A Yard's Distance His 
 Onward Path, The   Figure He Had Already Distantly Beheld From The   Plain 
 Behind. 
   
   
   
 There Was Something Inexpressibly Fearful In His Viewless Vicinity, 
 During The   Next Moment Of   Darkness, To This Silent, Mysterious Form, So 
 Imperfectly Shown By The   Lightning That Quivered Over Its Half-Revealed 
 Proportions.  Every Pulse In The   Body Of   The   Goth Seemed To Pause As He 
 Stood, With Ready Weapon, Looking Into The   Gloomy Darkness, And Wafting 
 For The   Next Flash.  It Came, And Displayed To Him The   Man's Fierce 
 Eyes Glaring Steadily Down Upon His Face; Another Gleam, And He Beheld 
 His Haggard Finger Placed Upon His Lip In Token Of   Silence; A Third, 
 And He Saw The   Arm Of   The   Figure Pointing Towards The   Plain Behind Him; 
 And Then In The   Darkness That Followed, A Hot Breath Played Upon His 
 Ear, And A Voice Whispered To Him, Through A Pause In The   Rolling Of 
 The Thunder--'Follow Me.' 
   
   
   
 The Next Instant Hermanric Felt The   Momentary Contact Of   The   Man's 
 Body, As With Noiseless Steps He Passed Him On The   Stones.  It Was No 
 Time To Deliberate Or To Doubt.  He Followed Close Upon The   Stranger's 
 Footsteps, Gaining Glimpses Of   His Dark Form Moving Onward Before, 
 Whenever The   Lightning Briefly Illuminated The   Scene, Until They 
 Arrived At A Clump Of   Trees, Not Far Distant From The   Houses In The 
 Suburbs That Were Occupied By The   Goths Under His Own Command. 
   
   
   
 Here The   Stranger Paused Before The   Trunk Of   A Tree Which Stood Between 
 The City Wall And Himself, And Drew From Beneath His Ragged Cloak A 
 Small Lantern, Carefully Covered With A Piece Of   Cloth, Which He Now 
 Removed, And Holding The   Light High Above His Head, Regarded The   Goth 
 With A Steady And Anxious Scrutiny. 
   
   
   
 Hermanric Attempted To Address Him First, But The   Appearance Of   The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 14 
 Man, Barely Visible Though It Was By The   Feeble Light Of   His Lantern, 
 Was So Startling And Repulsive, That The   Half-Formed Words Died Away On 
 His Lips.  The   Face Of   The   Stranger Was Of   A Ghastly Paleness; His 
 Hollow Cheeks Were Seamed With Deep Wrinkles; And His Eyes Glared With 
 An Expression Of   Ferocious Suspicion.  One Of   His Arms Was Covered With 
 Old Bandages, Stiff With Coagulated Blood, And Hung Paralysed At His 
 Side. The   Hand That Held The   Light Trembled, So That The   Lantern 
 Containing It Vibrated Continuously In His Unsteady Grasp.  His Limbs 
 Were Lank And Shrivelled Almost To Deformity, And It Was With Evident 
 Difficulty That He Stood Upright On His Feet.  Every Member Of   His Body 
 Seemed To Be Wasting With A Gradual Death, While His Expression, Ardent 
 And Forbidding, Was Stamped With All The   Energy Of   Manhood, And All The 
 Daring Of   Youth. 
   
   
   
 It Was Ulpius!  The   Wall Was Passed!  The   Breach Was Made Good! 
   
   
   
 After A Protracted Examination Of   Hermanric's Countenance And Attire, 
 The Man, With An Imperious Expression, Strangely At Variance With His 
 Faltering Voice, Thus Addressed Him:-- 
   
   
   
 'You Are A Goth?' 
   
   
   
 'I Am,' Rejoined The   Young Chief; 'And You Are--' 
   
   
   
 'A Friend Of   The   Goths,' Was The   Quick Answer. 
   
   
   
 An Instant Of   Silence Followed.  The   Dialogue Was Then Again Begun By 
 The Stranger. 
   
   
   
 'What Brought You Alone To The   Base Of   The   Ramparts?' He Demanded, And 
 An Expression Of   Ungovernable Apprehension Shot From His Eyes As He 
 Spoke. 
   
   
   
 'I Saw The   Appearance Of   A Man In The   Gleam Of   The   Lightning,' Answered 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 15 
 Hermanric.  'I Approached It, To Assure Myself That My Eyes Had Not 
 Deluded Me, To Discover--' 
   
   
   
   
 'There Is But One Man Of   Your Nation Who Shall Discover Whence I Came 
 And What I Would Obtain,' Interrupted The   Stranger Fiercely; 'That Man 
 Is Alaric, Your King.' 
   
   
   
 Surprise, Indignation, And Contempt Appeared In The   Features Of   The 
 Goth, As He Listened To Such A Declaration From The   Helpless Outcast 
 Before Him.  The   Man Perceived It, And Motioning Him To Be Silent, 
 Again Addressed Him. 
   
   
   
 'Listen!' Cried He.  'I Have That To Reveal To The   Leader Of   Your 
 Forces Which Will Stir The   Heart Of   Every Man In Your Encampment, If 
 You Are Trusted With The   Secret After Your King Has Heard It From My 
 Lips! Do You Still Refuse To Guide Me To His Tent?' 
   
   
   
 Hermanric Laughed Scornfully. 
   
   
   
 'Look On Me,' Pursued The   Man, Bending Forward, And Fixing His Eyes 
 With Savage Earnestness Upon His Listener's Face.  'I Am Alone, Old, 
 Wounded, Weak,--A Stranger To Your Nation,--A Famished And A Helpless 
 Man! Should I Venture Into Your Camp--Should I Risk Being Slain For A 
 Roman By Your Comrades--Should I Dare The   Wrath Of   Your Imperious Ruler 
 Without A Cause?' 
   
   
   
 He Paused; And Then, Still Keeping His Eyes On The   Goth, Continued In 
 Lower And More Agitated Tones-- 
   
   
   
 'Deny Me Your Help, I Will Wander Through Your Camp Till I Find Your 
 King!  Imprison Me, Your Violence Will Not Open My Lips!  Slay Me, You 
 Will Gain Nothing By My Death!  But Aid Me, And To The   Latest Moment Of 
 Your Life You Will Rejoice In The   Deed!  I Have Words Of   Terrible 
 Import For Alaric's Ear,--A Secret In The   Gaining Of   Which I Have Paid 
 The Penalty Thus!' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 16 
 He Pointed To His Wounded Arm.  The   Solemnity Of   His Voice, The   Rough 
 Energy Of   His Words, The   Stern Determination Of   His Aspect, The 
 Darkness Of   The   Night That Was Round Them, The   Rolling Thunder That 
 Seemed To Join Itself To Their Discourse, The   Impressive Mystery Of 
 Their Meeting Under The   City Walls, All Began To Exert Their Powerful 
 And Different Influences Over The   Mind Of   The   Goth, Changing Insensibly 
 The Sentiments At First Inspired In Him By The   Man's Communications. 
 He Hesitated, And Looked Round Doubtfully Towards The   Lines Of   The   Camp. 
   
   
   
 There Was A Long Silence, Which Was Again Interrupted By The   Stranger. 
   
   
   
 'Guard Me, Chain Me, Mock At Me If You Will,' He Cried, With Raised 
 Voice And Flashing Eyes, 'But Lead Me To Alaric's Tent!  I Swear To You 
 By The   Thunder Pealing Over Our Heads, That The   Words I Would Speak To 
 Him Will Be More Precious In His Eyes Than The   Brightest Jewel He Could 
 Ravish From The   Coffers Of   Rome.' 
   
   
   
 Though Visibly Troubled And Impressed, Hermanric Still Hesitated. 
   
   
   
 'Do You Yet Delay?' Exclaimed The   Man, With Contemptuous Impatience. 
 'Stand Back!  I Will Pass On By Myself Into The   Very Heart Of   Your 
 Camp! I Entered On My Project Alone--I Will Work Its Fulfilment Without 
 Help! Stand Back!' 
   
   
   
 And He Moved Past Hermanric In The   Direction Of   The   Suburbs, With The 
 Same Look Of   Fierce Energy On His Withered Features Which Had Marked 
 Them So Strikingly At The   Outset Of   His Extraordinary Interview With 
 The Young Chieftain. 
   
   
   
   
 The Daring Devotion To His Purpose, The   Reckless Toiling After A 
 Dangerous And Doubtful Success, Manifested In The   Words And Actions Of 
 One So Feeble And Unaided As The   Stranger, Aroused In The   Goth That 
 Sentiment Of   Irrepressible Admiration Which The   Union Of   Moral And 
 Physical Courage Inevitably Awakens.  In Addition To The   Incentive To 
 Aid The   Man Thus Created, An Ardent Curiosity To Discover His Secret 
 Filled The   Mind Of   Hermanric, And Further Powerfully Inclined Him To 
 Conduct His Determined Companion Into Alaric's Presence--For By Such 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 17 
 Proceeding Only Could He Hope, After The   Man's Firm Declaration That He 
 Would Communicate In The   First Instance To No One But The   King, To 
 Penetrate Ultimately The   Object Of   His Mysterious Errand.  Animated, 
 Therefore, By Such Motives As These, He Called To The   Stranger To Stop, 
 And Briefly Communicated To Him His Willingness To Conduct Him 
 Instantly To The   Presence Of   The   Leader Of   The   Goths. 
   
   
   
 The Man Intimated By A Sign His Readiness To Accept The   Offer.  His 
 Physical Powers Were Now Evidently Fast Failing, But He Still Tottered 
 Painfully Onward As They Moved To The   Headquarters Of   The   Camp, 
 Muttering And Gesticulating To Himself Almost Incessantly.  Once Only 
 Did He Address His Conductor During Their Progress; And Then With A 
 Startling Abruptness Of   Manner, And In Tones Of   Vehement Anxiety And 
 Suspicion, He Demanded Of   The   Young Goth If He Had Ever Examined The 
 Surface Of   The   City Wall Before That Night.  Hermanric Replied In The 
 Negative; And They Then Proceeded In Perfect Silence. 
   
   
   
 Their Way Lay Through The   Line Of   Encampment To The   Westward, And Was 
 Imperfectly Lighted By The   Flame Of   An Occasional Torch Or The   Glow Of 
 A Distant Watch-Fire.  The   Thunder Had Diminished In Frequency, But Had 
 Increased In Volume; Faint Breaths Of   Wind Soared Up Fitfully From The 
 West, And Already A Few Raindrops Fell Slowly To The   Thirsty Earth. 
 The Warriors Not Actually On Duty At The   Different Posts Of   Observation 
 Had Retired To The   Shelter Of   Their Tents; None Of   The   Thousand Idlers 
 And Attendants Attached To The   Great Army Appeared At Their Usual 
 Haunts; Even The   Few Voices That Were Audible Sounded Distant And Low. 
 The Night-Scene Here, Among The   Ranks Of   The   Invaders Of   Italy, Was As 
 Gloomy And Repelling As On The   Solitary Plains Before The   Walls Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 Ere Long The   Stranger Perceived That They Had Reached A Part Of   The 
 Camp More Thickly Peopled, More Carefully Illuminated, More Strongly 
 Fortified, Than That Through Which They Had Already Passed; And The 
 Liquid, Rushing Sound Of   The   Waters Of   The   Rapid Tiber Now Caught His 
 Suspicious And Attentive Ear.  They Still Moved Onward A Few Yards; And 
 Then Paused Suddenly Before A Tent, Immediately Surrounded By Many 
 Others, And Occupied At All Its Approaches By Groups Of   Richly-Armed 
 Warriors. Here Hermanric Stopped An Instant To Parley With The 
 Sentinel, Who, After A Short Delay, Raised The   Outer Covering Of   The 
 Entrance To The   Tent, And The   Moment After The   Roman Adventurer Beheld 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 18 
 Himself Standing By His Conductor's Side In The   Presence Of   The   Gothic 
 King. 
   
   
   
 The Interior Of   Alaric's Tent Was Lined With Skins, And Illuminated By 
 One Small Lamp, Fastened To The   Centre Pole That Supported Its Roof. 
 The Only Articles Of   Furniture In The   Place Were Some Bundles Of   Furs 
 Flung Down Loosely On The   Ground, And A Large, Rudely-Carved Wooden 
 Chest, On Which Stood A Polished Human Skull, Hollowed Into A Sort Of 
 Clumsy Wine-Cup.  A Thoroughly Gothic Ruggedness Of   Aspect, A Stately 
 Northern Simplicity Prevailed Over The   Spacious Tent, And Was Indicated 
 Not Merely In Its Thick Shadows, Its Calm Lights, And Its Freedom From 
 Pomp And Glitter, But Even In The   Appearance And Employment Of   Its 
 Remarkable Occupant. 
   
   
   
   
 Alaric Was Seated Alone On The   Wooden Chest Already Described, 
 Contemplating With Bent Brow And Abstracted Gaze Some Old Runic 
 Characters, Traced Upon The   Carved Surface Of   A Brass And Silver 
 Shield, Full Five Feet High, Which Rested Against The   Side Of   The   Tent. 
 The Light Of   The   Lamp Falling Upon The   Polished Surface Of   The 
 Weapon--Rendered Doubly Bright By The   Dark Skins Behind It--Was 
 Reflected Back Upon The   Figure Of   The   Goth Chief.  It Glowed Upon His 
 Ample Cuirass; It Revealed His Firm Lips, Slightly Curled By An 
 Expression Of   Scornful Triumph; It Displayed The   Grand, Muscular 
 Formation Of   His Arm, Which Rested--Clothed In Tightly-Fitting 
 Leather--Upon His Knee; It Partly Brightened Over His Short, Light 
 Hair, And Glittered Steadily In His Fixed, Thoughtful, Manly Eyes, 
 Which Were Just Perceptible Beneath The   Partial Shadow Of   His 
 Contracted Brow; While It Left The   Lower Part Of   His Body And His Right 
 Hand, Which Was Supported On The   Head Of   A Huge, Shaggy Dog Couching At 
 His Side, Shadowed Almost Completely By The   Thick Skins Heaped 
 Confusedly Against The   Sides Of   The   Wooden Chest.  He Was So Completely 
 Absorbed In The   Contemplation Of   The   Runic Characters, Traced Among The 
 Carved Figures On His Immense Shield, That He Did Not Notice The   Entry 
 Of Hermanric And The   Stranger Until The   Growl Of   The   Watchful Dog 
 Suddenly Disturbed Him In His Occupation.  He Looked Up Instantly, His 
 Quick, Penetrating Glance Dwelling For A Moment On The   Young Chieftain, 
 And Then Resting Steadily And Inquiringly On His Companion's Feeble And 
 Mutilated Form. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 19 
 Accustomed To The   Military Brevity And Promptitude Exacted By His 
 Commander In All Communications Addressed To Him By His Inferiors, 
 Hermanric, Without Waiting To Be Interrogated Or Attempting To Preface 
 Or Excuse His Narrative, Shortly Related The   Conversation That Had 
 Taken Place Between The   Stranger And Himself On The   Plain Near The 
 Pincian Gate; And Then Waited Respectfully To Receive The   Commendation 
 Or Incur The   Rebuke Of   The   King, As The   Chance Of   The   Moment Might 
 Happen To Decide. 
   
   
   
 After Again Fixing His Eyes In Severe Scrutiny On The   Person Of   The 
 Roman, Alaric Spoke To The   Young Warrior In The   Gothic Language Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 'Leave The   Man With Me--Return To Your Post, And There Await Whatever 
 Commands It May Be Necessary That I Should Despatch To You To-Night.' 
   
   
   
 Hermanric Immediately Departed.  Then, Addressing The   Stranger For The 
 First Time, And Speaking In The   Latin Language, The   Gothic Leader 
 Briefly And Significantly Intimated To His Unknown Visitant That They 
 Were Now Alone. 
   
   
   
 The Man's Parched Lips Moved, Opened, Quivered; His Wild, Hollow Eyes 
 Brightened Till They Absolutely Gleamed, But He Seemed Incapable Of 
 Uttering A Word; His Features Became Horribly Convulsed, The   Foam 
 Gathered About His Lips, He Staggered Forward And Would Have Fallen To 
 The Ground, Had Not The   King Instantly Caught Him In His Strong Grasp, 
 And Placed Him On The   Wooden Chest That He Had Hitherto Occupied 
 Himself. 
   
   
   
 'Can A Starving Roman Have Escaped From The   Beleaguered City?' Muttered 
 Alaric, As He Took The   Skull Cup, And Poured Some Of   The   Wine It 
 Contained Down The   Stranger's Throat. 
   
   
   
 The Liquor Was Immediately Successful In Restoring Composure To The 
 Man's Features And Consciousness To His Mind.  He Raised Himself From 
 The Seat, Dashed Off The   Cold Perspiration That Overspread His 
 Forehead, And Stood Upright Before The   King--The Solitary, Powerless 
 Old Man Before The   Vigorous Lord Of   Thousands, In The   Midst Of   His 
 Warriors--Without A Tremor In His Steady Eye Or A Prayer For Protection 
 On His Haughty Lip. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 20 
   
   
 'I, A Roman,' He Began, 'Come From Rome, Against Which The   Invader Wars 
 With The   Weapon Of   Famine, To Deliver The   City, Her People, Her 
 Palaces, And Her Treasures Into The   Hands Of   Alaric The   Goth.' 
   
   
   
 The King Started, Looked On The   Speaker For A Moment, And Then Turned 
 From Him In Impatience And Contempt. 
   
   
   
 'I Lie Not,' Pursued The   Enthusiast, With A Calm Dignity That Affected 
 Even The   Hardy Sensibilities Of   The   Gothic Hero.  'Eye Me Again!  Could 
 I Come Starved, Shrivelled, Withered Thus From Any Place But Rome? 
 Since I Quitted The   City An Hour Has Hardly Passed, And By The   Way That 
 I Left It The   Forces Of   The   Goths May Enter It To-Night.' 
   
   
   
 'The Proof Of   The   Harvest Is In The   Quantity Of   The   Grain, Not In The 
 Tongue Of   The   Husbandman.  Show Me Your Open Gates, And I Will Believe 
 That You Have Spoken Truth,' Retorted The   King, With A Rough Laugh. 
   
   
   
 'I Betray The   City,' Resumed The   Man Sternly, 'But On One Condition; 
 Grant It Me, And--' 
   
   
   
 'I Will Grant You Your Life,' Interrupted Alaric Haughtily. 
   
   
   
   
 'My Life!' Cried The   Roman, And His Shrunken Form Seemed To Expand, And 
 His Tremulous Voice To Grow Firm And Steady In The   Very Bitterness Of 
 His Contempt, As He Spoke.  'My Life!  I Ask It Not Of   Your Power!  The 
 Wreck Of   My Body Is Scarce Strong Enough To Preserve It To Me A Single 
 Day!  I  Have No Home, No Loves, No Friends, No Possessions!  I Live In 
 Rome A Solitary In The   Midst Of   The   Multitude, A Pagan In A City Of 
 Apostates!  What Is My Life To Me?  I Cherish It But For The   Service Of 
 The Gods, Whose Instruments Of   Vengeance Against The   Nation That Has 
 Denied Them I Would Make You And Your Hosts!  If You Slay Me, It Is A 
 Sign To Me From Them That I Am Worthless In Their Cause. I Shall Die 
 Content.' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 21 
 He Ceased.  The   King's Manner, As He Listened To Him, Gradually Lost 
 The Bluntness And Carelessness That Had Hitherto Characterised It, And 
 Assumed An Attention And A Seriousness More In Accordance With His High 
 Station And Important Responsibilities.  He Began To Regard The 
 Stranger As No Common Renegade, No Ordinary Spy, No Shallow Impostor, 
 Who Might Be Driven From His Tent With Disdain; But As A Man Important 
 Enough To Be Heard, And Ambitious Enough To Be Distrusted. 
 Accordingly, He Resumed The   Seat From Which He Had Risen During The 
 Interview, And Calmly Desired His New Ally To Explain The   Condition, On 
 The Granting Of   Which Depended The   Promised Betrayal Of   The   City Of 
 Rome.            
   
   
   
 The Pain-Worn And Despondent Features Of   Ulpius Became Animated By A 
 Glow Of   Triumph As He Heard The   Sudden Mildness And Moderation Of   The 
 King's Demand; He Raised His Head Proudly, And Advanced A Few Steps, As 
 He Thus Loudly And Abruptly Resumed:-- 
   
   
   
 'Assure To Me The   Overthrow Of   The   Christian Churches, The 
 Extermination Of   The   Christian Priests, And The   Universal Revival Of 
 The Worship Of   The   Gods, And This Night Shall Make You Master Of   The 
 Chief City Of   The   Empire You Are Labouring To Subvert!' 
   
   
   
 The Boldness, The   Comprehensiveness, The   Insanity Of   Wickedness 
 Displayed In Such A Proposition, And Emanating From Such A Source, So 
 Astounded The   Mind Of   Alaric, As To Deprive Him For The   Moment Of 
 Speech.  The   Stranger, Perceiving His Temporary Inability To Answer 
 Him, Broke The   Silence Which Ensued And Continued-- 
   
   
   
 'Is My Condition A Hard One?  A Conqueror Is All-Powerful; He Can 
 Overthrow The   Worship, As He Can Overthrow The   Government Of   A Nation. 
 What Matters It To You, While Empire, Renown, And Treasure Are Yours, 
 What Deities The   People Adore?  Is It A Great Price To Pay For An Easy 
 Conquest, To Make A Change Which Threatens Neither Your Power, Your 
 Fame, Nor Your Wealth?  Do You Marvel That I  Desire From You Such A 
 Revolution As This?  I Was Born For The   Gods, In Their Service I 
 Inherited Rank And Renown, For Their Cause I Have Suffered Degradation 
 And Woe, For Their Restoration I Will Plot, Combat, Die!  Assure Me 
 Then By Oath, That With A New Rule You Will Erect Our Ancient Worship, 
 And Through My Secret Inlet To The   City I Will Introduce Men Enough Of 
 The Goths To Murder With Security The   Sentinels At The   Guard-Houses, 
 And Open The   Gates Of   Rome To The   Numbers Of   Your Whole Invading 
 Forces. Think Not To Despise The   Aid Of   A Man Unprotected And Unknown! 
 The Citizens Will Never Yield To Your Blockade; You Shrink From Risking 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 22 
 The Dangers Of   An Assault; The   Legions Of   Ravenna Are Reported On Their 
 Way Hitherward.  Outcast As I Am, I Tell It To You Here, In The   Midst 
 Of Your Camp--Your Speediest Assurance Of   Success Rests On My Discovery 
 And On Me!' 
   
   
   
 The King Started Suddenly From His Seat.  'What Fool Or Madman!' He 
 Cried, Fixing His Eyes In Furious Scorn And Indignation On The 
 Stranger's Face, 'Prates To Me About The   Legions Of   Ravenna And The 
 Dangers Of   An Assault!  Think You, Renegade, That Your City Could Have 
 Resisted Me Had I Chosen To Storm It On The   First Day When I Encamped 
 Before Its Walls?  Know You That Your Effeminate Soldiery Have Laid 
 Aside The   Armour Of   Their Ancestors, Because Their Puny Bodies Are Too 
 Feeble To Bear Its Weight, And That The   Half Of   My Army Here Trebles 
 The Whole Number Of   The   Guards Of   Rome?  Now, While You Stand Before 
 Me, I Have But To Command, And The   City Shall Be Annihilated With Fire 
 And Sword, Without The   Aid Of   One Of   The   Herd Of   Traitors Cowering 
 Beneath The   Shelter Of   Its Ill-Defended Walls!' 
   
   
   
   
 As Alaric Spoke Thus, Some Invisible Agency Seemed To Crush, Body And 
 Mind, The   Lost Wretch Whom He Addressed.  The   Shock Of   Such An Answer 
 As He Now Heard Seemed To Strike Him Idiotic, As A Flash Of   Lightning 
 Strikes With Blindness.  He Regarded The   King With A Bewildered Stare, 
 Waving His Hand Tremulously Backwards And Forwards Before His Face, As 
 If To Clear Some Imaginary Darkness Off His Eyes; Then His Arm Fell 
 Helpless By His Side, His Head Drooped Upon His Breast, And He Moaned 
 Out In Low, Vacant Tones, 'The Restoration Of   The   Gods--That Is The 
 Condition Of   Conquest--The Restoration Of   The   Gods!' 
   
   
   
 'I Come Not Hither To Be The   Tool Of   A Frantic And Forgotten 
 Priesthood,' Cried Alaric Disdainfully.  'Wherever I Meet With Your 
 Accursed Idols I Will Melt Them Down Into Armour For My Warriors And 
 Shoes For My Horses; I Will Turn Your Temples Into Granaries And Cut 
 Your Images Of   Wood Into Billets For The   Watchfires Of   My Hosts!' 
   
   
   
 'Slay Me And Be Silent!' Groaned The   Man, Staggering Back Against The 
 Side Of   The   Tent, And Shrinking Under The   Merciless Words Of   The   Goth 
 Like A Slave Under The   Lash. 
   
   
   
 'I Leave The   Shedding Of   Such Blood As Yours To Your Fellow Romans,' 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 23 
 Answered The   King; 'They Alone Are Worthy Of   The   Deed.' 
   
   
   
 No Syllable Of   Reply Now Escaped The   Stranger's Lips, And After An 
 Interval Of   Silence Alaric Resumed, In Tones Divested Of   Their Former 
 Fiery Irritation, And Marked By A Solemn Earnestness That Conferred 
 Irresistible Dignity And Force On Every Word That He Uttered. 
   
   
   
 'Behold The   Characters Engraven There!' Said He, Pointing To The 
 Shield; 'They Trace The   Curse Denounced By Odin Against The   Great 
 Oppressor, Rome!  Once These Words Made Part Of   The   Worship Of   Our 
 Fathers; The   Worship Has Long Since Vanished, But The   Words Remain; 
 They Seal The   Eternal Hatred Of   The   People Of   The   North To The   People 
 Of The   South; They Contain The   Spirit Of   The   Great Destiny That Has 
 Brought Me To The   Walls Of   Rome.  Citizen Of   A Fallen Empire, The 
 Measure Of   Your Crimes Is Full!  The   Voice Of   A New Nation Calls 
 Through Me For The   Freedom Of   The   Earth, Which Was Made For Man, And 
 Not For Romans!  The   Rule That Your Ancestors Won By Strength Their 
 Posterity Shall No Longer Keep By Fraud.  For Two Hundred Years, Hollow 
 And Unlasting Truces Have Alternated With Long And Bloody Wars Between 
 Your People And Mine. Remembering This, Remembering The   Wrongs Of   The 
 Goths In Their Settlements In Thrace, The   Murder Of   The   Gothic Youths 
 In The   Towns Of   Asia, The   Massacre Of   The   Gothic Hostages In Aquileia, 
 I Come--Chosen By The   Supernatural Decrees Of   Heaven--To Assure The 
 Freedom And Satisfy The   Wrath Of   My Nation, By Humbling At Its Feet The 
 Power Of   Tyrannic Rome!  It Is Not For Battle And Bloodshed That I Am 
 Encamped Before Yonder Walls.  It Is To Crush To The   Earth, By Famine 
 And Woe, The   Pride Of   Your People And The   Spirit Of   Your Rulers; To 
 Tear From You Your Hidden Wealth, And To Strip You Of   Your Boasted 
 Honour; To Overthrow By Oppression The   Oppressors Of   The   World; To Deny 
 You The   Glories Of   A Resistance, And To Impose On You The   Shame Of   A 
 Submission.  It Is For This That I Now Abstain From Storming Your City, 
 To Encircle It With An Immovable Blockade!' 
   
   
   
 As The   Declaration Of   His Great Mission Burst Thus From The   Lips Of   The 
 Gothic King, The   Spirit Of   His Lofty Ambition Seemed To Diffuse Itself 
 Over His Outward Form.  His Noble Stature, His Fine Proportions, His 
 Commanding Features, Became Invested With A Simple, Primeval Grandeur. 
 Contrasted As He Now Was With The   Shrunken Figure Of   The   Spirit-Broken 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 24 
 Stranger, He Looked Almost Sublime. 
   
   
   
   
 A Succession Of   Protracted Shuddering Ran Through The   Pagan's Frame, 
 But He Neither Wept Nor Spoke.  The   Unavailing Defence Of   The   Temple Of 
 Serapis, The   Defeated Revolution At Alexandria, And The   Abortive 
 Intrigue With Vetranio, Were Now Rising On His Memory, To Heighten The 
 Horror Of   His Present And Worst Overthrow.  Every Circumstance 
 Connected With His Desperate Passage Through The   Rifted Wall Revived, 
 Fearfully Vivid, On His Mind.  He Remembered All The   Emotions Of   His 
 First Night's Labour In The   Darkness, All The   Miseries Of   His Second 
 Night's Torture Under The   Fallen Brickwork, All The   Woe, Danger, And 
 Despondency That Accompanied His Subsequent Toil--Persevered In Under 
 The Obstructions Of   A Famine-Weakened Body And A Helpless Arm--Until He 
 Passed, In Delusive Triumph, The   Last Of   The   Hindrances In The 
 Long-Laboured Breach.  One After Another These Banished Recollections 
 Returned To His Memory As He Listened To Alaric's Rebuking 
 Words--Reviving Past Infirmities, Opening Old Wounds, Inflicting New 
 Lacerations.  But, Saving The   Shudderings That Still Shook His Body, No 
 Outward Witness Betrayed The   Inward Torment That Assailed Him.  It Was 
 Too Strong For Human Words, Too Terrible For Human Sympathy;--He 
 Suffered It In Brute Silence. Monstrous As Was His Plot, The   Moral 
 Punishment Of   Its Attempted Consummation Was Severe Enough To Be Worthy 
 Of The   Projected Crime. 
   
   
   
 After Watching The   Man For A Few Minutes More, With A Glance Of 
 Pitiless Disdain, Alaric Summoned One Of   The   Warriors In Attendance; 
 And, Having Previously Commanded Him To Pass The   Word To The   Sentinels, 
 Authorising The   Stranger's Free Passage Through The   Encampment, He Then 
 Turned, And, For The   Last Time, Addressed Him As Follows:-- 
   
   
   
 'Return To Rome, Through The   Hole Whence, Reptile-Like, You 
 Emerged!--And Feed Your Starving Citizens With The   Words You Have Heard 
 In The   Barbarian's Tent!' 
   
   
   
 The Guard Approached, Led Him From The   Presence Of   The   King, Issued The 
 Necessary Directions To The   Sentinels, And Left Him To Himself.  Once 
 He Raised His Eyes In Despairing Appeal To The   Heaven That Frowned Over 
 His Head; But Still, No Word, Or Tear, Or Groan, Escaped Him.  He Moved 
 Slowly On Through The   Thick Darkness; And Turning His Back On The   City, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 15 (  The City And The Gods ) Pg 25 
 Passed, Careless Whither He Strayed, Into The   Streets Of   The   Desolate 
 And Dispeopled Suburbs. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 16 ( Love Meetings ) Pg 26 
   
 Who That Has Looked On A Threatening And Tempestuous Sky, Has Not Felt 
 The Pleasure Of   Discovering Unexpectedly A Small Spot Of   Serene Blue, 
 Still Shining Among The   Stormy Clouds?  The   More Unwillingly The   Eye 
 Has Wandered Over The   Gloomy Expanse Of   The   Rest Of   The   Firmament, The 
 More Gladly Does It Finally Rest On The   Little Oasis Of   Light Which 
 Meets At Length Its Weary Gaze, And Which, When It Was Dispersed Over 
 The Whole Heaven, Was Perhaps Only Briefly Regarded With A Careless 
 Glance. Contrasted With The   Dark And Mournful Hues Around It, Even That 
 Small Spot Of   Blue Gradually Acquires The   Power Of   Investing The   Wider 
 And Sadder Prospect With A Certain Interest And Animation That It Did 
 Not Before Possess--Until The   Mind Recognises In The   Surrounding 
 Atmosphere Of   Storm An Object Adding Variety To The   View--A Spectacle 
 Whose Mournfulness May Interest As Well As Repel. 
   
   
   
 Was It With Sensations Resembling These (Applied, However, Rather To 
 The Mind Than To The   Eye) That The   Reader Perused Those Pages Devoted 
 To Hermanric And Antonina?  Does The   Happiness There Described Now 
 Appear To Him To Beam Through The   Stormy Progress Of   The   Narrative As 
 The Spot Of   Blue Beams Through The   Gathering Clouds?  Did That Small 
 Prospect Of   Brightness Present Itself, At The   Time, Like A Garden Of 
 Repose Amid The   Waste Of   Fierce Emotions Which Encompassed It?  Did It 
 Encourage Him, When Contrasted With What Had Gone Before, To Enter On 
 The Field Of   Gloomier Interest Which Was To Follow?  If, Indeed, It Has 
 Thus Affected Him, If He Can Still Remember The   Scene At The   Farm-House 
 Beyond The   Suburbs With Emotions Such As These, He Will Not Now Be 
 Unwilling To Turn Again For A Moment From The   Gathering Clouds To The 
 Spot Of   Blue,--He Will Not Deny Us An Instant's Digression From Ulpius 
 And The   City Of   Famine To Antonina And The   Lonely Plains. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 16 ( Love Meetings ) Pg 27 
   
 During The   Period That Has Elapsed Since We Left Her, Antonina Has 
 Remained Secure In Her Solitude, Happy In Her Well-Chosen Concealment. 
 The Few Straggling Goths Who At Rare Intervals Appeared In The 
 Neighbourhood Of   Her Sanctuary Never Intruded On Its Peaceful Limits. 
 The Sight Of   The   Ravaged Fields And Emptied Granaries Of   The   Deserted 
 Little Property Sufficed Invariably To Turn Their Marauding Steps In 
 Other Directions.  Day By Day Ran Smoothly And Swiftly Onwards For The 
 Gentle Usurper Of   The   Abandoned Farm-House.  In The   Narrow Round Of   Its 
 Gardens And Protecting Woods Was Comprised For Her The   Whole Circle Of 
 The Pleasures And Occupations Of   Her New Life. 
   
   
   
   
 The Simple Stores Left In The   House, The   Fruits And Vegetables To Be 
 Gathered In The   Garden, Sufficed Amply For Her Support.  The   Pastoral 
 Solitude Of   The   Place Had In It A Quiet, Dreamy Fascination, A Novelty, 
 An Unwearying Charm, After The   Austere Loneliness To Which Her Former 
 Existence Had Been Subjected In Rome.  And When Evening Came, And The 
 Sun Began To Burnish The   Tops Of   The   Western Tress, Then, After The 
 Calm Emotions Of   The   Solitary Day, Came The   Hour Of   Absorbing Cares And 
 Happy Expectations--Ever The   Same, Yet Ever Delighting And Ever New. 
 Then The   Rude Shutters Were Carefully Closed; The   Open Door Was Shut 
 And Barred; The   Small Light--Now Invisible To The   World Without--Was 
 Joyfully Kindled; And Then, The   Mistress And Author Of   These 
 Preparations Resigned Herself To Await, With Pleased Anxiety, The 
 Approach Of   The   Guest For Whose Welcome They Were Designed. 
   
   
   
 And Never Did She Expect The   Arrival Of   That Treasured Companion In 
 Vain.  Hermanric Remembered His Promise To Repair Constantly To The 
 Farm-House, And Performed It With All The   Constancy Of   Love And All The 
 Enthusiasm Of   Youth.  When The   Sentinels Under His Command Were 
 Arranged In Their Order Of   Watching For The   Night, And The   Trust 
 Reposed In Him By His Superiors Exempted His Actions From 
 Superintendence During The   Hours Of   Darkness That Followed, He Left The 
 Camp, Passed Through The   Desolate Suburbs, And Gained The   Dwelling 
 Where The   Young Roman Awaited Him--Returning Before Daybreak To Receive 
 The Communications Regularly Addressed To Him, At That Hour, By His 
 Inferior In The   Command. 
   
   
   
 Thus, False To His Nation, Yet True To The   New Egeria Of   His Thoughts 
 And Actions--Traitor To The   Requirements Of   Vengeance And War, Yet 
 Faithful To The   Interests Of   Tranquility And Love--Did He Seek, Night 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 16 ( Love Meetings ) Pg 28 
 After Night, Antonina's Presence.  His Passion, Though It Denied Him To 
 His Warrior Duties, Wrought Not Deteriorating Change In His 
 Disposition. All That It Altered In Him It Altered Nobly.  It Varied 
 And Exalted His Rude Emotions, For It Was Inspired, Not Alone By The 
 Beauty And Youth That He Saw, But By The   Pure Thoughts, The   Artless 
 Eloquence That He Heard.  And She--The Forsaken Daughter, The   Source 
 Whence The   Northern Warrior Derived Those New And Higher Sensations 
 That Had Never Animated Him Until Now--Regarded Her Protector, Her 
 First Friend And Companion, As Her First Love, With A Devotion Which, 
 In Its Mingled And Exalted Nature, May Be Imagined By The   Mind, But Can 
 Be But Imperfectly Depicted By The   Pen.  It Was A Devotion Created Of 
 Innocence And Gratitude, Of   Joy And Sorrow, Of   Apprehension And Hope. 
 It Was Too Fresh, Too Unworldly To Own Any Upbraidings Of   Artificial 
 Shame, Any Self-Reproaches Of   Artificial Propriety.  It Resembled In 
 Its Essence, Though Not In Its Application, The   Devotion Of   The   First 
 Daughters Of   The   Fall To Their Brother-Lords. 
   
   
   
 But It Is Now Time That We Return To The   Course Of   Our Narrative; 
 Although, Ere We Again Enter On The   Stirring And Rapid Present, It Will 
 Be Necessary For A Moment More To Look Back In Another Direction To The 
 Eventful Past. 
   
   
   
 But It Is Not On Peace, Beauty, And Pleasure That Our Observation Now 
 Fixes Itself. It Is To Anger, Disease, And Crime--To The   Unappeasable 
 And Unwomanly Goisvintha, That We Now Revert. 
   
   
   
 Since The   Day When The   Violence Of   Her Conflicting Emotions Had 
 Deprived Her Of   Consciousness, At The   Moment Of   Her Decisive Triumph 
 Over The   Scruples Of   Hermanric And The   Destiny Of   Antonina, A Raging 
 Fever Had Visited On Her Some Part Of   Those Bitter Sufferings That She 
 Would Fain Have Inflicted On Others.  Part Of   The   Time She Lay In A 
 Raving Delirium; Part Of   The   Time In Helpless Exhaustion; But She Never 
 Forgot, Whatever The   Form Assumed By Her Disease, The   Desperate Purpose 
 In The   Pursuit Of   Which She Had First Incurred It.  Slowly And 
 Doubtfully Her Vigour At Length Returned To Her, And With It 
 Strengthened And Increased The   Fierce Ambition Of   Vengeance That 
 Absorbed Her Lightest Thoughts And Governed Her Most Careless Actions. 
   
   
   
   
 Report Informed Her Of   The   New Position, On The   Line Of   Blockade, On 
 Which Hermanric Was Posted, And Only Enumerated As The   Companions Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 16 ( Love Meetings ) Pg 29 
 His Sojourn The   Warriors Sent Thither Under His Command. But, Though 
 Thus Persuaded Of   The   Separation Of   Antonina And The   Goth, Her 
 Ignorance Of   The   Girl's Fate Rankled Unintermittingly In Her Savage 
 Heart.  Doubtful Whether She Had Permanently Reclaimed Hermanric To The 
 Interests Of   Vengeance And Bloodshed; Vaguely Suspecting That He Might 
 Have Informed Himself In Her Absence Of   Antonina's Place Of   Refuge Or 
 Direction Of   Flight; Still Resolutely Bent On Securing The   Death Of   Her 
 Victim, Wherever She Might Have Strayed, She Awaited With Trembling 
 Eagerness That Day Of   Restoration To Available Activity And Strength 
 Which Would Enable Her To Resume Her Influence Over The   Goth, And Her 
 Machinations Against The   Safety Of   The   Fugitive Girl. The   Time Of   Her 
 Final And Long-Expected Recovery, Was The   Very Day Preceding The   Stormy 
 Night We Have Already Described, And Her First Employment Of   Her 
 Renewed Energy Was To Send Word To The   Young Goth Of   Her Intention Of 
 Seeking Him At His Encampment Ere The   Evening Closed. 
   
   
   
 It Was This Intimation Which Caused The   Inquietude Mentioned As 
 Characteristic Of   The   Manner Of   Hermanric At The   Commencement Of   The 
 Preceding Chapter.  The   Evening There Described Was The   First That Saw 
 Him Deprived, Through The   Threatened Visit Of   Goisvintha, Of   The 
 Anticipation Of   Repairing To Antonina, As Had Been His Wont, Under 
 Cover Of   The   Night; For To Slight His Kinswoman's Ominous Message Was 
 To Risk The   Most Fatal Of   Discoveries.  Trusting To The   Delusive 
 Security Of   Her Sickness, He Had Hitherto Banished The   Unwelcome 
 Remembrance Of   Her Existence From His Thoughts.  But, Now That She Was 
 Once More Capable Of   Exertion And Of   Crime, He Felt That If He Would 
 Preserve The   Secret Of   Antonina's Hiding-Place And The   Security Of 
 Antonina's Life, He Must Remain To Oppose Force To Force And Stratagem 
 To Stratagem, When Goisvintha Sought Him At His Post, Even At The   Risk 
 Of Inflicting, By His Absence From The   Farm-House, All The   Pangs Of 
 Anxiety And Apprehension On The   Lonely Girl. 
   
   
   
 Absorbed In Such Reflections As These, Longing To Depart, Yet 
 Determined To Remain, He Impatiently Awaited Goisvintha's Approach, 
 Until The   Rising Of   The   Storm With Its Mysterious And All-Engrossing 
 Train Of   Events Forced His Thoughts And Actions Into A New Channel. 
 When, However, His Interviews With The   Stranger And The   Gothic King 
 Were Past, And He Had Returned As He Had Been Bidden To His Appointed 
 Sojourn In The   Camp, His Old Anxieties, Displaced But Not Destroyed, 
 Resumed Their Influence Over Him.  He Demanded Eagerly Of   His Comrades 
 If Goisvintha Had Arrived In His Absence, And Received The   Same Answer 
 In The   Negative From Each. 
   
   
   
 As He Now Listened To The   Melancholy Rising Of   The   Wind And The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 16 ( Love Meetings ) Pg 30 
 Increasing Loudness Of   The   Thunder, To The   Shrill Cries Of   The   Distant 
 Night-Birds Hurrying To Shelter, Emotions Of   Mournfulness And Awe 
 Possessed Themselves Of   His Heart.  He Now Wondered That Any Events, 
 However Startling, However Appalling, Should Have Had The   Power To Turn 
 His Mind For A Moment From The   Dreary Contemplations That Had Engaged 
 It At The   Close Of   Day.  He Thought Of   Antonina, Solitary And Helpless, 
 Listening To The   Tempest In Affright, And Watching Vainly For His 
 Long-Delayed Approach.  His Fancy Arrayed Before Him Dangers, Plots, 
 And Crimes, Robed In All The   Horrible Exaggerations Of   A Dream.  Even 
 The Quick, Monotonous Dripping Of   The   Rain-Drops Outside Aroused Within 
 Him Dark And Indefinable Forebodings Of   Ill.  The   Passion That Had 
 Hitherto Created For Him New Pleasures Was Now Fulfilling The   Other 
 Half Of   Its Earthly Mission, And Causing Him New Pains. 
   
   
   
 As The   Storm Strengthened, As The   Darkness Lowered Deeper And Deeper, 
 So Did His Inquietude Increase, Until At Length It Mastered The   Last 
 Feeble Resistance Of   His Wavering Firmness.  Persuading Himself That, 
 After Having Delayed So Long, Goisvintha Would Now Refrain From Seeking 
 Him Until The   Morrow, And That All Communications From Alaric, Had They 
 Been Despatched, Would Have Reached Him Ere This; Unable Any Longer To 
 Combat His Anxiety For The   Safety Of   Antonina; Determined To Risk The 
 Worst Possibilities Rather Than Be Absent At Such A Time Of   Tempest And 
 Peril From The   Farm-House, He Made A Last Visit To The   Stations Of   The 
 Watchful Sentinels, And Quitted The   Camp For The   Night. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 31 
   
 More Than An Hour After Hermanric Had Left The   Encampment, A Man 
 Hurriedly Entered The   House Set Apart For The   Young Chieftain's 
 Occupation.  He Made No Attempt To Kindle Either Light Or Fire, But Sat 
 Down In The   Principal Apartment, Occasionally Whispering To Himself In 
 A Strange And Barbarous Tongue. 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 32 
 He Had Remained But A Short Time In Possession Of   His Comfortless 
 Solitude, When He Was Intruded On By A Camp-Follower, Bearing A Small 
 Lamp, And Followed Closely By A Woman, Who, As He Started Up And 
 Confronted Her, Announced Herself As Hermanric's Kinswoman, And Eagerly 
 Demanded An Interview With The   Goth. 
   
   
   
 Haggard And Ghastly Though It Was From Recent Suffering And Long 
 Agitation, The   Countenance Of   Goisvintha (For It Was She) Appeared 
 Absolutely Attractive As It Was Now Opposed By The   Lamp-Light To The 
 Face And Figure Of   The   Individual She Addressed.  A Flat Nose, A 
 Swarthy Complexion, Long, Coarse, Tangled Locks Of   Deep Black Hair, A 
 Beardless, Retreating Chin, And Small, Savage, Sunken Eyes, Gave A 
 Character Almost Bestial To This Man's Physiognomy.  His Broad, Brawny 
 Shoulders Overhung A Form That Was As Low In Stature As It Was Athletic 
 In Build; You Looked On Him And Saw The   Sinews Of   A Giant Strung In The 
 Body Of   A Dwarf.  And Yet This Deformed Hercules Was No Solitary Error 
 Of Nature--No Extraordinary Exception To His Fellow-Beings, But The 
 Actual Type Of   A Whole Race, Stunted And Repulsive As Himself.  He Was 
 A Hun. 
   
   
   
 This Savage People, The   Terror Even Of   Their Barbarous Neighbours, 
 Living Without Government, Laws, Or Religion, Possessed But One Feeling 
 In Common With The   Human Race--The Instinct Of   War.  Their Historical 
 Career May Be Said To Have Begun With Their Early Conquests In China, 
 And To Have Proceeded In Their First Victories Over The   Goths, Who 
 Regarded Them As Demons, And Fled At Their Approach.  The   Hostilities 
 Thus Commenced Between The   Two Nations Were At Length Suspended By The 
 Temporary Alliance Of   The   Conquered People With The   Empire, And 
 Subsequently Ceased In The   Gradual Fusion Of   The   Interests Of   Each In 
 One Animating Spirit--Detestation Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 By This Bond Of   Brotherhood, The   Goths And The   Huns Became Publicly 
 United, Though Still Privately At Enmity--For The   One Nation Remembered 
 Its Former Defeats As Vividly As The   Other Remembered Its Former 
 Victories.  With Various Disasters, Dissensions, And Successes, They 
 Ran Their Career Of   Battle And Rapine, Sometimes Separate, Sometimes 
 Together, Until The   Period Of   Our Romance, When Alaric's Besieging 
 Forces Numbered Among The   Ranks Of   Their Barbarian Auxiliaries A Body 
 Of Huns, Who, Unwillingly Admitted To The   Title Of   Gothic Allies, Were 
 Dispersed About The   Army In Subordinate Stations, And Of   Whom The 
 Individual Above Described Was One Of   Those Contemptuously Favoured By 
 Promotion To An Inferior Command, Under Hermanric, As A Gothic Chief. 
   
   
   
 An Expression Of   Aversion, But Not Of   Terror, Passed Over Goisvintha's 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 33 
 Worn Features As She Approached The   Barbarian, And Repeated Her Desire 
 To Be Conducted To Hermanric's Presence.  For The   Second Time, However, 
 The Man Gave Her No Answer.  He Burst Into A Shrill, Short Laugh, And 
 Shook His Huge Shoulders In Clumsy Derision. 
   
   
   
 The Woman's Cheek Reddened For An Instant, And Then Turned Again To 
 Livid Paleness As She Thus Resumed-- 
   
   
   
 'I Came Not Hither To Be Mocked By A Barbarian, But To Be Welcomed By A 
 Goth!  Again I Ask You, Where Is My Kinsman, Hermanric?' 
   
   
   
 'Gone!' Cried The   Hun.  And His Laughter Grew More Wild And Discordant 
 As He Spoke. 
   
   
   
 A Sudden Tremor Ran Through Goisvintha's Frame As She Marked The   Manner 
 Of The   Barbarian And Heard His Reply.  Repressing With Difficulty Her 
 Anger And Agitation, She Continued, With Apprehension In Her Eyes And 
 Entreaty In Her Tones-- 
   
   
   
 'Whither Has He Gone?  Wherefore Has He Departed?  I Know That The   Hour 
 I Appointed For Our Meeting Here Has Long Passed; But I Have Suffered A 
 Sickness Of   Many Weeks, And When, At Evening, I Prepared To Set Forth, 
 My Banished Infirmities Seemed Suddenly To Return To Me Again.  I Was 
 Borne To My Bed.  But, Though The   Woman Who Succoured Me Bid Me Remain 
 And Repose, I Found Strength In The   Night To Escape Them, And Through 
 Storm And Darkness To Come Hither Alone--For I Was Determined, Though I 
 Should Perish For It, To Seek The   Presence Of   Hermanric, As I Had 
 Promised By My Messengers.  You, That Are The   Companion Of   His Watch, 
 Must Know Whither He Is Gone.  Go To Him, And Tell Him What I Have 
 Spoken.  I Will Await His Return!' 
   
   
   
   
 'His Business Is Secret,' Sneered The   Hun.  'He Has Departed, But 
 Without Telling Me Whither.  How Should I, That Am A Barbarian, Know 
 The Whereabouts Of   An Illustrious Goth?  It Is Not For Me To Know His 
 Actions, But To Obey His Words!' 
   
   
   
 'Jeer Not About Your Obedience,' Returned Goisvintha With Breathless 
 Eagerness.  'I Say To You Again, You Know Whither He Is Gone, And You 
 Must Tell Me For What He Has Departed.  You Obey Him--There Is Money To 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 34 
 Make You Obey Me!' 
   
   
   
 'When I Said His Business Was Secret, I Lied Not,' Said The   Hun, 
 Picking Up With Avidity The   Coins She Flung To Him--'But He Has Not 
 Kept It Secret From Me!  The   Huns Are Cunning!  Aha, Ugly And Cunning!' 
   
   
   
 Suspicion, The   Only Refined Emotion In A Criminal Heart, Half 
 Discovered To Goisvintha, At This Moment, The   Intelligence That Was Yet 
 To Be Communicated.  No Word, However, Escaped Her, While She Signed 
 The Barbarian To Proceed. 
   
   
   
 'He Has Gone To A Farm-House On The   Plains Beyond The   Suburbs Behind 
 Us. He Will Not Return Till Daybreak,' Continued The   Hun, Tossing His 
 Money Carelessly In His Great, Horny Hands. 
   
   
   
 'Did You See Him Go?' Gasped The   Woman. 
   
   
   
 'I Tracked Him To The   House,' Returned The   Barbarian.  'For Many Nights 
 I Watched And Suspected Him--To-Night I Saw Him Depart.  It Is But A 
 Short Time Since I Returned From Following Him.  The   Darkness Did Not 
 Delude Me; The   Place Is On The   High-Road From The   Suburbs--The First 
 By-Path To The   Westward Leads To Its Garden Gate.  I Know It!  I Have 
 Discovered His Secret!  I Am More Cunning Than He!' 
   
   
   
 'For What Did He Seek The   Farm-House At Night?' Demanded Goisvintha 
 After An Interval, During Which She Appeared To Be Silently Fixing The 
 Man's Last Speech In Her Memory; 'Are You Cunning Enough To Tell Me 
 That?' 
   
   
   
 'For What Do Men Venture Their Safety And Their Lives, Their Money And 
 Their Renown?' Laughed The   Barbarian.  'They Venture Them For Women! 
 There Is A Girl At The   Farm-House; I Saw Her At The   Door When The   Chief 
 Went In!' 
   
   
   
 He Paused; But Goisvintha Made No Answer.  Remembering That She Was 
 Descended From A Race Of   Women Who Slew Their Wounded Husbands, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 35 
 Brothers, And Sons With Their Own Hands When They Sought Them After 
 Battle Dishonoured By A Defeat; Remembering That The   Fire Of   The   Old 
 Ferocity Of   Such Ancestors As These Still Burnt At Her Heart; 
 Remembering All That She Had Hoped From Hermanric, And Had Plotted 
 Against Antonina; Estimating In All Its Importance The   Shock Of   The 
 Intelligence She Now Received, We Are Alike Unwilling And Unable To 
 Describe Her Emotions At This Moment.  For Some Time The   Stillness In 
 The Room Was Interrupted By No Sounds But The   Rolling Of   The   Thunder 
 Without, The   Quick, Convulsive Respiration Of   Goisvintha, And The 
 Clinking Of   The   Money Which The   Hun Still Continued To Toss 
 Mechanically From Hand To Hand. 
   
   
   
 'I Shall Reap Good Harvest Of   Gold And Silver After To-Night's Work,' 
 Pursued The   Barbarian, Suddenly Breaking The   Silence.  'You Have Given 
 Me Money To Speak--When The   Chief Returns And Hears That I Have 
 Discovered Him, He Will Give Me Money To Be Silent.  I Shall Drink 
 To-Morrow With The   Best Men In The   Army, Hun Though I Am!' 
   
   
   
 He Returned To His Seat As He Ceased, And Began Beating In Monotonous 
 Measure, With One Of   His Pieces Of   Money On The   Blade Of   His Sword, 
 Some Chorus Of   A Favourite Drinking Song; While Goisvintha, Standing 
 Pale And Breathless Near The   Door Of   The   Chamber, Looked Down On Him 
 With Fixed, Vacant Eyes.  At Length A Deep Sigh Broke From Her; Her 
 Hands Involuntarily Clenched Themselves At Her Side; Her Lips Moved 
 With A Bitter Smile; Then, Without Addressing Another Word To The   Hun, 
 She Turned, And Softly And Stealthily Quitted The   Room. 
   
   
   
   
 The Instant She Was Gone, A Sudden Change Arose In The   Barbarian's 
 Manner.  He Started From His Seat, A Scowl Of   Savage Hatred And Triumph 
 Appeared On His Shaggy Brows, And He Paced To And Fro Through The 
 Chamber Like A Wild Beast In His Cage.  'I Shall Tear Him From The 
 Pinnacle Of   His Power At Last!' He Whispered Fiercely To Himself.  'For 
 What I Have Told Her This Night, His Kinswoman Will Hate Him--I Knew It 
 While She Spoke!  For His Desertion Of   His Post, Alaric May Dishonour 
 Him, May Banish Him, May Hang Him!  His Fate Is At My Mercy; I Shall 
 Rid Myself Nobly Of   Him And His Command! More Than All The   Rest Of   His 
 Nation I Loathe This Goth!  I Will Be By When They Drag Him To The 
 Tree, And Taunt Him With His Shame, As He Has Taunted Me With My 
 Deformity.' Here He Paused To Laugh In Complacent Approval Of   His 
 Project, Quickening His Steps And Hugging Himself Joyfully In The 
 Barbarous Exhilaration Of   His Triumph. 
   
   
   
 His Secret Meditations Had Thus Occupied Him For Some Time Longer, When 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 36 
 The Sound Of   A Footstep Was Audible Outside The   Door.  He Recognised It 
 Instantly, And Called Softly To The   Person Without To Approach.  At The 
 Signal Of   His Voice A Man Entered--Less Athletic In Build, But In 
 Deformity The   Very Counterpart Of   Himself.  The   Following Discourse Was 
 Then Immediately Held Between The   Two Huns, The   New-Comer Beginning It 
 Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 'Have You Tracked Him To The   Door?' 
   
   
   
 'To The   Very Threshold.' 
   
   
   
 'Then His Downfall Is Assured!  I Have Seen Alaric.' 
   
   
   
 'We Shall Trample Him Under Our Feet!--This Boy, Who Has Been Set Over 
 Us That Are His Elders, Because He Is A Goth And We Are Huns!  But What 
 Of Alaric?  How Did You Gain His Ear?' 
   
   
   
 'The Goths Round His Tent Scoffed At Me As A Savage, And Swore That I 
 Was Begotten Between A Demon And A Witch.  But I Remembered The   Time 
 When These Boasters Fled From Their Settlements; When Our Tribes 
 Mounted Their Black Steeds And Hunted Them Like Beasts!  Aha, Their 
 Very Lips Were Pale With Fear In Those Days.' 
   
   
   
 'Speak Of   Alaric--Our Time Is Short,' Interrupted The   Other Fiercely. 
   
   
   
 'I Answered Not A Word To Their Taunts,' Resumed His Companion, 'But I 
 Called Out Loudly That I Was A Gothic Ally, That I Brought Messages To 
 Alaric, And That I Had The   Privilege Of   Audience Like The   Rest. My 
 Voice Reached The   Ears Of   The   King:  He Looked Forth From His Tent, And 
 Beckoned Me In.  I Saw His Hatred Of   My Nation Lowering In His Eye As 
 We Looked On One Another, But I Spoke With Submission And In A Soft 
 Voice. I Told Him How His Chieftain Whom He Had Set Over Us Secretly 
 Deserted His Post; I Told Him How We Had Seen His Favoured Warrior For 
 Many Nights Journeying Towards The   Suburbs;  How On This Night, As On 
 Others Before, He Had Stolen From The   Encampment, And How You Had Gone 
 Forth To Track Him To His Lurking-Place.' 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 17 ( The Huns ) Pg 37 
   
   
 'Was The   Tyrant Angered?' 
   
   
   
 'His Cheeks Reddened, And His Eyes Flashed, And His Fingers Trembled 
 Round The   Hilt Of   His Sword While I Spoke!  When I Ceased He Answered 
 Me That I Lied.  He Cursed Me For An Infidel Hun Who Had Slandered A 
 Christian Chieftain.  He Threatened Me With Hanging!  I Cried To Him To 
 Send Messengers To Our Quarters To Prove The   Truth Ere He Slew Me.  He 
 Commanded A Warrior To Return Hither With Me.  When We Arrived, The 
 Most Christian Chieftain Was Nowhere To Be Beheld--None Knew Whither He 
 Had Gone!  We Turned Back Again To The   Tent Of   The   King; His Warrior, 
 Whom He Honoured, Spoke The   Same Words To Him As The   Hun Whom He 
 Despised. Then The   Wrath Of   Alaric Rose.  "This Very Night," He Cried, 
 "Did I With My Own Lips Direct Him To Await My Commands With Vigilance 
 At His Appointed Post!  I Would Visit Such Disobedience With Punishment 
 On My Own Son!  Go, Take With You Others Of   Your Troop--Your Comrade 
 Who Has Tracked Him Will Guide You To His Hiding-Place--Bring Him 
 Prisoner Into My Tent!"  Such Were His Words!  Our Companions Wait Us 
 Without--Lest He Should Escape Let Us Depart Without Delay.' 
   
   
   
   
 'And If He Should Resist Us,' Cried The   Other, Leading The   Way Eagerly 
 Towards The   Door; 'What Said The   King If He Should Resist Us?' 
   
   
   
 'Slay Him With Your Own Hands.' 
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 38 
   
 As The   Night Still Advanced, So Did The   Storm Increase.  On The   Plains 
 In The   Open Country Its Violence Was Most Apparent.  Here No Living 
 Voices Jarred With The   Dreary Music Of   The   Elements; No Flaming Torches 
 Opposed The   Murky Darkness Or Imitated The   Glaring Lightning.  The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 39 
 Thunder Pursued Uninterruptedly Its Tempest Symphony, And The   Fierce 
 Wind Joined It, Swelling Into Wild Harmony When It Rushed Through The 
 Trees, As If In Their Waving Branches It Struck The   Chords Of   A Mighty 
 Harp. 
   
   
   
 In The   Small Chamber Of   The   Farm-House Sat Together Hermanric And 
 Antonina, Listening In Speechless Attention To The   Increasing Tumult Of 
 The Storm. 
   
   
   
 The Room And Its Occupants Were Imperfectly Illuminated By The   Flame Of 
 A Smouldering Wood Fire. The   Little Earthenware Lamp Hung From Its 
 Usual Place In The   Ceiling, But Its Oil Was Exhausted And Its Light Was 
 Extinct.  An Alabaster Vase Of   Fruit Lay Broken By The   Side Of   The 
 Table, From Which It Had Fallen Unnoticed To The   Floor.  No Other 
 Articles Of   Ornament Appeared In The   Apartment.  Hermanric's Downcast 
 Eyes And Melancholy, Unchanging Expressions Betrayed The   Gloomy 
 Abstraction In Which He Was Absorbed.  With One Hand Clasped In His, 
 And The   Other Resting With Her Head On His Shoulder, Antonina Listened 
 Attentively To The   Alternate Rising And Falling Of   The   Wind.  Her 
 Beauty Had Grown Fresher And More Woman-Like During Her Sojourn At The 
 Farm-House.  Cheerfulness And Hope Seemed To Have Gained At Length All 
 The Share In Her Being Assigned To Them By Nature At Her Birth.  Even 
 At This Moment Of   Tempest And Darkness There Was More Of   Wonder And Awe 
 Than Of   Agitation And Affright In Her Expression, As She Sat 
 Hearkening, With Flushed Cheek And Brightened Eye, To The   Progress Of 
 The Nocturnal Storm. 
   
   
   
 Thus Engrossed By Their Thoughts, Hermanric And Antonina Remained 
 Silent In Their Little Retreat, Until The   Reveries Of   Both Were 
 Suddenly Interrupted By The   Snapping Asunder Of   The   Bar Of   Wood Which 
 Secured The   Door Of   The   Room, The   Stress Of   Which, As It Bent Under The 
 Repeated Shocks Of   The   Wind, The   Rotten Spar Was Too Weak To Sustain 
 Any Longer. There Was Something Inexpressibly Desolate In The   Flood Of 
 Rain, Wind, And Darkness That Seemed Instantly To Pour Into The   Chamber 
 Through The   Open Door, As It Flew Back Violently On Its Frail Hinges. 
 Antonina Changed Colour, And Shuddered Involuntarily, As Hermanric 
 Hastily Rose And Closed The   Door Again, By Detaching Its Rude Latch 
 From The   Sling Which Held It When Not Wanted For Use.  He Looked Round 
 The Room As He Did So For Some Substitute For The   Broken Bar, But 
 Nothing That Was Fit For The   Purpose Immediately Met His Eye, And He 
 Muttered To Himself As He Returned Impatiently To His Seat:  'While We 
 Are Here To Watch It The   Latch Is Enough; It Is New And Strong.' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 40 
 He Seemed On The   Point Of   Again Relapsing Into His Former Gloom, When 
 The Voice Of   Antonina Arrested His Attention, And Aroused Him For The 
 Moment From His Thoughts. 
   
   
   
 'Is It In The   Power Of   The   Tempest To Make You, A Warrior Of   A Race Of 
 Heroes, Thus Sorrowful And Sad?' She Asked, In Accents Of   Gentle 
 Reproach.  'Even I, As I Look On These Walls That Are So Eloquent Of   My 
 Happiness, And Sit By You Whose Presence Makes That Happiness, Can 
 Listen To The   Raging Storm, And Feel No Heaviness Over My Heart!  What 
 Is There To Either Of   Us In The   Tempest That Should Oppress Us With 
 Gloom?  Does Not The   Thunder Come From The   Same Heaven As The   Sunshine 
 Of The   Summer Day? You Are So Young, So Generous, So Brave,--You Have 
 Loved, And Pitied, And Succoured Me,--Why Should The   Night Language Of 
 The Sky Cast Such Sorrow And Such Silence Over You?' 
   
   
   
 'It Is Not From Sorrow That I Am Silent,' Replied Hermanric, With A 
 Constrained Smile, 'But From Weariness With Much Toil In The   Camp.' 
   
   
   
   
 He Stifled A Sigh As He Spoke.  His Head Returned To Its Old Downcast 
 Position.  The   Struggle Between His Assumed Carelessness And His Real 
 Inquietude Was Evidently Unequal.  As She Looked Fixedly On Him, With 
 The Vigilant Eye Of   Affection, The   Girl's Countenance Saddened With 
 His. She Nestled Closer To His Side And Resumed The   Discourse In 
 Anxious And Entreating Tones. 
   
   
   
 'It Is Haply The   Strife Between Our Two Nations Which Has Separated Us 
 Already, And May Separate Us Again, That Thus Oppresses You,' Said She; 
 'But Think, As I Do, Of   The   Peace That Must Come, And Not Of   The 
 Warfare That Now Is.  Think Of   The   Pleasures Of   Our Past Days, And Of 
 The Happiness Of   Our Present Moments,--Thus United, Thus Living, 
 Loving, Hoping For Each Other; And, Like Me, You Will Doubt Not Of   The 
 Future That Is In Preparation For Us Both!  The   Season Of   Tranquillity 
 May Return With The   Season Of   Spring.  The   Serene Heaven Will Then Be 
 Reflected On A Serene Country And A Happy People; And In Those Days Of 
 Sunshine And Peace, Will Any Hearts Among All The   Glad Population Be 
 More Joyful Than Ours?' 
   
   
   
 She Paused A Moment.  Some Sudden Thought Or Recollection Heightened 
 Her Colour And Caused Her To Hesitate Ere She Proceeded.  She Was About 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 41 
 At Length To Continue, When A Peal Of   Thunder, Louder Than Any Which 
 Had Preceded It, Burst Threateningly Over The   House And Drowned The 
 First Accents Of   Her Voice.  The   Wind Moaned Loudly, The   Rain Splashed 
 Against The   Door, The   Latch Rattled Long And Sharply In Its Socket. 
 Once More Hermanric Rose From His Seat, And Approaching The   Fire, 
 Placed A Fresh Log Of   Wood Upon The   Dying Embers.  His Dejection Seemed 
 Now To Communicate Itself To Antonina, And As He Reseated Himself By 
 Her Side, She Did Not Address Him Again. 
   
   
   
 Thoughts, Dreary And Appalling Beyond Any That Had Occupied It Before, 
 Were Rising In The   Mind Of   The   Goth.  His Inquietude At The   Encampment 
 In The   Suburbs Was Tranquillity Itself Compared To The   Gloom Which Now 
 Oppressed Him.  All The   Evaded Dues Of   His Nation, His Family, And His 
 Calling; All The   Suppressed Recollections Of   The   Martial Occupation He 
 Had Slighted, And The   Martial Enmities He Had Disowned, Now Revived 
 Avengingly In His Memory.  Yet, Vivid As These Remembrances Were, They 
 Weakened None Of   Those Feelings Of   Passionate Devotion To Antonina By 
 Which Their Influence Within Him Had Hitherto Been Overcome.  They 
 Existed With Them--The Old Recollections With The   New Emotions--The 
 Stern Rebukings Of   The   Warrior's Nature With The   Anxious Forebodings Of 
 The Lover's Heart.  And Now, His Mysterious Meeting With Ulpius; 
 Goisvintha's Unexpected Return To Health; The   Dreary Rising And Furious 
 Progress Of   The   Night Tempest, Began To Impress His Superstitious Mind 
 As A Train Of   Unwonted And Meaning Incidents, Destined To Mark The 
 Fatal Return Of   His Kinswoman's Influence Over His Own Actions And 
 Antonina's Fate. 
   
   
   
 One By One, His Memory Revived With Laborious Minuteness Every Incident 
 That Had Attended His Different Interviews With The   Roman Girl, From 
 The First Night When She Had Strayed Into His Tent To The   Last Happy 
 Evening That He Had Spent With Her At The   Deserted Farm-House.  Then 
 Tracing Further Backwards The   Course Of   His Existence, He Figured To 
 Himself His Meeting With Goisvintha Among The   Italian Alps; His 
 Presence At The   Death Of   Her Last Child, And His Solemn Engagement, On 
 Hearing Her Recital Of   The   Massacre At Aquileia, To Avenge Her On The 
 Romans With His Own Hands.  Roused By These Opposite Pictures Of   The 
 Past, His Imagination Peopled The   Future With Images Of   Antonina Again 
 Endangered, Afflicted, And Forsaken; With Visions Of   The   Impatient 
 Army, Spurred At Length Into Ferocious Action, Making Universal Havoc 
 Among The   People Of   Rome, And Forcing Him Back For Ever Into Their 
 Avenging Ranks.  No Decision For Resistance Or Resignation To Flight 
 Presented Itself To His Judgment.  Doubt, Despair, And Apprehension 
 Held Unimpeded Sway Over His Impressible But Inactive Faculties.  The 
 Night Itself, As He Looked Forth On It, Was Not More Dark; The   Wild 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 42 
 Thunder, As He Listened To It, Not More Gloomy; The   Name Of   Goisvintha, 
 As He Thought On It, Not More Ominous Of   Evil, Than The   Sinister 
 Visions That Now Startled His Imagination And Oppressed His Weary Mind. 
   
   
   
   
 There Was Something Indescribably Simple, Touching, And Eloquent In The 
 Very Positions Of   Hermanric And Antonina As They Now Sat Together--The 
 Only Members Of   Their Respective Nations Who Were United In Affection 
 And Peace--In The   Lonely Farm-House.  Both The   Girl's Hands Were 
 Clasped Over Hermanric's Shoulder, And Her Head Rested On Them, Turned 
 From The   Door Towards The   Interior Of   The   Room, And So Displaying Her 
 Rich, Black Hair In All Its Luxuriance.  The   Head Of   The   Goth Was Still 
 Sunk On His Breast, As Though He Were Wrapped In A Deep Sleep, And His 
 Hands Hung Listlessly Side By Side Over The   Scabbard Of   His Sheathed 
 Sword, Which Lay Across His Knees.  The   Fire Flamed Only At Intervals, 
 The Fresh Log That Had Been Placed On It Not Having Been Thoroughly 
 Kindled As Yet. Sometimes The   Light Played On The   White Folds Of 
 Antonina's Dress; Sometimes Over The   Bright Surface Of   Hermanric's 
 Cuirass, Which He Had Removed And Laid By His Side On The   Ground; 
 Sometimes Over His Sword, And His Hands, As They Rested On It; But It 
 Was Not Sufficiently Powerful Or Lasting To Illuminate The   Room, The 
 Walls And Corners Of   Which It Left In Almost Complete Darkness. 
   
   
   
 The Thunder Still Pealed From Without, But The   Rain And Wind Had 
 Partially Lulled.  The   Night Hours Had Moved On More Swiftly Than Our 
 Narrative Of   The   Events That Marked Them.  It Was Now Midnight. 
   
   
   
 No Sound Within The   Room Reached Antonina's Ear But The   Quick Rattling 
 Of The   Door-Latch, Shaken In Its Socket By The   Wind.  As One By One The 
 Moments Journeyed Slowly Onward, It Made Its Harsh Music With As 
 Monotonous A Regularity As Though It Were Moved By Their Progress, And 
 Kept Pace With Their Eternal March.  Gradually The   Girl Found Herself 
 Listening To This Sharp, Discordant Sound, With All The   Attention She 
 Could Have Bestowed At Other Times On The   Ripple Of   A Distant Rivulet 
 Or The   Soothing Harmony Of   A Lute, When, Just As It Seemed Adapting 
 Itself Most Easily To Her Senses, It Suddenly Ceased, And The   Next 
 Instant A Gust Of   Wind, Like That Which Had Rushed Through The   Open 
 Door On The   Breaking Of   The   Rotten Bar, Waved Her Hair About Her Face 
 And Fluttered The   Folds Of   Her Light, Loose Dress.  She Raised Her Head 
 And Whispered Tremulously To Hermanric-- 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 43 
   
 'The Door Is Open Again--The Latch Has Given Way!' 
   
   
   
 The Goth Started From His Reverie And Looked Up Hastily.  At That 
 Instant The   Rattling Of   The   Latch Recommenced As Suddenly As It Had 
 Ceased, And The   Air Of   The   Room Recovered Its Former Tranquillity. 
   
   
   
 'Calm Yourself, Beloved One,' Said Hermanric Gently; 'Your Fancy Has 
 Misled You--The Door Is Safe.' 
   
   
   
 He Parted Back Her Dishevelled Hair Caressingly As He Spoke.  Incapable 
 Of Doubting The   Lightest Word That Fell From His Lips, And Hearing No 
 Suspicious Or Unwonted Sound In The   Room, She Never Attempted To 
 Justify Her Suspicions.  As She Again Rested Her Head On His Shoulder, 
 A Vague Misgiving Oppressed Her Heart, And Drew From Her An 
 Irrepressible Sigh; But She Gave Her Apprehensions No Expression In 
 Words.  After Listening For A Moment More To Assure Himself Of   The 
 Security Of   The   Latch, The   Goth Resumed Insensibly The   Contemplations 
 From Which He Had Been Disturbed; Once More His Head Drooped, And Again 
 His Hands Returned Mechanically To Their Old Listless Position, Side By 
 Side, On The   Scabbard Of   His Sword. 
   
   
   
 The Faint, Fickle Flames Still Rose And Fell, Gleaming Here And Sinking 
 There, The   Latch Sounded Sharply In Its Socket, The   Thunder Yet Uttered 
 Its Surly Peal, But The   Wind Was Now Subsiding Into Fainter Moans, And 
 The Rain Began To Splash Faintly And More Faintly Against The   Shutters 
 Without.  To The   Watchers In The   Farm-House Nothing Was Altered To The 
 Eye, And Little To The   Ear.  Fatal Security!  The   Last Few Minutes Had 
 Darkly Determined Their Future Destinies--In The   Loved And Cherished 
 Retreat They Were Now No Longer Alone. 
   
   
   
 They Heard No Stealthy Footsteps Pacing Round Their Dwelling, They Saw 
 No Fierce Eyes Peering Into The   Interior Of   The   Farm-House Through A 
 Chink In The   Shutters, They Marked No Dusky Figure Passing Through The 
 Softly And Quickly Opened Door, And Gliding Into The   Darkest Corner Of 
 The Room.  Yet, Now As They Sat Together, Communing In Silence With 
 Their Young, Sad Hearts, The   Threatening Figure Of   Goisvintha Stood, 
 Shrouded In Congenial Darkness, Under Their Protecting Roof And In 
 Their Beloved Chamber, Rising Still And Silent Almost At Their Very 
 Sides. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 44 
   
 Though The   Fire Of   Her Past Fever Had Raged Again Through Her Veins, 
 And Though Startling Visions Of   The   Murders At Aquileia Had Flashed 
 Before Her Mind As The   Wild Lightning Before Her Eyes, She Had Traced 
 Her Way Through The   Suburbs And Along The   High-Road, And Down The 
 Little Path To The   Farm-House Gate, Without Straying, Without 
 Hesitating.  Regardless Of   The   Darkness And The   Storm, She Had Prowled 
 About The   House, Had Raised The   Latch, Had Waited For A Loud Peal Of 
 Thunder Ere She Passed The   Door, And Had Stolen Shadow-Like Into The 
 Darkest Corner Of   The   Room, With A Patience And A Determination That 
 Nothing Could Disturb. And Now, When She Stood At The   Goal Of   Her Worst 
 Wishes, Even Now, When She Looked Down Upon The   Two Beings By Whom She 
 Had Been Thwarted And Deceived, Her Fierce Self-Possession Did Not 
 Desert Her; Her Lips Quivered Over Her Locked Teeth, Her Bosom Heaved 
 Beneath Her Drenched Garments, But Neither Sighs Nor Curses, Not Even A 
 Smile Of   Triumph Or A Movement Of   Anger Escaped Her. 
   
   
   
 She Never Looked At Antonina; Her Eyes Wandered Not For A Moment From 
 Hermanric's Form.  The   Quickest, Faintest Gleam Of   Firelight That 
 Gleamed Over It Was Followed Through Its Fitful Course By Her Eager 
 Glance, Rapid And Momentary As Itself.  Soon Her Attention Was Fixed 
 Wholly Upon His Hands, As They Lay Over The   Scabbard Of   His Sword; And 
 Then, Slowly And Obscurely, A New And Fatal Resolution Sprung Up Within 
 Her.  The   Various Emotions Pictured In Her Face Became Resolved Into 
 One Sinister Expression, And, Without Removing Her Eyes From The   Goth, 
 She Slowly Drew From The   Bosom-Folds Of   Her Garment A Long Sharp Knife. 
   
   
   
 The Flames Alternately Trembled Into Light And Subsided Into Darkness 
 As At First; Hermanric And Antonina Yet Continued In Their Old 
 Positions, Absorbed In Their Thoughts And In Themselves; And Still 
 Goisvintha Remained Unmoved As Ever, Knife In Hand, Watchful, Steady, 
 Silent As Before. 
   
   
   
 But Beneath The   Concealment Of   Her Outward Tranquillity Raged A 
 Contention Under Which Her Mind Darkened And Her Heart Writhed.  Twice 
 She Returned The   Knife To Its Former Hiding-Place, And Twice She Drew 
 It Forth Again; Her Cheeks Grew Paler And Paler, She Pressed Her 
 Clenched Hand Convulsively Over Her Bosom, And Leant Back Languidly 
 Against The   Wall Behind Her.  No Thought Of   Antonina Had Part In This 
 Great Strife Of   Secret Emotions; Her Wrath Had Too Much Of   Anguish In 
 It To Be Spent Against A Stranger And An Enemy. 
   
   
   
 After The   Lapse Of   A Few Moments More, Her Strength Returned--Her 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 45 
 Firmness Was Aroused.  The   Last Traces Of   Grief And Despair That Had 
 Hitherto Appeared In Her Eyes Vanished From Them In An Instant. Rage, 
 Vengeance, Ferocity, Lowered Over Them As She Crept Stealthily Forward 
 To The   Very Side Of   The   Goth, And, When The   Next Gleam Of   The   Fire 
 Played Upon Him, Drew The   Knife Fiercely Across The   Back Of   His Hands. 
 The Cut Was True, Strong, And Rapid--It Divided The   Tendons From First 
 To Last--He Was Crippled For Life. 
   
   
   
 At That Instant The   Fire Touched The   Very Heart Of   The   Log That Had 
 Been Laid On It.  It Crackled Gaily; It Blazed Out Brilliantly.  The 
 Whole Room Was As Brightly Illuminated As If A Christmas Festival Of 
 Ancient England Had Been Preparing Within Its Walls! 
   
   
   
 The Warm, Cheerful Light Showed The   Goth The   Figure Of   His Assassin, 
 Ere The   First Cry Of   Anguish Had Died Away On His Lips, Or The   First 
 Start Of   Irrepressible Horror Ceased To Vibrate Through His Frame.  The 
 Cries Of   His Hapless Companion, As The   Whole Scene Of   Vengeance, 
 Treachery, And Mutilation Flashed In One Terrible Instant Before Her 
 Eyes, Seemed Not Even To Reach His Ears.  Once He Looked Down Upon His 
 Helpless Hands, When The   Sword Rolled Heavily From Them To The   Floor. 
 Then His Gaze Directed Itself Immovably Upon Goisvintha, As She Stood 
 At A Little Distance From Him, With Her Blood-Stained Knife, Silent As 
 Himself. 
   
   
   
   
 There Was No Fury--No Defiance--Not Even The   Passing Distortion Of 
 Physical Suffering In His Features, As He Now Looked On Her.  Blank, 
 Rigid Horror--Tearless, Voiceless, Helpless Despair, Seemed To Have 
 Petrified The   Expression Of   His Face Into An Everlasting Form, 
 Unyouthful And Unhopeful--As If He Had Been Imprisoned From His 
 Childhood, And A Voice Was Now Taunting Him With The   Pleasures Of 
 Liberty, From A Grating In His Dungeon Walls.  Not Even When Antonina, 
 Recovering From Her First Agony Of   Terror, Pressed Her Convulsive 
 Kisses On His Cold Cheek, Entreating Him To Look On Her, Did He Turn 
 His Head, Or Remove His Eyes From Goisvintha's Form. 
   
   
   
 At Length The   Deep Steady Accents Of   The   Woman's Voice Were Heard 
 Through The   Desolate Silence. 
   
   
   
 'Traitor In Word And Thought You May Be Yet, But Traitor In Deed You 
 Never More Shall Be!' She Began, Pointing To His Hands With Her Knife. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 46 
 'Those Hands, That Have Protected A Roman Life, Shall Never Grasp A 
 Roman Sword, Shall Never Pollute Again By Their Touch A Gothic Weapon! 
 I Remembered, As I Watched You In The   Darkness, How The   Women Of   My 
 Race Once Punished Their Recreant Warriors When They Fled To Them From 
 A Defeat.  So Have I Punished You!  The   Arm That Served Not The   Cause 
 Of Sister And Sister's Children--Of King And King's Nation--Shall Serve 
 No Other!  I Am Half Avenged Of   The   Murders At Aquileia, Now That I Am 
 Avenged On You!  Go, Fly With The   Roman You Have Chosen To The   City Of 
 Her People!  Your Life As A Warrior Is At An End!' 
   
   
   
 He Made Her No Answer.  There Are Emotions, The   Last Of   A Life, Which 
 Tear Back From Nature The   Strongest Barriers That Custom Raises To 
 Repress Her, Which Betray The   Lurking Existence Of   The   First Rude 
 Social Feeling Of   The   Primeval Days Of   A Great Nation, In The   Breasts 
 Of Their Most Distant Descendants, However Widely Their Acquirements, 
 Their Prosperities, Or Their Changes May Seem To Have Morally Separated 
 Them From Their Ancestors Of   Old.  Such Were The   Emotions Now Awakened 
 In The   Heart Of   The   Goth.  His Christianity, His Love, His Knowledge Of 
 High Aims, And His Experience Of   New Ideas, Sank And Deserted Him, As 
 Though He Had Never Known Them.  He Thought On His Mutilated Hands, And 
 No Other Spirit Moved Within Him, But The   Ancient Gothic Spirit Of 
 Centuries Back; The   Inspiration Of   His Nation's Early Northern Songs 
 And Early Northern Achievements--The Renown Of   Courage And The 
 Supremacy Of   Strength. 
   
   
   
 Vainly Did Antonina, In The   Midst Of   The   Despair That Still Possessed 
 Her, Yearn For A Word From His Lips Or A Glance From His Eyes; Vainly 
 Did Her Trembling Fingers, Tearing The   Bandages From Her Robe, Stanch 
 The Blood On His Wounded Hands; Vainly Did Her Voice Call On Him To Fly 
 And Summon Help From His Companions In The   Camp!  His Mind Was Far 
 Away, Brooding Over The   Legends Of   The   Battle-Fields Of   His Ancestors, 
 Remembering How, Even In The   Day Of   Victory, They Slew Themselves If 
 They Were Crippled In The   Fray, How They Scorned To Exist For Other 
 Interests Than The   Interests Of   Strife, How They Mutilated Traitors As 
 Goisvintha Had Mutilated Him!  Such Were The   Objects That Enchained His 
 Inward Faculties, While His Outward Senses Were Still Enthralled By The 
 Horrible Fascination That Existed For Him In The   Presence Of   The 
 Assassin By His Side.  His Very Consciousness Of   His Existence, Though 
 He Moved And Breathed, Seemed To Have Ceased. 
   
   
   
 'You Thought To Deceive Me In My Sickness, You Hoped To Profit By My 
 Death,' Resumed Goisvintha, Returning Contemptuously Her Victim's 
 Glance.  'You Trusted In The   Night, And The   Darkness, And The   Storm; 
 You Were Secure In Your Boldness, In Your Strength, In The   Secrecy Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 47 
 This Lurking-Place That You Have Chosen For Your Treachery, But Your 
 Stratagems And Your Expectations Have Failed You!  At Aquileia I Learnt 
 To Be Wily And Watchful As You!  I Discovered Your Desertion Of   The 
 Warriors And The   Camp; I Penetrated The   Paths To Your Hiding-Place; I 
 Entered It As Softly As I Once Departed From The   Dwelling Where My 
 Children Were Slain!  In My Just Vengeance I Have Treated You As 
 Treacherously As You Would Have Treated Me!  Remember Your Murdered 
 Brother; Remember The   Child I Put Into Your Arms Wounded And Received 
 From Them Dead; Remember Your Broken Oaths And Forgotten Promises, And 
 Make To Your Nation, To Your Duties, And To Me, The   Atonement--The Last 
 And The   Only One--That In My Mercy I Have Left In Your Power--The 
 Atonement Of   Death.' 
   
   
   
   
 Again She Paused, And Again No Reply Awaited Her.  Still The   Goth 
 Neither Moved Nor Spoke, And Still Antonina--Kneeling Unconsciously 
 Upon The   Sword, Now Useless To Him For Ever--Continued To Stanch The 
 Blood On His Hands With A Mechanical Earnestness That Seemed To Shut 
 Out The   Contemplation Of   Every Other Object From Her Eyes.  The   Tears 
 Streamed Incessantly Down Her Cheeks, But She Never Turned Towards 
 Goisvintha, Never Suspended Her Occupation. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile, The   Fire Still Blazed Noisily On The   Cheerful Hearth; But 
 The Storm, As If Disdaining The   Office Of   Heightening The   Human Horror 
 Of The   Farm-House Scene, Was Rapidly Subsiding.  The   Thunder Pealed 
 Less Frequently And Less Loudly, The   Wind Fell Into Intervals Of 
 Noiseless Calm, And Occasionally The   Moonlight Streamed, In Momentary 
 Brightness, Through The   Ragged Edges Of   The   Fast Breaking Clouds.  The 
 Breath Of   The   Still Morning Was Already Moving Upon The   Firmament Of 
 The Stormy Night. 
   
   
   
 'Has Life Its Old Magic For You Yet?' Continued Goisvintha, In Tones Of 
 Pitiless Reproach.  'Have You Forgotten, With The   Spirit Of   Your 
 People, The   End For Which Your Ancestors Lived?  Is Not Your Sword At 
 Your Feet? Is Not The   Knife In My Hand?  Do Not The   Waters Of   The 
 Tiber, Rolling Yonder To The   Sea, Offer To You The   Grave Of   Oblivion 
 That All May Seek? Die Then!  In Your Last Hour Be A Goth; Even To The 
 Romans You Are Worthless Now!  Already Your Comrades Have Discovered 
 Your Desertion; Will You Wait Till You Are Hung For A Rebel?  Will You 
 Live To Implore The   Mercy Of   Your Enemies, Or, Dishonoured And 
 Defenceless, Will You Endeavour To Escape?  You Are Of   The   Blood Of   My 
 Family, But Again I Say It To You--Die!' 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 48 
 His Pale Lips Trembled; He Looked Round For The   First Time At Antonina, 
 But His Utterance Struggled Ineffectually, Even Yet, Against Unyielding 
 Despair.  He Was Still Silent. 
   
   
   
 Goisvintha Turned From Him Disdainfully, And Approaching The   Fire Sat 
 Down Before It, Bending Her Haggard Features Over The   Brilliant Flames. 
 For A Few Minutes She Remained Absorbed In Her Evil Thoughts, But No 
 Articulate Word Escaped Her; And When At Length She Again Abruptly 
 Broke The   Silence, It Was Not To Address The   Goth Or To Fix Her Eyes On 
 Him As Before. 
   
   
   
 Still Cowering Over The   Fire, Apparently As Regardless Of   The   Presence 
 Of The   Two Beings Whose Happiness She Had Just Crushed For Ever As If 
 They Had Never Existed, She Began To Recite, In Solemn, Measured, 
 Chanting Tones, A Legend Of   The   Darkest And Earliest Age Of   Gothic 
 History, Keeping Time To Herself With The   Knife That She Still Held In 
 Her Hand.  The   Malignity In Her Expression, As She Pursued Her 
 Employment, Betrayed The   Heartless Motive That Animated It, Almost As 
 Palpably As The   Words Of   The   Composition She Was Repeating:  Thus She 
 Now Spoke:-- 
   
   
   
     'The Tempest-God's Pinions O'ershadow The   Sky, 
     The   Waves Leap To Welcome The   Storm That Is Nigh, 
     Through The   Hall Of   Old Odin Re-Echo The   Shocks 
     That The   Fierce Ocean Hurls At His Rampart Of   Rocks, 
     As, Alone On The   Crags That Soar Up From The   Sands, 
     With His Virgin Siona The   Young Agnar Stands; 
     Tears Sprinkle Their Dew On The   Sad Maiden's Cheeks, 
     And The   Voice Of   The   Chieftain Sinks Low While He Speaks: 
   
   
   
     "Crippled In The   Fight For Ever, 
     Number'd With The   Worse Than Slain; 
     Weak, Deform'd, Disabled!--Never 
     Can I Join The   Hosts Again! 
     With The   Battle That Is Won 
     Agnar's Earthly Course Is Run! 
   
   
   
     "When Thy Shatter'd Frame Must Yield, 
     If Thou Seek'st A Future Field; 
     When Thy Arm, That Sway'd The   Strife, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 49 
     Fails To Shield Thy Worthless Life; 
     When Thy Hands No More Afford 
     Full Employment To The   Sword; 
     Then, Preserve--Respect Thy Name; 
     Meet Thy Death--To Live Is Shame! 
     Such Is Odin's Mighty Will; 
     Such Commands I Now Fulfil!"' 
   
   
   
 At This Point In The   Legend, She Paused And Turned Suddenly To Observe 
 Its Effect On Hermanric.  All Its Horrible Application To Himself 
 Thrilled Through His Heart.  His Head Drooped, And A Low Groan Burst 
 From His Lips.  But Even This Evidence Of   The   Suffering She Was 
 Inflicting Failed To Melt The   Iron Malignity Of   Goisvintha's 
 Determination. 
   
   
   
   
 'Do You Remember The   Death Of   Agnar?' She Cried.  'When You Were A 
 Child, I Sung It To You Ere You Slept, And You Vowed As You Heard It, 
 That When You Were A Man, If You Suffered His Wounds You Would Die His 
 Death!  He Was Crippled In A Victory, Yet He Slew Himself On The   Day Of 
 His Triumph; You Are Crippled In Your Treachery, And Have Forgotten 
 Your Boy's Honour, And Will Live In The   Darkness Of   Your Shame!  Have 
 You Lost Remembrance Of   That Ancient Song?  You Heard It From Me In The 
 Morning Of   Your Years; Listen, And You Shall Hear It To The   End; It Is 
 The Dirge For Your Approaching Death!' 
   
   
   
 She Continued-- 
   
   
   
     "Siona, Mourn Not!--Where I Go 
     The   Warriors Feel Nor Pain Nor Woe; 
     They Raise Aloft The   Gleaming Steel, 
     Their Wounds, Though Warm, Untended Heal; 
     Their Arrows Bellow Through The   Air 
     In Showers, As They Battle There; 
     In Mighty Cups Their Wine Is Pour'd, 
     Bright Virgins Throng Their Midnight Board! 
   
   
   
     "Yet Think Not That I Die Unmov'd; 
     I Mourn The   Doom That Sets Me Free, 
     As I Think, Betroth'd--Belov'd, 
     On All The   Joys I Lose In Thee! 
     To Form My Boys To Meet The   Fray, 
     Where'er The   Gothic Banner Streams; 
     To Guard Thy Night, To Glad Thy Day, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 50 
     Made All The   Bliss Of   Agnar's Dreams-- 
     Dreams That Must Now Be All Forgot, 
     Earth's Joys Have Passed From Agnar's Lot! 
   
   
   
     "See, Athwart The   Face Of   Light 
     Float The   Clouds Of   Sullen Night! 
     Odin's Warriors Watch For Me 
     By The   Earth-Encircling Sea! 
     The   Water's Dirges Howl My Knell; 
     'Tis Time I Die--Farewell-Farewell!" 
   
   
   
     'He Rose With A Smile To Prepare For The   Spring, 
     He Flew From The   Rock Like A Bird On The   Wing; 
     The   Sea Met Her Prey With A Leap And A Roar, 
     And The   Maid Stood Alone By The   Wave-Riven Shore! 
   
   
   
     The   Winds Mutter'd Deep, With A Woe-Boding Sound, 
     As She Wept O'er The   Footsteps He'd Left On The   Ground; 
     And The   Wild Vultures Shriek'd, For The   Chieftain Who Spread 
     Their Battle-Field Banquets Was Laid With The   Dead!' 
   
   
   
 As, With A Slow And Measured Emphasis, Goisvintha Pronounced The   Last 
 Lines Of   The   Poem She Again Approached Hermanric.  But The   Eyes Of   The 
 Goth Sought Her No Longer.  She Had Calmed The   Emotions That She Had 
 Hoped To Irritate.  Of   The   Latter Divisions Of   Her Legend, Those Only 
 Which Were Pathetic Had Arrested The   Lost Chieftain's Attention, And 
 The Blunted Faculties Of   His Heart Recovered Their Old Refinement As He 
 Listened To Them.  A Solemn Composure Of   Love, Grief, And Pity Appeared 
 In The   Glance Of   Affection That He Now Directed On The   Girl's 
 Despairing Countenance.  Years Of   Good Thoughts, An Existence Of   Tender 
 Cares, An Eternity Of   Youthful Devotion Spoke In That Rapt, Momentary, 
 Eloquent Gaze, And Imprinted On His Expression A Character Ineffably 
 Beautiful And Calm--A Nobleness Above The   Human, And Approaching The 
 Angelic And Divine. 
   
   
   
 Intuitively Goisvintha Followed The   Direction Of   His Eyes, And Looked, 
 Like Him, On The   Roman Girl's Face.  A Lowering Expression Of   Hatred 
 Replaced The   Scorn That Had Hitherto Distorted Her Passionate Features. 
 Mechanically Her Hand Again Half Raised The   Knife, And The   Accents Of 
 Her Wrathful Voice Once More Disturbed The   Sacred Silence Of   Affection 
 And Grief. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 51 
   
 'Is It For The   Girl There That You Would Still Live?' She Cried 
 Sternly. 'I Foreboded It, Coward, When I  First Looked On You!  I 
 Prepared For It When I Wounded You!  I Made Sure That When My Anger 
 Again Threatened This New Ruler Of   Your Thoughts And Mover Of   Your 
 Actions, You Should Have Lost The   Power To Divert It From Her Again! 
 Think You That, Because My Disdain Has Delayed It, My Vengeance On Her 
 Is Abandoned? Long Since I Swore To You That She Should Die, And I Will 
 Hold To My Purpose! I Have Punished You; I Will Slay Her!  Can You 
 Shield Her From The   Blow To-Night, As You Shielded Her In Your Tent? 
 You Are Weaker Before Me Than A Child!' 
   
   
   
 She Ceased Abruptly, For At This Moment A Noise Of   Hurrying Footsteps 
 And Contending Voices Became Suddenly Audible From Without.  As She 
 Heard It, A Ghastly Paleness Chased The   Flush Of   Anger From Her Cheeks. 
 With The   Promptitude Of   Apprehension She Snatched The   Sword Of 
 Hermanric From Under Antonina, And Ran It Through The   Staples Intended 
 To Hold The   Rude Bar Of   The   Door.  The   Next Instant The   Footsteps 
 Sounded On The   Garden Path, And The   Next The   Door Was Assailed. 
   
   
   
 The Good Sword Held Firm, But The   Frail Barrier That It Sustained 
 Yielded At The   Second Shock And Fell Inwards, Shattered, To The   Floor. 
 Instantly The   Gap Was Darkened By Human Forms, And The   Firelight Glowed 
 Over The   Repulsive Countenances Of   Two Huns Who Headed The   Intruders, 
 Habited In Complete Armour And Furnished With Naked Swords. 
   
   
   
 'Yield Yourself Prisoner By Alaric's Command,' Cried One Of   The 
 Barbarians, 'Or You Shall Be Slain As A Deserter Where You Now Stand!' 
   
   
   
 The Goth Had Risen To His Feet As The   Door Was Burst In.  The   Arrival 
 Of His Pursuers Seemed To Restore His Lost Energies, To Deliver Him At 
 Once From An All-Powerful Thraldom.  An Expression Of   Triumph And 
 Defiance Shone Over His Steady Features When He Heard The   Summons Of 
 The Hun. For A Moment He Stooped Towards Antonina, As She Clung 
 Fainting Round Him.  His Mouth Quivered And His Eye Glistened As He 
 Kissed Her Cold Cheek.  In That Moment All The   Hopelessness Of   His 
 Position, All The   Worthlessness Of   His Marred Existence, All The 
 Ignominy Preparing For Him When He Returned To The   Camp, Rushed Over 
 His Mind.  In That Moment The   Worst Horrors Of   Departure And Death, The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 52 
 Fiercest Rackings Of   Love And Despair, Assailed But Did Not Overcome 
 Him.  In That Moment He Paid His Final Tribute To The   Dues Of 
 Affection, And Braced For The   Last Time The   Fibres Of   Manly 
 Dauntlessness And Spartan Resolve! 
   
   
   
 The Next Instant He Tore Himself From The   Girl's Arms, The   Old 
 Hero-Spirit Of   His Conquering Nation Possessed Every Nerve In His 
 Frame, His Eye Brightened Again Gloriously With Its Lost Warrior-Light, 
 His Limbs Grew Firm, His Face Was Calm, He Confronted The   Huns With A 
 Mien Of   Authority And A Smile Of   Disdain, And, As He Presented To Them 
 His Defenceless Breast, Not The   Faintest Tremor Was Audible In His 
 Voice, While He Cried In Accents Of   Steady Command-- 
   
   
   
 'Strike!  I Yield Not!' 
   
   
   
 The Huns Rushed Forward With Fierce Cries, And Buried Their Swords In 
 His Body.  His Warm Young Blood Gushed Out Upon The   Floor Of   The 
 Dwelling Which Had Been The   Love-Shrine Of   The   Heart That Shed It. 
 Without A Sigh From His Lips Or A Convulsion On His Features, He Fell 
 Dead At The   Feet Of   His Enemies; All The   Valour Of   His Disposition, All 
 The Gentleness Of   His Heart, All The   Vigour Of   His Form, Resolved In 
 One Humble Instant Into A Senseless And Burdensome Mass! 
   
   
   
 Antonina Beheld The   Assassination, But Was Spared The   Sight Of   The 
 Death That Followed It.  She Fell Insensible By The   Side Of   Her Young 
 Warrior--Her Dress Was Spotted With His Blood, Her Form Was Motionless 
 As His Own. 
   
   
   
 'Leave Him There To Rot!  His Pride In His Superiority Will Not Serve 
 Him Now--Even To A Grave!' Cried The   Hun Leader To His Companions, As 
 He Dried On The   Garments Of   The   Corpse His Reeking Sword. 
   
   
   
 'And This Woman,' Demanded One Of   His Comrades, 'Is She To Be Liberated 
 Or Secured?' 
   
   
   
 He Pointed As He Spoke To Goisvintha.  During The   Brief Scene Of   The 
 Assassination, The   Very Exercise Of   Her Faculties Seemed To Have Been 
 Suspended.  She Had Never Stirred A Limb Or Uttered A Word. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 53 
   
   
 The Hun Recognised Her As The   Woman Who Had Questioned And Bribed Him 
 At The   Camp.  'She Is The   Traitor's Kinswoman And Is Absent From The 
 Tents Without Leave,' He Answered.  'Take Her Prisoner To Alaric; She 
 Will Bear Us Witness That We Have Done As He Commanded Us.  As For The 
 Girl,' He Continued, Glancing At The   Blood On Antonina's Dress, And 
 Stirring Her Figure Carelessly With His Foot, 'She May Be Dead Too, For 
 She Neither Moves Nor Speaks, And May Be Left Like Her Protector To Lie 
 Graveless Where She Is.  For Us, It Is Time That We Depart--The King Is 
 Impatient Of   Delay.' 
   
   
   
   
 As They Led Her Roughly From The   House, Goisvintha Shuddered, And 
 Attempted To Pause For A Moment When She Passed The   Corpse Of   The   Goth. 
 Death, That Can Extinguish Enmities As Well As Sunder Loves, Rose Awful 
 And Appealing As She Looked Her Last At Her Murdered Brother, And 
 Remembered Her Murdered Husband.  No Tears Flowed From Her Eyes, No 
 Groans Broke From Her Bosom; But There Was A Pang, A Last Momentary 
 Pang Of   Grief And Pity At Her Heart As She Murmured While They Forced 
 Her Away--'Aquileia! Aquileia! Have I Outlived Thee For This!' 
   
   
   
 The Troops Retired. For A Few Minutes Silence Ruled Uninterruptedly 
 Over The   Room Where The   Senseless Girl Still Lay By The   Side Of   All 
 That Was Left To Her Of   The   Object Of   Her First Youthful Love. But Ere 
 Long Footsteps Again Approached The   Farm-House Door, And Two Goths, Who 
 Had Formed Part Of   The   Escort Allotted To The   Hun, Approached The   Young 
 Chieftain's Corpse. Quickly And Silently They Raised It In Their Arms 
 And Bore It Into The   Garden. There They Scooped A Shallow Hole With 
 Their Swords In The   Fresh, Flower-Laden Turf, And Having Laid The   Body 
 There, They Hastily Covered It, And Rapidly Departed Without Returning 
 To The   House. 
   
   
   
 These Men Had Served Among The   Warriors Committed To Hermanric's 
 Command.  By Many Acts Of   Frank Generosity And Encouragement, The   Young 
 Chieftain Had Won Their Rough Attachment.  They Mourned His Fate, But 
 Dared Not Obstruct The   Sentence, Or Oppose The   Act That Determined It. 
 At Their Own Risk They Had Secretly Quitted The   Advancing Ranks Of 
 Their Comrades, To Use The   Last Privilege And Obey The   Last Dictate Of 
 Human Kindness; And They Thought Not Of   The   Lonely Girl As They Now 
 Left Her Desolate, And Hurried Away To Reassume Their Appointed 
 Stations Ere It Was Too Late. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 18 (The Farm House ) Pg 54 
   
   
 The Turf Lay Caressingly Round The   Young Warrior's Form; Its Crushed 
 Flowers Pressed Softly Against His Cold Cheek; The   Fragrance Of   The   New 
 Morning Wafted Its Pure Incense Gently About His Simple Grave! Around 
 Him Flowered The   Delicate Plants That The   Hand Of   Antonina Had Raised 
 To Please His Eye.  Near Him Stood The   Dwelling, Sacred To The   First 
 And Last Kiss That He Had Impressed Upon Her Lips; And About Him, On 
 All Sides, Rose The   Plains And Woodlands That Had Engrossed, With Her 
 Image, The   Devotion Of   All Her Dearest Thoughts.  He Lay, In His Death, 
 In The   Midst Of   The   Magic Circle Of   The   Best Joys Of   His Life!  It Was 
 A Fitter Burial-Place For The   Earthly Relics Of   That Bright And 
 Generous Spirit Than The   Pit In The   Carnage-Laden Battle-Field, Or The 
 Desolate Sepulchres Of   A Northern Land! 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 55 
   
 Not Long Is The   New-Made Grave Left Unwatched To The   Solemn 
 Guardianship Of   Solitude And Night. More Than A Few Minutes Have 
 Scarcely Elapsed Since It Was Dug, Yet Already Human Footsteps Press 
 Its Yielding Surface, And A Human Glance Scans Attentively Its Small 
 And Homely Mound. 
   
   
   
 But It Is Not Antonina, Whom He Loved; It Is Not Goisvintha, Through 
 Whose Vengeance He Was Lost, Who Now Looks Upon The   Earth Above The 
 Young Warrior's Corpse.  It Is A Stranger, An Outcast; A Man Lost, 
 Dishonoured, Abandoned--It Is The   Solitary And Ruined Ulpius Who Now 
 Gazes With Indifferent Eyes Upon The   Peaceful Garden And The   Eloquent 
 Grave. 
   
   
   
 In The   Destinies Of   Woe Committed To The   Keeping Of   The   Night, The 
 Pagan Had Been Fatally Included. The   Destruction That Had Gone Forth 
 Against The   Body Of   The   Young Man Who Lay Beneath The   Earth Had 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 56 
 Overtaken The   Mind Of   The   Old Man Who Stood Over His Simple Grave.  The 
 Frame Of   Ulpius, With All Its Infirmities, Was Still There, But The 
 Soul Of   Ferocious Patience And Unconquerable Daring That Had Lighted It 
 Grandly In Its Ruin Was Gone.  Over The   Long Anguish Of   That Woeful 
 Life The   Veil Of   Self-Oblivion Had Closed For Ever! 
   
   
   
   
 He Had Been Dismissed By Alaric, But He Had Not Returned To The   City 
 Whither He Was Bidden.  Throughout The   Night He Had Wandered About The 
 Lonely Suburbs, Striving In Secret And Horrible Suffering For The 
 Mastery Of   His Mind.  There Did The   Overthrow Of   All His Hopes From The 
 Goths Expand Rapidly Into The   Overthrow Of   The   Whole Intellect That Had 
 Created His Aspirations.  There Had Reason Burst The   Bonds That Had So 
 Long Chained, Perverted, Degraded It!  At Length, Wandering Hither And 
 Thither, He Had Dragged The   Helpless Body, Possessed No Longer By The 
 Perilous Mind, To The   Farm-House Garden In Which He Now Stood, Gazing 
 Alternately At The   Upturned Sods Of   The   Chieftain's Grave And The   Red 
 Gleam Of   The   Fire As It Glowed From The   Dreary Room Through The   Gap Of 
 The Shattered Door. 
   
   
   
 His Faculties Were Fatally Disordered Rather Than Utterly Destroyed. 
 His Penetration, His Firmness, And His Cunning Were Gone; But A Wreck 
 Of Memory, Useless And Unmanageable--A Certain Capacity For Momentary 
 Observation Still Remained To Him.  The   Shameful Miscarriage In The 
 Tent Of   Alaric, Which Had Overthrown His Faculties, Had Passed From Him 
 As An Event That Never Happened, But He Remembered Fragments Of   His 
 Past Existence--He Still Retained A Vague Consciousness Of   The   Ruling 
 Purpose Of   His Whole Life. 
   
   
   
 These Embryo Reflections, Disconnected And Unsustained, Flitted To And 
 Fro Over His Dark Mind As Luminous Exhalations Over A Marsh--Rising And 
 Sinking, Harmless And Delusive, Fitful And Irregular. What He 
 Remembered Of   The   Past He Remembered Carelessly, Viewing It With As 
 Vacant A Curiosity As If It Were The   Visionary Spectacle Of   Another 
 Man's Struggles And Misfortunes And Hopes, Acting Under It As Under A 
 Mysterious Influence, Neither The   End Nor The   Reason Of   Which He Cared 
 To Discover.  For The   Future, It Was To His Thoughts A Perfect Blank; 
 For The   Present, It Was A Jarring Combination Of   Bodily Weariness And 
 Mental Repose. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 57 
 He Shuddered As He Stood Shelterless Under The   Open Heaven.  The   Cold, 
 That He Had Defied In The   Vaults Of   The   Rifted Wall, Pierced In The 
 Farm-House Garden; His Limbs, Which Had Resisted Repose On The   Hard 
 Journey From Rome To The   Camp Of   The   Goths, Now Trembled So That He Was 
 Fain To Rest Them On The   Ground.  For A Short Time He Sat Glaring With 
 Vacant And Affrighted Eyes Upon The   Open Dwelling Before Him, As Though 
 He Longed To Enter It But Dare Not.  At Length The   Temptation Of   The 
 Ruddy Firelight Seemed To Vanquish His Irresolution; He Rose With 
 Difficulty, And Slowly And Hesitatingly Entered The   House. 
   
   
   
 He Had Advanced, Thief-Like, But A Few Steps, He Had Felt But For A 
 Moment The   Welcome Warmth Of   The   Fire, When The   Figure Of   Antonina, 
 Still Extended Insensible Upon The   Floor, Caught His Eye; He Approached 
 It With Eager Curiosity, And, Raising The   Girl On His Arm, Looked At 
 Her With A Long And Rigid Scrutiny. 
   
   
   
 For Some Moments No Expression Of   Recognition Passed His Lips Or 
 Appeared On His Countenance, As, With A Mechanical, Doting Gesture Of 
 Fondness, He Smoothed Her Dishevelled Hair Over Her Forehead.  While He 
 Was Thus Engaged, While The   Remains Of   The   Gentleness Of   His Childhood 
 Were Thus Awfully Revived In The   Insanity Of   His Age, A Musical String 
 Wound Round A Small Piece Of   Gilt Wood Fell From Its Concealment In Her 
 Bosom; He Snatched It From The   Ground--It Was The   Fragment Of   Her 
 Broken Lute, Which Had Never Quitted Her Since The   Night When, In Her 
 Innocent Grief, She Had Wept Over It In Her Maiden Bed-Chamber. 
   
   
   
 Small, Obscure, Insignificant As It Was, This Little Token Touched The 
 Fibre In The   Pagan's Shattered Mind Which The   All-Eloquent Form And 
 Presence Of   Its Hapless Mistress Had Failed To Reach; His Memory Flew 
 Back Instantly To The   Garden On The   Pincian Mount, And To His Past 
 Duties In Numerian's Household, But Spoke Not To Him Of   The   Calamities 
 He Had Wreaked Since That Period On His Confiding Master.  His 
 Imagination Presented To Him At This Moment But One Image--His 
 Servitude In The   Christian's Abode; And As He Now Looked On The   Girl He 
 Could Regard Himself But In One Light--As 'The Guardian Restored'. 
   
   
   
 'What Does She With Her Music Here?' He Whispered Apprehensively. 
 'This Is Not Her Father's House, And The   Garden Yonder Looks Not From 
 The Summit Of   The   Hill!' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 58 
 As He Curiously Examined The   Room, The   Red Spots On The   Floor Suddenly 
 Attracted His Attention.  A Panic, A Frantic Terror Seemed Instantly To 
 Overwhelm Him.  He Rose With A Cry Of   Horror, And, Still Holding The 
 Girl On His Arm, Hurried Out Into The   Garden Trembling And Breathless, 
 As If The   Weapon Of   An Assassin Had Scared Him From The   House. 
   
   
   
   
 The Shock Of   Her Rough Removal, The   Sudden Influence Of   The   Fresh, Cold 
 Air, Restored Antonina To The   Consciousness Of   Life At The   Moment When 
 Ulpius, Unable To Support Her Longer, Laid Her Against The   Little Heap 
 Of Turf Which Marked The   Position Of   The   Young Chieftain's Grave.  Her 
 Eyes Opened Wildly; Their First Glance Fixed Upon The   Shattered Door 
 And The   Empty Room.  She Rose From The   Ground, Advanced A Few Steps 
 Towards The   House, Then Paused, Rigid, Breathless, Silent, And, Turning 
 Slowly, Faced The   Upturned Turf. 
   
   
   
 The Grave Was All-Eloquent Of   Its Tenant.  His Cuirass, Which The 
 Soldiers Had Thought To Bury With The   Body That It Had Defended In 
 Former Days, Had Been Overlooked In The   Haste Of   The   Secret Interment, 
 And Lay Partly Imbedded In The   Broken Earth, Partly Exposed To View--A 
 Simple Monument Over A Simple Grave!  Her Tearless, Dilated Eyes Looked 
 Down On It As Though They Would Number Each Blade Of   Grass, Each Morsel 
 Of Earth By Which It Was Surrounded!  Her Hair Waved Idly About Her 
 Cheeks, As The   Light Wind Fluttered It; But No Expression Passed Over 
 Her Face, No Gestures Escaped Her Limbs.  Her Mind Toiled And Quivered, 
 As If Crushed By A Fiery Burden; But Her Heart Was Voiceless, And Her 
 Body Was Still. 
   
   
   
 Ulpius Had Stood Unnoticed By Her Side.  At This Moment He Moved So As 
 To Confront Her, And She Suddenly Looked Up At Him.  A Momentary 
 Expression Of   Bewilderment And Suspicion Lightened The   Heavy Vacancy Of 
 Despair Which Had Chased Their Natural And Feminine Tenderness From Her 
 Eyes, But It Disappeared Rapidly.  She Turned From The   Pagan, Knelt 
 Down By The   Grave, And Pressed Her Face And Bosom Against The   Little 
 Mound Of   Turf Beneath Her. 
   
   
   
 No Voice Comforted Her, No Arm Caressed Her, As Her Mind Now Began To 
 Penetrate The   Mysteries, To Probe The   Darkest Depths Of   The   Long 
 Night's Calamities!  Unaided And Unsolaced, While The   Few And Waning 
 Stars Glimmered From Their Places In The   Sky, While The   Sublime 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 59 
 Stillness Of   Tranquillised Nature Stretched Around Her, She Knelt At 
 The Altar Of   Death, And Raised Her Soul Upward To The   Great Heaven 
 Above Her, Charged With Its Sacred Offering Of   Human Grief! 
   
   
   
 Long Did She Thus Remain; And When At Length She Arose From The   Ground, 
 When, Approaching The   Pagan, She Fixed On Him Her Tearless, Dreary 
 Eyes, He Quailed Before Her Glance, As His Dull Faculties Struggled 
 Vainly To Resume The   Old, Informing Power That They Had Now For Ever 
 Lost. Nothing But The   Remembrance Aroused By His First Sight Of   The 
 Fragment Of   The   Lute Lived Within Even Yet, As He Whispered To Her In 
 Low, Entreating Tones-- 
   
   
   
 'Come Home--Come Home!  Your Father May Return Before Us--Come Home!' 
   
   
   
 As The   Words 'Home' And 'Father'--Those Household Gods Of   The   Heart's 
 Earliest Existence--Struck Upon Her Ears, A Change Flashed With 
 Electric Suddenness Over The   Girl's Whole Aspect.  She Raised Her Wan 
 Hands To The   Sky; All Her Woman's Tenderness Repossessed Itself Of   Her 
 Heart; And As She Again Knelt Down Over The   Grave, Her Sobs Rose 
 Audibly Through The   Calmed And Fragrant Air. 
   
   
   
 With Hermanric's Corpse Beneath Her, With The   Blood-Sprinkled Room 
 Behind Her, With A Hostile Army And A Famine-Wasted City Beyond Her, It 
 Was Only Through That Flood Of   Tears, That Healing Passion Of   Gentle 
 Emotions, That She Rose Superior To The   Multiplied Horrors Of   Her 
 Situation At The   Very Moment When Her Faculties And Her Life Seemed 
 Sinking Under Them Alike.  Fully, Freely, Bitterly She Wept, On The 
 Kindly And Parent Earth--The Patient, Friendly Ground That Once Bore 
 The Light Footsteps Of   The   First Of   A Race Not Created For Death; That 
 Now Holds In Its Sheltering Arms The   Loved Ones, Whom, In Mourning, We 
 Lay There To Sleep; That Shall Yet Be Bound To The   Farthermost Of   Its 
 Depths, When The   Sun-Bright Presence Of   Returning Spirits Shines Over 
 Its Renovated Frame, And Love Is Resumed In Angel Perfection At The 
 Point Where Death Suspended It In Mortal Frailness! 
   
   
   
 'Come Home--Your Father Is Awaiting You--Come Home!' Repeated The   Pagan 
 Vacantly, Moving Slowly Away As He Spoke. 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 60 
 At The   Sound Of   His Voice She Started Up, And Clasping His Arm With Her 
 Trembling Fingers, To Arrest His Progress, Looked Affrightedly Into His 
 Seared And Listless Countenance.  As She Thus Gazed On Him She Appeared 
 For The   First Time To Recognise Him.  Fear And Astonishment Mingled In 
 Her Expression With Grief And Despair As She Sunk At His Feet, Moaning 
 In Tones Of   Piercing Entreaty-- 
   
   
   
 'O Ulpius!--If Ulpius You Are--Have Pity On Me And Take Me To My 
 Father! My Father! My Father!  In All The   Lonely World There Is Nothing 
 Left To Me But My Father!' 
   
   
   
 'Why Do You Weep To Me About Your Broken Lute?' Answered Ulpius, With A 
 Dull, Unmeaning Smile; 'It Was Not I That Destroyed It!' 
   
   
   
 'They Have Slain Him!' She Shrieked Distractedly, Heedless Of   The 
 Pagan's Reply.  'I Saw Them Draw Their Swords On Him!  See, His Blood 
 Is On Me--Me!--Antonina, Whom He Protected And Loved!  Look There; That 
 Is A Grave--His Grave--I Know It!  I Have Never Seen Him Since; He Is 
 Down--Down There! Under The   Flowers I Grew To Gather For Him!  They 
 Slew Him; And When I Knew It Not, They Have Buried Him!--Or You--You 
 Have Buried Him!  You Have Hidden Him Under The   Cold Garden Earth!  He 
 Is Gone!--Ah, Gone, Gone--For Ever Gone!' 
   
   
   
 And She Flung Herself Again With Reckless Violence On The   Grave.  After 
 Looking Steadfastly On Her For A Moment, Ulpius Approached And Raised 
 Her From The   Earth. 
   
   
   
 'Come!' He Cried Angrily, 'The Night Grows On--Your Father Waits!' 
   
   
   
 'The Walls Of   Rome Shut Me From My Father!  I Shall Never See My Father 
 Nor Hermanric Again!' She Cried, In Tones Of   Bitter Anguish, 
 Remembering More Perfectly All The   Miseries Of   Her Position, And 
 Struggling To Release Herself From The   Pagan's Grasp. 
   
   
   
 The Walls Of   Rome!  At Those Words The   Mind Of   Ulpius Opened To A Flow 
 Of Dark Remembrances, And Lost The   Visions That Had Occupied It Until 
 That Moment.  He Laughed Triumphantly. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 61 
   
   
 'The Walls Of   Rome Bow To My Arm!' He Cried, In Exulting Tones; 'I 
 Pierced Them With My Good Bar Of   Iron!  I Wound Through Them With My 
 Bright Lantern!  Spirits Roared On Me, And Struck Me Down, And Grinned 
 Upon Me In The   Thick Darkness, But I Passed The   Wall!  The   Thunder 
 Pealed Around Me As I Crawled Along The   Winding Rifts; But I Won My Way 
 Through Them!  I Came Out Conquering On The   Other Side!  Come, Come, 
 Come, Come!  We Will Return!  I Know The   Track, Even In The   Darkness! 
 I Can Outwatch The   Sentinels!  You Shall Walk In The   Pathway That I 
 Have Broken Through The   Bricks! 
   
   
   
 The Girl's Features Lost For A Moment Their Expression Of   Grief, And 
 Grew Rigid With Horror, As She Glanced At His Fiery Eyes, And Felt The 
 Fearful Suspicion Of   His Insanity Darkening Over Her Mind.  She Stood 
 Powerless, Trembling, Unresisting, In His Grasp, Without Attempting To 
 Delude Him Into Departure Or To Appease Him Into Delay. 
   
   
   
 'Why Did I Make My Passage Through The   Wall?' Muttered The   Pagan In A 
 Low, Awe-Struck Voice, Suddenly Checking Himself, As He Was About To 
 Step Forward.  'Why Did I Tear Down The   Strong Brick-Work And Go Forth 
 Into The   Dark Suburbs?' 
   
   
   
 He Paused, And For A Few Moments Struggled With His Purposeless And 
 Disconnected Thoughts; But A Blank, A Darkness, An Annihilation 
 Overwhelmed Alaric And The   Gothic Camp, Which He Vainly Endeavoured To 
 Disperse.  He Sighed Bitterly To Himself--'It Is Gone!' And Still 
 Grasping Antonina By The   Hand, Drew Her After Him To The   Garden Gate. 
   
   
   
 'Leave Me!' She Shrieked, As He Passed Onward Into The   Pathway That Led 
 To The   High-Road.  'Oh, Be Merciful, And Leave Me To Die Where He Has 
 Died!' 
   
   
   
 'Peace! Or I Will Rend You Limb By Limb, As I Rent The   Stones From The 
 Wall When I Passed Through It!' He Whispered To Her In Fierce Accents, 
 As She Struggled To Escape Him.  'You Shall Return With Me To Rome! 
 You Shall Walk In The   Track That I Have Made In The   Rifted Brick-Work!' 
   
   
   
   
 Terror, Anguish, Exhaustion, Overpowered Her Weak Efforts.  Her Lips 
 Moved, Partly In Prayer And Partly In Ejaculation; But She Spoke In 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 19 ( The Guardian Restored ) Pg 62 
 Murmurs Only, As She Mechanically Suffered The   Pagan To Lead Her Onward 
 By The   Hand. 
   
   
   
 They Paced On Under The   Waning Starlight, Over The   Cold, Lonely Road, 
 And Through The   Dreary And Deserted Suburbs,--A Fearful And Discordant 
 Pair!  Coldly, Obediently, Impassively, As If She Were Walking In A 
 Dream, The   Spirit-Broken Girl Moved By The   Side Of   Her Scarce-Human 
 Leader.  Disjointed Exclamation, Alternating Horribly Between Infantine 
 Simplicity And Fierce Wickedness, Poured Incessantly From The   Pagan's 
 Lips, But He Never Addressed Himself Further To His Terror-Stricken 
 Companion.  So, Wending Rapidly Onward, They Gained The   Gothic Lines; 
 And Here The   Madman Slackened His Pace, And Paused, Beast-Like, To 
 Glare Around Him, As He Approached The   Habitations Of   Men. 
   
   
   
 Still Not Opposed By Antonina, Whose Faculties Of   Observation Were 
 Petrified By Her Terror Into Perfect Inaction, Even Here, Within Reach 
 Of The   Doubtful Aid Of   The   Enemies Of   Her People, The   Pagan Crept 
 Forward Through The   Loneliest Places Of   The   Encampment, And, Guided By 
 The Mysterious Cunning Of   His Miserable Race, Eluded Successfully The 
 Observation Of   The   Drowsy Sentinels.  Never Bewildered By The 
 Darkness--For The   Moon Had Gone Down--Always Led By The   Animal Instinct 
 Co-Existent With His Disease, He Passed Over The   Waste Ground Between 
 The Hostile Encampment And The   City, And Arrived Triumphant At The   Heap 
 Of Stones That Marked His Entrance To The   Rifted Wall. 
   
   
   
 For One Moment He Stopped, And Turning Towards The   Girl, Pointed 
 Proudly To The   Dark, Low Breach He Was About To Penetrate.  Then, 
 Drawing Her Half-Fainting Form Closer To His Side, Looking Up 
 Attentively To The   Ramparts, And Stepping As Noiselessly As Though Turf 
 Were Beneath His Feet, He Entered The   Dusky Rift With His Helpless 
 Charge. 
   
   
   
 As They Disappeared In The   Recesses Of   The   Wall, Night--The Stormy, The 
 Eventful, The   Fatal!--Reached Its Last Limit; And The   Famished Sentinel 
 On The   Fortifications Of   The   Besieged City Roused Himself From His 
 Dreary And Absorbing Thoughts, For He Saw That The   New Day Was Dawning 
 In The   East. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 63 
   
 Slowly And Mournfully The   Sentinel At The   Rifted Wall Raised His Eyes 
 Towards The   Eastern Clouds As They Brightened Before The   Advancing 
 Dawn. Desolate As Was The   Appearance Of   The   Dull, Misty Daybreak, It 
 Was Yet The   Most Welcome Of   All The   Objects Surrounding The   Starving 
 Soldier On Which He Could Fix His Languid Gaze.  To Look Back On The 
 City Behind Him Was To Look Back On The   Dreary Charnel-House Of   Famine 
 And Death; To Look Down On The   Waste Ground Without The   Walls Was To 
 Look Down On The   Dead Body Of   The   Comrade Of   His Watch, Who, Maddened 
 By The   Pangs Of   Hunger Which He Had Suffered During The   Night, Had Cast 
 Himself From The   Rampart To Meet A Welcome Death On The   Earth Beneath. 
 Famished And Despairing, The   Sentinel Crouched On The   Fortifications 
 Which He Had Now Neither Strength To Pace Nor Care To Defend, Yearning 
 For The   Food That He Had No Hope To Obtain, As He Watched The   Grey 
 Daybreak From His Solitary Post. 
   
   
   
 While He Was Thus Occupied, The   Gloomy Silence Of   The   Scene Was 
 Suddenly Broken By The   Sound Of   Falling Brick-Work At The   Inner Base Of 
 The Wall, Followed By Faint Entreaties For Mercy And Deliverance, Which 
 Rose On His Ear, Strangely Mingled With Disjointed Expression Of 
 Defiance And Exultation From A Second Voice.  He Slowly Turned His 
 Head, And, Looking Down, Saw On The   Ground Beneath A Young Girl 
 Struggling In The   Grasp Of   An Old Man, Who Was Hurrying Her Onward In 
 The Direction Of   The   Pincian Gate. 
   
   
   
   
 For One Moment The   Girl's Eye Met The   Sentinel's Vacant Glance, And She 
 Renewed, With A Last Effort Of   Strength, And A Greater Vehemence Of 
 Supplication, Her Cries For Help; But The   Soldier Neither Moved Nor 
 Answered.  Exhausted As He Was, No Sight Could Affect Him Now But The 
 Sight Of   Food.  Like The   Rest Of   The   Citizens, He Was Sunk In A Heavy 
 Stupor Of   Starvation--Selfish, Reckless, Brutalised. No Disasters Could 
 Depress, No Atrocities Rouse Him.  Famine Had Torn Asunder Every Social 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 64 
 Tie, Had Withered Every Human Sympathy Among His Besieged 
 Fellow-Citizens, And He Was Famishing Like Them. 
   
   
   
 At The   Moment When The   Dawn Had First Appeared, Could He Have Looked 
 Down By Some Mysterious Agency To The   Interior Foundations Of   The   Wall, 
 From The   Rampart On Which He Kept His Weary Watch, Such A Sight Must 
 Then Have Presented Itself As Would Have Aroused Even His Sluggish 
 Observation To Rigid Attention And Involuntary Surprise. 
   
   
   
 Winding Upward And Downward Among Jagged Masses Of   Ruined Brick-Work, 
 Now Lost Amid The   Shadows Of   Dreary Chasms, Now Prominent Over The 
 Elevations Of   Rising Arches, The   Dark Irregular Passages Broken By 
 Ulpius In The   Rotten Wall Would Then Have Presented Themselves To His 
 Eyes; Not Stretching Forth In Dismal Solitude, Not Peopled Only By The 
 Reptiles Native To The   Place, But Traced In All Their Mazes By Human 
 Forms.  Then He Would Have Perceived The   Fierce, Resolute Pagan, Moving 
 Through Darkness And Obstacles With A Sure, Solemn Progress, Drawing 
 After Him, Like A Dog Devoted To His Will, The   Young Girl Whose Hapless 
 Fate Had Doomed Her To Fall Into His Power.  Her Half-Fainting Figure 
 Might Have Been Seen, Sometimes Prostrate On The   Higher Places Of   The 
 Breach, While Her Fearful Guide Descended Before Her Into A Chasm 
 Beyond, And Then Turned To Drag Her After Him To A Darker And A Lower 
 Depth Yet; Sometimes Bent In Supplication, When Her Lips Moved Once 
 More With A Last Despairing Entreaty, And Her Limbs Trembled With A 
 Final Effort To Escape From Her Captor's Relentless Grasp.  While 
 Still, Through All That Opposed Him, The   Same Fierce Tenacity Of 
 Purpose Would Have Been Invariably Visible In Every Action Of   Ulpius, 
 Constantly Confirming Him In His Mad Resolution To Make His Victim The 
 Follower Of   His Progress Through The   Wall, Ever Guiding Him With A 
 Strange Instinct Through Every Hindrance, And Preserving Him From Every 
 Danger In His Path, Until It Brought Him Forth Triumphant, With His 
 Prisoner Still In His Power, Again Free To Tread The   Desolate Streets 
 And Mingle With The   Famine-Stricken Citizens Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 And Now When, After Peril And Anguish, She Once More Stood Within The 
 City Of   Her Home, What Hope Remained To Antonina Of   Obtaining Her Last 
 Refuge Under Her Father's Roof, And Deriving Her Solitary Consolation 
 From The   Effort To Regain Her Father's Love?  With The   Termination Of 
 His Passage Through The   Breach In The   Wall Had Ended Every Recollection 
 Associated With It In The   Pagan's Shattered Memory.  A New Blank Now 
 Pervaded His Lost Faculties, Desolate As That Which Had Overwhelmed 
 Them In The   Night When He First Stood In The   Farm-House Garden By The 
 Young Chieftain's Grave.  He Moved Onward, Unobservant, Unthinking, 
 Without Aim Or Hope, Driven By A Mysterious Restlessness, Forgetting 
 The Very Presence Of   Antonina As She Followed Him, But Still 
 Mechanically Grasping Her Hand, And Dragging Her After Him He Knew Not 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 65 
 Whither. 
   
   
   
 And She, On Her Part, Made No Effort More For Deliverance.  She Had 
 Seen The   Sentinel Unmoved By Her Entreaties, She Had Seen The   Walls Of 
 Her Father's House Receding From Her Longing Eyes, As Ulpius Pitilessly 
 Hurried Her Father And Farther From Its Distant Door; And She Lost The 
 Last Faint Hope Of   Restoration, The   Last Lingering Desire Of   Life, As 
 The Sense Of   Her Helplessness Now Weighed Heaviest On Her Mind.  Her 
 Heart Was Full Of   Her Young Warrior, Who Had Been Slain, And Of   Her 
 Father, From Whom She Had Parted In The   Hour Of   His Wrath, As She Now 
 Feebly Followed The   Pagan's Steps, And Resigned Herself To A Speedy 
 Exhaustion And Death In Her Utter Despair. 
   
   
   
   
 They Turned From The   Pincian Gate And Gained The   Campus Martius; And 
 Here The   Aspect Of   The   Besieged City And The   Condition Of   Its Doomed 
 Inhabitants Were Fully And Fearfully Disclosed To View. On The   Surface 
 Of The   Noble Area, Once Thronged With Bustling Crowds Passing To And 
 Fro In Every Direction As Their Various Destinations Or Caprices Might 
 Lead Them, Not Twenty Moving Figures Were Now Discernible.  These Few, 
 Who Still Retained Their Strength Or The   Resolution To Pace The 
 Greatest Thoroughfare Of   Rome, Stalked Backwards And Forwards 
 Incessantly, Their Hollow Eyes Fixed On Vacancy, Their Wan Hands 
 Pressed Over Their Mouths; Each Separate, Distrustful, And Silent; 
 Fierce As Imprisoned Madmen; Restless As Spectres Disturbed In A Place 
 Of Tombs. 
   
   
   
 Such Were The   Citizens Who Still Moved Over The   Campus Martius; And, 
 Besetting Their Path Wherever They Turned, Lay The   Gloomy Numbers Of 
 The Dying And The   Dead--The Victims Already Stricken By The   Pestilence 
 Which Had Now Arisen In The   Infected City, And Joined The   Famine In Its 
 Work Of   Desolation And Death.  Around The   Public Fountains, Where The 
 Water Still Bubbled Up As Freshly As In The   Summer-Time Of   Prosperity 
 And Peace, The   Poorer Population Of   Beleaguered Rome Had Chiefly 
 Congregated To Expire.  Some Still Retained Strength Enough To Drink 
 Greedily At The   Margin Of   The   Stone Basins, Across Which Others Lay 
 Dead--Their Heads And Shoulders Immersed In The   Water--Drowned From 
 Lack Of   Strength To Draw Back After Their First Draught.  Children 
 Mounted Over The   Dead Bodies Of   Their Parents To Raise Themselves To 
 The Fountain's Brim; Parents Stared Vacantly At The   Corpses Of   Their 
 Children Alternately Floating And Sinking In The   Water, Into Which They 
 Had Fallen Unsuccoured And Unmourned. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 66 
 In Other Parts Of   The   Place, At The   Open Gates Of   The   Theatres And 
 Hippodromes, In The   Unguarded Porticoes Of   The   Palaces And The   Baths 
 Lay The   Discoloured Bodies Of   Those Who Had Died Ere They Could Reach 
 The Fountains--Of Women And Children Especially--Surrounded In 
 Frightful Contrast By The   Abandoned Furniture Of   Luxury And The 
 Discarded Inventions Of   Vice--By Gilded Couches--By Inlaid Tables--By 
 Jewelled Cornices--By Obscene Picture And Statues--By Brilliantly 
 Framed, Gaudily Tinted Manuscripts Of   Licentious Songs, Still Hanging 
 At Their Accustomed Places On The   Lofty Marble Walls.  Farther On, In 
 The By-Streets And The   Retired Courts, Where The   Corpse Of   The 
 Tradesman Was Stretched On His Empty Counter; Where The   Soldier Of   The 
 City Guard Dropped Down Overpowered Ere He Reached The   Limit Of   His 
 Rounds; Where The   Wealthy Merchant Lay Pestilence-Stricken Upon The 
 Last Hoards Of   Repulsive Food Which His Gold Had Procured; The   Assassin 
 And The   Robber Might Be Seen--Now Greedily Devouring The   Offal That Lay 
 Around Them, Now Falling Dead Upon The   Bodies Which They Had Rifled But 
 The Moment Before. 
   
   
   
 Over The   Whole Prospect, Far And Near, Wherever It Might Extend, 
 Whatever The   Horrors By Which It Might Be Occupied, Was Spread A Blank, 
 Supernatural Stillness.  Not A Sound Arose; The   Living Were As Silent 
 As The   Dead; Crime, Suffering, Despair, Were All Voiceless Alike; The 
 Trumpet Was Unheard In The   Guard-House; The   Bell Never Rang From The 
 Church; Even The   Thick, Misty Rain, That Now Descended From The   Black 
 And Unmoving Clouds, And Obscured In Cold Shadows The   Outlines Of 
 Distant Buildings And The   Pinnacle Tops Of   Mighty Palaces, Fell 
 Noiseless To The   Ground.  The   Sky Had No Wind; The   Earth No Echoes--The 
 Pervading Desolation Appalled The   Eye; The   Vast Stillness Weighed Dull 
 On The   Ear--It Was A Scene As Of   The   Last-Left City Of   An Exhausted 
 World, Decaying Noiselessly Into Primeval Chaos. 
   
   
   
 Through This Atmosphere Of   Darkness And Death, Along These Paths Of 
 Pestilence And Famine; Unregarding And Unregarded, The   Pagan And His 
 Prisoner Passed Slowly Onward Towards The   Quarter Of   The   City Opposite 
 The Pincian Mount.  No Ray Of   Thought, Even Yet, Brightened The   Dull 
 Faculties Of   Ulpius; Still He Walked Forward Vacantly, And Still He Was 
 Followed Wearily By The   Fast-Failing Girl. 
   
   
   
 Sunk In Her Mingled Stupor Of   Bodily Weakness And Mental Despair, She 
 Never Spoke, Never Raised Her Head, Never Looked Forth On The   One Side 
 Or The   Other.  She Had Now Ceased Even To Feel The   Strong, Cold Grasp 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 67 
 Of The   Pagan's Hand.  Shadowy Visions Of   Spheres Beyond The   World, 
 Arrayed In Enchanting Beauty, And People With Happy Spirits In Their 
 Old Earthly Forms, Where A Long Deathless Existence Moved Smoothly And 
 Dreamily Onward, Without Mark Of   Time Or Taint Of   Woe, Were Opening 
 Before Her Mind.  She Lost All Memory Of   Afflictions And Wrongs, All 
 Apprehension Of   Danger From The   Madman At Whose Mercy She Remained. 
 And Thus She Still Moved Feebly Onward As The   Will Of   Ulpius Guided 
 Her, With No Observation Of   Her Present Peril, And No Anxiety For Her 
 Impending Fate. 
   
   
   
   
 They Passed The   Grand Circular Structure Of   The   Pantheon, Entered The 
 Long Narrow Streets Leading To The   Banks Of   The   River, And Finally 
 Gained The   Margin Of   The   Tiber--Hard By The   Little Island That Still 
 Rises In The   Midst Of   Its Waters.  Here, For The   First Time, The   Pagan 
 Paused Mechanically In His Course, And Vacantly Directed His Dull, 
 Dreamy Eyes On The   Prospect Before Him, Where The   Walls, Stretching 
 Abruptly Outward From Their Ordinary Direction, Enclosed The   Janiculum 
 Hill, As It Rose With Its Irregular Mass Of   Buildings On The   Opposite 
 Bank Of   The   River. 
   
   
   
 At This Sudden Change From Action To Repose, The   Overtasked Energies 
 Which Had Hitherto Gifted The   Limbs Of   Antonina With An Unnatural Power 
 Of Endurance, Abruptly Relaxed.  She Sank Down Helpless And Silent; Her 
 Head Drooped Towards The   Hard Ground, As Towards A Welcome Pillow, But 
 Found No Support, For The   Pagan's Iron Grasp Of   Her Hand Remained 
 Unyielding As Ever.  Infirm Though He Was, He Appeared At This Moment 
 To Be Unconscious That His Prisoner Was Now Hanging At His Side.  Every 
 Association Connected With Her, Every Recollection Of   His Position With 
 Her In Her Father's House, Had Vanished From His Memory.  A Darker 
 Blindness Seemed To Have Sunk Over His Bodily Perceptions; His Eyes 
 Rolled Slowly To And Fro Over The   Prospect Before Him, But Regarded 
 Nothing; His Panting Breaths Came Thick And Fast; His Shrunk Chest 
 Heaved As If Some Deep, Dread Agony Were Pent Within It--It Was Evident 
 That A New Crisis In His Insanity Was At Hand. 
   
   
   
 At This Moment One Of   The   Bands Of   Marauders--The Desperate Criminals 
 Of Famine And Plague--Who Still Prowled Through The   City, Appeared In 
 The Street.  Their Trembling Hands Sought Their Weapons, And Their 
 Haggard Faces Brightened, When They First Discerned The   Pagan And The 
 Girl; But As They Approached Nearer They Saw Enough In The   Figures Of 
 The Two, At A Glance, To Destroy Their Hopes Of   Seizing On Them Either 
 Plunder Or Food.  For An Instant They Stood By Their Intended Victims, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 68 
 As If Debating Whether To Murder Them Only For Murder's Sake, When The 
 Appearance Of   Two Women, Stealthily Quitting A House Farther On In The 
 Street, Carrying A Basket Covered By Some Tattered Garments, Attracted 
 Their Attention.  They Turned Instantly To Follow The   Bearers Of   The 
 Basket, And Again Ulpius And Antonina Were Left Alone On The   River's 
 Bank. 
   
   
   
 The Appearance Of   The   Assassins Had Been Powerless, As Every Other 
 Sight Or Event In The   City, In Arousing The   Faculties Of   Ulpius.  He 
 Had Neither Looked On Them Nor Fled From Them When They Surrounded Him; 
 But Now When They Were Gone He Slowly Turned His Head In The   Direction 
 By Which They Had Departed.  His Gaze Wandered Over The   Wet Flagstones 
 Of The   Street, Over Two Corpses Stretched On Them At A Little Distance, 
 Over The   Figure Of   A Female Slave Who Lay Forsaken Near The   Wall Of   One 
 Of The   Houses, Exerting Her Last Energies To Drink From The   Turbid 
 Rain-Water Which Ran Down The   Kennel By Her Side; And Still His Eyes 
 Remained Unregardful Of   All That They Encountered. The   Next Object 
 Which By Chance Attracted His Vacant Attention Was A Deserted Temple. 
 This Solitary Building Fixed Him Immediately In Contemplation--It Was 
 Destined To Open A New And A Warning Scene In The   Dark Tragedy Of   His 
 Closing Life. 
   
   
   
 In His Course Through The   City He Had Passed Unheeded Many Temples Far 
 More Prominent In Situation, Far More Imposing In Structure, Than This. 
 It Was A Building Of   No Remarkable Extent Or Extraordinary Beauty.  Its 
 Narrow Porticoes And Dark Doorway Were More Fitted To Repel Than To 
 Invite The   Eye; But It Had One Attraction, Powerful Above All Glories 
 Of Architecture And All Grandeur Of   Situation To Arrest In Him Those 
 Wandering Faculties Whose Sterner And Loftier Aims Were Now Suspended 
 For Ever; It Was Dedicated To Serapis--To The   Idol Which Had Been The 
 Deity Of   His First Worship, And The   Inspiration Of   His Last Struggle 
 For The   Restoration Of   His Faith.  The   Image Of   The   God, With The 
 Three-Headed Monster Encircled By A Serpent, Obedient Beneath His Hand, 
 Was Carved Over The   Portico. 
   
   
   
   
 What Flood Of   Emotions Rushed Into The   Vacant Mind Of   Ulpius At The 
 Instant When He Discerned The   Long-Loved, Well-Known Image Of   The 
 Egyptian God, There Was Nothing For Some Moments Outwardly Visible In 
 Him To Betray.  His Moral Insensibility Appeared But To Be Deepened As 
 His Gaze Was Now Fixed With Rigid Intensity On The   Temple Portico. 
 Thus He Continued To Remain Motionless, As If What He Saw Had Petrified 
 Him Where He Stood, When The   Clouds, Which Had Been Closing In Deeper 
 And Deeper Blackness As The   Morning Advanced, And Which, Still Charged 
 With Electricity, Were Gathering To Revive The   Storm Of   The   Past Night, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 69 
 Burst Abruptly Into A Loud Peal Of   Thunder Over His Head. 
   
   
   
 At That Warning Sound, As If It Had Been The   Supernatural Signal 
 Awaited To Arouse Him, As If In One Brief Moment It Awakened Every 
 Recollection Of   All That He Had Resolutely Attempted During The   Night 
 Of Thunder That Was Past, He Started Into Instant Animation.  His 
 Countenance Brightened, His Form Expanded, He Dropped The   Hand Of 
 Antonina, Raised His Arm Aloft Towards The   Wrathful Heaven In Frantic 
 Triumph, Then Staggering Forwards, Fell On His Knees At The   Base Of   The 
 Temple Steps. 
   
   
   
 Whatever The   Remembrances Of   His Passage Through The   Wall At The 
 Pincian Hill, And Of   The   Toil And Peril Succeeding It, Which Had 
 Revived When The   Thunder First Sounded In His Ear, They Now Vanished As 
 Rapidly As They Had Arisen, And Left His Wandering Memory Free To 
 Revert To The   Scenes Which The   Image Of   Serapis Was Most Fitted To 
 Recall. Recollections Of   His Boyish Enjoyments In The   Temple At 
 Alexandria, Of   His Youth's Enthusiasm, Of   The   Triumphs Of   His Early 
 Manhood--All Disjointed And Wayward, Yet All Bright, Glorious, 
 Intoxicating--Flashed Before His Shattered Mind.  Tears, The   First That 
 He Had Shed Since His Happy Youth, Flowed Quickly Down His Withered 
 Cheeks.  He Pressed His Hot Forehead, He Beat His Parched Hand In 
 Ecstasy On The   Cold, Wet Steps Beneath Him.  He Muttered Breathless 
 Ejaculations, He Breathed Strange Murmurs Of   Endearment, He Humbled 
 Himself In His Rapturous Delight Beneath The   Walls Of   The   Temple Like A 
 Dog That Has Discovered His Lost Master And Fawns Affectionately At His 
 Feet.  Criminal As He Was, His Joy In His Abasement, His Glory In His 
 Miserable Isolation From Humanity, Was A Doom Of   Degradation Pitiable 
 To Behold. 
   
   
   
 After An Interval His Mood Changed.  He Rose To His Feet, His Trembling 
 Limbs Strengthened With A Youthful Vigour As He Ascended The   Temple 
 Steps And Gained Its Doorway.  He Turned For A Moment, And Looked Forth 
 Over The   Street, Ere He Entered The   Hallowed Domain Of   His Distempered 
 Imagination.  To Him The   Cloudy Sky Above Was Now Shining With The 
 Radiance Of   The   Sun-Bright East.  The   Death-Laden Highways Of   Rome, As 
 They Stretched Before Him, Were Beautiful With Lofty Trees, And 
 Populous With Happy Figures; And Along The   Dark Flagstones Beneath, 
 Where Still Lay The   Corpses Which He Had No Eye To See, He Beheld 
 Already The   Priests Of   Serapis With His Revered Guardian, His Beloved 
 Macrinus Of   Former Days, At Their Head, Advancing To Meet And Welcome 
 Him In The   Hall Of   The   Egyptian God.  Visions Such As These Passed 
 Gloriously Before The   Pagan's Eyes As He Stood Triumphant On The   Steps 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 70 
 Of The   Temple, And Brightened To Him With A Noonday Light Its Dusky 
 Recesses When, After His Brief Delay, He Turned From The   Street And 
 Disappeared Through The   Doorway Of   The   Sacred Place. 
   
   
   
 The Rain Poured Down More Thickly Than Before; The   Thunder, Once 
 Aroused, Now Sounded In Deep And Frequent Peals As Antonina Raised 
 Herself From The   Ground And Looked Around Her, In Momentary Expectation 
 That The   Dreaded Form Of   Ulpius Must Meet Her Eyes.  No Living Creature 
 Was Visible In The   Street.  The   Forsaken Slave Still Reclined Near The 
 Wall Of   The   House Where She Had First Appeared When The   Pagan Gained 
 The Approaches To The   Temple; But She Now Lay There Dead.  No Fresh 
 Bands Of   Robbers Appeared In Sight.  An Uninterrupted Solitude 
 Prevailed In All Directions As Far As The   Eye Could Reach. 
   
   
   
 At The   Moment When Ulpius Had Relinquished His Grasp Of   Her Hand, 
 Antonina Had Sunk To The   Ground, Helpless And Resigned, But Not 
 Exhausted Beyond All Power Of   Sensation Or All Capacity For Thought. 
 While She Lay On The   Cold Pavement Of   The   Street, Her Mind Still 
 Pursued Its Visions Of   A Speedy Death, And A Tranquil Life-In-Death To 
 Succeed It In A Future State.  But, As Minute After Minute Elapsed, And 
 No Harsh Voice Sounded In Her Ear, No Pitiless Hand Dragged Her From 
 The Ground, No Ominous Footsteps Were Audible Around Her, A Change 
 Passed Gradually Over Her Thoughts; The   Instinct Of   Self-Preservation 
 Slowly Revived Within Her, And, As She Raised Herself To Look Forth On 
 The Gloomy Prospect, The   Chances Of   Uninterrupted Flight And Present 
 Safety Presented By The   Solitude Of   The   Street, Aroused Her Like A 
 Voice Of   Encouragement, Like An Unexpected Promise Of   Help. 
   
   
   
   
 Her Perception Of   Outer Influences Returned; She Felt The   Rain That 
 Drenched Her Garments; She Shuddered At The   Thunder Sounding Over Her 
 Head; She Marked With Horror The   Dead Bodies Lying Before Her On The 
 Stones.  An Overpowering Desire Animated Her To Fly From The   Place, To 
 Escape From The   Desolate Scene Around, Even Though She Should Sink 
 Exhausted By The   Effort In The   Next Street. Slowly She Arose--Her Limbs 
 Trembled With A Premature Infirmity; But She Gained Her Feet.  She 
 Tottered Onward, Turning Her Back On The   River, Passed Bewildered 
 Between Long Rows Of   Deserted Houses, And Arrived Opposite A Public 
 Garden Surrounding A Little Summer-House, Whose Deserted Portico 
 Offered Both Concealment And Shelter.  Here, Therefore, She Took 
 Refuge, Crouching In The   Darkest Corner Of   The   Building, And Hiding Her 
 Face In Her Hands, As If To Shut Out All View Of   The   Dreary Though 
 Altered Scenes Which Spread Before Her Eyes. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 71 
   
 Woeful Thoughts And Recollections Now Moved Within Her In Bewildering 
 Confusion.  All That She Had Suffered Since Ulpius Had Dragged Her From 
 The Farm-House In The   Suburbs--The Night Pilgrimage Over The   Plain--The 
 Fearful Passage Through The   Wall--Revived In Her Memory, Mingled With 
 Vague Ideas, Now For The   First Time Aroused, Of   The   Plague And Famine 
 That Were Desolating The   City; And, With Sudden Apprehensions That 
 Goisvintha Might Still Be Following Her, Knife In Hand, Through The 
 Lonely Streets; While Passively Prominent Over All These Varying 
 Sources Of   Anguish And Dread, The   Scene Of   The   Young Chieftain's Death 
 Lay Like A Cold Weight On Her Heavy Heart.  The   Damp Turf Of   His Grave 
 Seemed Still To Press Against Her Breast; His Last Kiss Yet Trembled On 
 Her Lips; She Knew, Though She Dared Not Look Down On Them, That The 
 Spots Of   His Blood Yet Stained Her Garments. 
   
   
   
 Whether She Strove To Rise And Continue Her Flight; Whether She 
 Crouched Down Again Under The   Portico, Resigned For One Bitter Moment 
 To Perish By The   Knife Of   Goisvintha--If Goisvintha Were Near; To Fall 
 Once More Into The   Hands Of   Ulpius--If Ulpius Were Tracking Her To Her 
 Retreat,--The Crushing Sense That She Was Utterly Bereaved Of   Her 
 Beloved Protector--That The   Friend Of   Her Brief Days Of   Happiness Was 
 Lost To Her For Ever--That Hermanric, Who Had Preserved Her From Death, 
 Had Been Murdered In His Youth And His Strength By Her Side, Never 
 Deserted Her. Since The   Assassination In The   Farm-House, She Was Now 
 For The   First Time Alone; And Now For The   First Time She Felt The   Full 
 Severity Of   Her Affliction, And Knew How Dark Was The   Blank Which Was 
 Spread Before Every Aspiration Of   Her Future Life. 
   
   
   
 Enduring, Almost Eternal, As The   Burden Of   Her Desolation Seemed Now To 
 Have Become, It Was Yet To Be Removed, Ere Long, By Feelings Of   A 
 Tenderer Mournfulness And A More Resigned Woe.  The   Innate And Innocent 
 Fortitude Of   Disposition, Which Had Made Her Patient Under The   Rigour 
 Of Her Youthful Education, And Hopeful Under The   Trials That Assailed 
 Her On Her Banishment From Her Father's House; Which Had Never Deserted 
 Her Until The   Awful Scenes Of   The   Past Night Of   Assassination And Death 
 Rose In Triumphant Horror Before Her Eyes; And Which, Even Then, Had 
 Been Suspended But Not Destroyed--Was Now Destined To Regain Its 
 Healing Influence Over Her Heart.  As She Still Cowered In Her Lonely 
 Refuge, The   Final Hope, The   Yearning Dependence On A Restoration To Her 
 Father's Presence And Her Father's Love, That Had Moved Her Over The 
 Young Chieftain's Grave, And Had Prompted Her Last Effort For Freedom 
 When Ulpius Had Dragged Her Through The   Passage In The   Rifted Wall, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 72 
 Suddenly Revived. 
   
   
   
   
 Once More She Arose, And Looked Forth On The   Desolate City And The 
 Stormy Sky, But Now With Mild And Unshrinking Eyes.  Her Recollections 
 Of The   Past Grew Tender In Their Youthful Grief; Her Thoughts For The 
 Future Became Patient, Solemn, And Serene.  Images Of   Her First And Her 
 Last-Left Protector, Of   Her Old Familiar Home, Of   Her Garden Solitude 
 On The   Pincian Mount, Spread Beautiful Before Her Imagination As 
 Resting-Places To Her Weary Heart.  She Descended The   Steps Of   The 
 Summer-House With No Apprehension Of   Her Enemies, No Doubt Of   Her 
 Resolution; For She Knew The   Beacon That Was Now To Direct Her Onward 
 Course.  The   Tears Gathered Full In Her Eyes As She Passed Into The 
 Garden; But Her Step Never Faltered, Her Features Never Lost Their 
 Combined Expression Of   Tranquil Sorrow And Subdued Hope.  So She Once 
 More Entered The   Perilous Streets, And Murmuring To Herself, 'My 
 Father! My Father!' As If In Those Simple Words Lay The   Hand That Was 
 To Guide, And The   Providence That Was To Preserved Her, She Began To 
 Trace Her Solitary Way In The   Direction Of   The   Pincian Mount. 
   
   
   
 It Was A Spectacle--Touching, Beautiful, Even Sublime--To See This 
 Young Girl, But A Few Hours Freed, By Perilous Paths And By Criminal 
 Hands, From Scenes Which Had Begun In Treachery, Only To End In Death, 
 Now Passing, Resolute And Alone, Through The   Streets Of   A Mighty City, 
 Overwhelmed By All That Is Poignant In Human Anguish And Hideous In 
 Human Crime.  It Was A Noble Evidence Of   The   Strong Power Over The 
 World And The   World's Perils, With Which The   Simplest Affection May Arm 
 The Frailest Being--To Behold Her Thus Pursuing Her Way, Superior To 
 Every Horror Of   Desolation And Death That Clogged Her Path, 
 Unconsciously Discovering In The   Softly Murmured Name Of   'Father', 
 Which Still Fell At Intervals From Her Lips, The   Pure Purpose That 
 Sustained Her--The Steady Heroism That Ever Held Her In Her Doubtful 
 Course.  The   Storms Of   Heaven Poured Over Her Head--The Crimes And 
 Sufferings Of   Rome Darkened The   Paths Of   Her Pilgrimage; But She Passed 
 Firmly Onward Through All, Like A Ministering Spirit, Journeying Along 
 Earthly Shores In The   Bright Inviolability Of   Its Merciful Mission And 
 Its Holy Thoughts--Like A Ray Of   Light Living In The   Strength Of   Its 
 Own Beauty, Amid The   Tempest And Obscurity Of   A Stranger Sphere. 
   
   
   
 Once More She Entered The   Campus Martius.  Again She Passed The   Public 
 Fountains, Still Unnaturally Devoted To Serve As Beds For The   Dying And 
 As Sepulchres For The   Dead; Again She Trod The   Dreary Highways, Where 
 The Stronger Among The   Famished Populace Yet Paced Hither And Thither 
 In Ferocious Silence And Unsocial Separation.  No Word Was Addressed, 
 Hardly A Look Was Directed To Her, As She Pursued Her Solitary Course. 
 She Was Desolate Among The   Desolate; Forsaken Among Others Abandoned 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 73 
 Like Herself. 
   
   
   
 The Robber, When He Passed Her By, Saw That She Was Worthless For The 
 Interests Of   Plunder As The   Poorest Of   The   Dying Citizens Around Him. 
 The Patrician, Loitering Feebly Onward To The   Shelter Of   His Palace 
 Halls, Avoided Her As A New Suppliant Among The   People For The   Charity 
 Which He Had Not To Bestow, And Quickened His Pace As She Approached 
 Him In The   Street.  Unprotected, Yet Unmolested, Hurrying From Her 
 Loneliness And Her Bitter Recollections To The   Refuge Of   Her Father's 
 Love, As She Would Have Hurried When A Child From Her First 
 Apprehension Of   Ill To The   Refuge Of   Her Father's Arms, She Gained At 
 Length The   Foot Of   The   Pincian Hill--At Length Ascended The   Streets So 
 Often Trodden In The   Tranquil Days Of   Old! 
   
   
   
 The Portals And Outer Buildings Of   Vetranio's Palace, As She Passed 
 Them, Presented A Striking And Ominous Spectacle.  Within The   Lofty 
 Steel Railings, Which Protected The   Building, The   Famine-Wasted Slaves 
 Of The   Senator Appeared Reeling And Tottering Beneath Full Vases Of 
 Wine Which They Were Feebly Endeavouring To Carry Into The   Interior 
 Apartments.  Gaudy Hangings Drooped From The   Balconies, Garlands Of   Ivy 
 Were Wreathed Round The   Statues Of   The   Marble Front.  In The   Midst Of 
 The Besieged City, And In Impious Mockery Of   The   Famine And Pestilence 
 Which Were Wasting It, Hut And Palace, To Its Remotest Confines, Were 
 Proceeding In This Devoted Dwelling The   Preparations For A Triumphant 
 Feast! 
   
   
   
 Unheedful Of   The   Startling Prospect Presented By Vetranio's Abode, Her 
 Eyes Bent But In One Absorbing Direction, Her Steps Hurrying Faster And 
 Faster With Each Succeeding Instant, Antonina Approached The   Home From 
 Which She Had Been Exiled In Fear, And To Which She Was Returning In 
 Woe.  Yet A Moment More Of   Strong Exertion, Of   Overpowering 
 Anticipation, And She Reached The   Garden Gate! 
   
   
   
 She Dashed Back The   Heavy Hair Matted Over Her Brows By The   Rain; She 
 Glanced Rapidly Around Her; She Beheld The   Window Of   Her Bed-Chamber 
 With The   Old Simple Curtain Still Hanging At Its Accustomed Place; She 
 Saw The   Well-Remembered Trees, The   Carefully Tended Flower-Beds, Now 
 Drooping Mournfully Beneath The   Gloomy Sky.  Her Heart Swelled Within 
 Her, Her Breath Seemed Suddenly Arrested In Her Bosom, As She Trod The 
 Garden Path And Ascended The   Steps Beyond.  The   Door At The   Top Was 
 Ajar.  With A Last Effort She Thrust It Open, And Stood Once 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 20 ( The Breach Repassed  ) Pg 74 
 More--Unaided And Unwelcomed, Yet Hopeful Of   Consolation, Of   Pardon, Of 
 Love--Within Her First And Last Sanctuary, The   Walls Of   Her Home! 
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 75 
   
 Forsaken As It Appears On An Outward View, During The   Morning Of   Which 
 We Now Write, The   House Of   Numerian Is Yet Not Tenantless.  In One Of 
 The Sleeping Apartments, Stretched On His Couch, With None To Watch By 
 Its Side, Lies The   Master Of   The   Little Dwelling.  We Last Beheld Him 
 On The   Scene Mingled With The   Famishing Congregation In The   Basilica Of 
 St. John Lateran, Still Searching For His Child Amid The   Confusion Of 
 The Public Distribution Of   Food During The   Earlier Stages Of   The 
 Misfortunes Of   Besieged Rome.  Since That Time He Has Toiled And 
 Suffered Much; And Now The   Day Of   Exhaustion, Long Deferred, The   Hours 
 Of Helpless Solitude, Constantly Dreaded, Have At Length Arrived. 
   
   
   
 From The   First Periods Of   The   Siege, While All Around Him In The   City 
 Moved Gloomily Onward Through Darker And Darker Changes, While Famine 
 Rapidly Merged Into Pestilence And Death, While Human Hopes And 
 Purposes Gradually Diminished And Declined With Each Succeeding Day, He 
 Alone Remained Ever Devoted To The   Same Labour, Ever Animated By The 
 Same Object--The Only One Among All His Fellow-Citizens Whom No Outward 
 Event Could Influence For Good Or Evil, For Hope Or Fear. 
   
   
   
 In Every Street Of   Rome, At All Hours, Among All Ranks Of   People, He 
 Was Still To Be Seen Constantly Pursuing The   Same Hopeless Search. 
 When The   Mob Burst Furiously Into The   Public Granaries To Seize The 
 Last Supplies Of   Corn Hoarded For The   Rich, He Was Ready At The   Doors 
 Watching Them As They Came Out.  When Rows Of   Houses Were Deserted By 
 All But The   Dead, He Was Beheld Within, Passing From Window To Window, 
 As He Sought Through Each Room For The   Treasure That He Had Lost.  When 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 76 
 Some Few Among The   Populace, In The   First Days Of   The   Pestilence, 
 United In The   Vain Attempt To Cast Over The   Lofty Walls The   Corpses 
 That Strewed The   Street, He Mingled With Them To Look On The   Rigid 
 Faces Of   The   Dead.  In Solitary Places, Where The   Parent, Not Yet Lost 
 To Affection, Strove To Carry His Dying Child From The   Desert Roadway 
 To The   Shelter Of   A Roof; Where The   Wife, Still Faithful To Her Duties, 
 Received Her Husband's Last Breath In Silent Despair--He Was Seen 
 Gliding By Their Sides, And For One Brief Instant Looking On Them With 
 Attentive And Mournful Eyes. Wherever He Went, Whatever He Beheld, He 
 Asked No Sympathy And Sought No Aid.  He Went His Way, A Pilgrim On A 
 Solitary Path, An Unregarded Expectant For A Boon That No Others Would 
 Care To Partake. 
   
   
   
 When The   Famine First Began To Be Felt In The   City, He Seemed 
 Unconscious Of   Its Approach--He Made No Effort To Procure Beforehand 
 The Provision Of   A Few Days' Sustenance; If He Attended The   First 
 Public Distributions Of   Food, It Was Only To Prosecute His Search For 
 His Child Amid The   Throng Around Him.  He Must Have Perished With The 
 First Feeble Victims Of   Starvation, Had He Not Been Met, During His 
 Solitary Wanderings, By Some Of   The   Members Of   The   Congregation Whom 
 His Piety And Eloquence Had Collected In Former Days. 
   
   
   
 By These Persons, Who Entreaties That He Would Suspend His Hopeless 
 Search He Always Answered With The   Same Firm And Patient Denial, His 
 Course Was Carefully Watched And His Wants Anxiously Provided For.  Out 
 Of Every Supply Of   Food Which They Were Enabled To Collect, His Share 
 Was Invariably Carried To His Abode.  They Remembered Their Teacher In 
 The Hour Of   His Dejection, As They Had Formerly Reverenced Him In The 
 Day Of   His Vigour; They Toiled To Preserve His Life As Anxiously As 
 They Had Laboured To Profit By His Instructions; They Listened As His 
 Disciples Once, They Served Him As His Children Now. 
   
   
   
 But Over These, As Over All Other Offices Of   Human Kindness, The   Famine 
 Was Destined Gradually And Surely To Prevail.  The   Provision Of   Food 
 Garnered Up By The   Congregation Ominously Lessened With Each Succeeding 
 Day.  When The   Pestilence Began Darkly To Appear, The   Numbers Of   Those 
 Who Sought Their Afflicted Teacher At His Abode, Or Followed Him 
 Through The   Dreary Streets, Fatally Decreased. 
   
   
   
   
 Then, As The   Nourishment Which Had Supported, And The   Vigilance Which 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 77 
 Had Watched Him, Thus Diminished, So Did The   Hard-Tasked Energies Of 
 The Unhappy Father Fail Him Faster And Faster.  Each Morning As He 
 Arose, His Steps Were More Feeble, His Heart Grew Heavier Within Him, 
 His Wanderings Through The   City Were Less And Less Resolute And 
 Prolonged. At Length His Powers Totally Deserted Him; The   Last-Left 
 Members Of   His Congregation, As They Approached His Abode With The 
 Last-Left Provision Of   Food Which They Possessed, Found Him Prostrate 
 With Exhaustion At His Garden Gate.  They Bore Him To His Couch, Placed 
 Their Charitable Offering By His Side, And Leaving One Of   Their Number 
 To Protect Him From The   Robber And The   Assassin, They Quitted The   House 
 In Despair. 
   
   
   
 For Some Days The   Guardian Remained Faithful To His Post, Until His 
 Sufferings From Lack Of   Food Overpowered His Vigilance.  Dreading That, 
 In His Extremity, He Might Be Tempted To Take From The   Old Man's Small 
 Store Of   Provision What Little Remained, He Fled From The   House, To 
 Seek Sustenance, However Loathsome, In The   Public Streets; And 
 Thenceforth Numerian Was Left Defenceless In His Solitary Abode. 
   
   
   
 He Was First Beheld On The   Scenes Which These Pages Present, A Man Of 
 Austere Purpose, Of   Unwearied Energy; A Valiant Reformer, Who Defied 
 All Difficulties That Beset Him In His Progress; A Triumphant Teacher, 
 Leading At His Will Whoever Listened To His Words; A Father, Proudly 
 Contemplating The   Future Position Which He Destined For His Child.  Far 
 Different Did He Now Appear.  Lost To His Ambition, Broken In Spirit, 
 Helpless In Body, Separated From His Daughter By His Own Act, He Lay On 
 His Untended Couch In A Death-Like Lethargy.  The   Cold Wind Blowing 
 Through His Opened Window Awakened No Sensations In His Torpid Frame; 
 The Cup Of   Water And The   Small Relics Of   Coarse Food Stood Near His 
 Hand, But He Had No Vigilance To Discern Them.  His Open Eyes Looked 
 Steadfastly Upward, And Yet He Reposed As One In A Deep Sleep, Or As 
 One Already Devoted To The   Tomb; Save When, At Intervals, His Lips 
 Moved Slowly With A Long And Painfully Drawn Breath, Or A Fever Flush 
 Tinged His Hollow Cheek With Changing And Momentary Hues. 
   
   
   
 While Thus In Outward Aspect Appearing To Linger Between Life And 
 Death, His Faculties Yet Remained Feebly Vital Within Him.  Aroused By 
 No External Influence, And Governed By No Mental Restraint, They Now 
 Created Before Him A Strange Waking Vision, Palpable As An Actual Event. 
   
   
   
 It Seemed To Him That He Was Reposing, Not In His Own Chamber, But In 
 Some Mysterious World, Filled With A Twilight Atmosphere, Inexpressibly 
 Soothing And Gentle To His Aching Sight.  Through This Mild Radiance He 
 Could Trace, At Long Intervals, Shadowy Representations Of   The   Scenes 
 Through Which He Had Passed In Search Of   His Lost Child.  The   Gloomy 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 78 
 Streets, The   Lonely Houses Abandoned To The   Unburied Dead, Which He Had 
 Explored, Alternately Appeared And Vanished Before Him In Solemn 
 Succession; And Ever And Anon, As One Vision Disappeared Ere Another 
 Rose, He Heard Afar Off A Sound As Of   Gentle, Womanly Voices, Murmuring 
 In Solemn Accents, 'The Search Has Been Made In Penitence, In Patience, 
 In Prayer, And Has Not Been Pursued In Vain.  The   Lost Shall 
 Return--The Beloved Shall Yet Be Restored!' 
   
   
   
 Thus, As It Had Begun, The   Vision Long Continued.  Now The   Scenes 
 Through Which He Had Wandered Passed Slowly Before His Eyes, Now The 
 Soft Voices Murmured Pityingly In His Ear.  At Length The   First 
 Disappeared, And The   Last Became Silent; Then Ensued A Long Vacant 
 Interval, And Then The   Grey, Tranquil Light Brightened Slowly At One 
 Spot, Out Of   Which He Beheld Advancing Towards Him The   Form Of   His Lost 
 Child. 
   
   
   
 She Came To His Side, She Bent Lovingly Over Him; He Saw Her Eyes, With 
 Their Old Patient, Childlike Expression, Looking Sorrowfully Down Upon 
 Him.  His Heart Revived To A Sense Of   Unspeakable Awe And Contrition, 
 To Emotions Of   Yearning Love And Mournful Hope; His Speech Returned; He 
 Whispered Tremulously, 'Child! Child! I Repented In Bitter Woe The 
 Wrong That I Did To Thee; I Sought Thee, In My Loneliness On Earth, 
 Through The   Long Day And The   Gloomy Night!  And Now The   Merciful God 
 Has Sent Thee To Pardon Me!  I Loved Thee; I Wept For Thee.' 
   
   
   
   
 His Voice Died Within Him, For Now His Outward Sensations Quickened. 
 He Felt Warm Tears Falling On His Cheeks; He Felt Embracing Arms 
 Clasped Round Him; He Heard Tenderly Repeated, 'Father! Speak To Me As 
 You Were Wont; Love Me, Father, And Forgive Me, As You Loved And 
 Forgave Me When I Was A Little Child!' 
   
   
   
 The Sound Of   That Well-Remembered Voice--Which Had Ever Spoken Kindly 
 And Reverently To Him;  Which Had Last Addressed Him In Tones Of 
 Despairing Supplication; Which He Had Hardly Hoped To Hear Again On 
 Earth--Penetrated His Whole Being, Like Awakening Music In The   Dead 
 Silence Of   Night.  His Eyes Lost Their Vacant Expression; He Raised 
 Himself Suddenly On The   Couch; He Saw That What Had Begun As A Vision 
 Had Ended As A Reality; That His Dream Had Proved The   Immediate 
 Fore-Runner Of   Its Own Fulfilment; That His Daughter In Her Bodily 
 Presence Was Indeed Restored; And His Head Drooped Forward, And He 
 Trembled And Wept Upon Her Bosom, In The   Overpowering Fulness Of   His 
 Gratitude And Delight. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 79 
   
   
 For Some Moments Antonina, Calming With The   Resolute Heroism Of 
 Affection Her Own Thronging Emotions Of   Awe And Affright, Endeavoured 
 To Soothe And Support Her Fast-Failing Parent.  Her Horror Almost 
 Overwhelmed Her, As She Thought That Now, When, Through Grief And 
 Peril, She Was At Last Restored To Him, He Might Expire In Her Arms; 
 But Even Yet Her Resolution Did Not Fail Her.  The   Last Hope Of   Her 
 Brief And Bitter Life Was Now The   Hope Of   Reviving Her Father, And She 
 Clung To It With The   Tenacity Of   Despair. 
   
   
   
 She Calmed Her Voice While She Spoke To Him; She Entreated Him To 
 Remember That His Daughter Had Returned To Watch Over Him, To Be His 
 Obedient Pupil As In Days Of   Old.  Vain Effort!  Even While The   Words 
 Passed Her Lips, His Arms, Which Had Been Pressed Over Her, Relaxed; 
 His Head Grew Heavier On Her Bosom.  In The   Despair Of   The   Moment, She 
 Tore Herself From Him, And Looked Round To Seek The   Help That None Were 
 Near To Afford.  The   Cup Of   Water, The   Last Provision Of   Food, 
 Attracted Her Eye. With Quick Instinct She Caught Them Up.  Hope, 
 Success, Salvation, Lay In Those Miserable Relics.  She Pressed The 
 Food Into His Mouth; She Moistened His Parched Lips, His Dry Brow, With 
 The Water.  During One Moment Of   Horrible Suspense She Saw Him Still 
 Insensible; Then The   Vital Functions Revived; His Eyes Opened Again And 
 Fixed Famine-Struck On The   Wretched Nourishment Before Him.  He 
 Devoured It Ravenously; He Drained The   Cup Of   Water To Its Last Drop; 
 He Sank Back Again On The   Couch. But Now The   Torpid Blood Moved Once 
 More In His Veins; His Heart Beat Less And Less Feebly:  He Was Saved. 
 She Saw It As She Bent Over Him--Saved By The   Lost Child In The   Hour Of 
 Her Return!  It Was A Sensation Of   Ecstatic Triumph And Gratitude Which 
 No Woeful Remembrances Had Power To Embitter In Its Bright, Sudden 
 Birth.  She Knelt Down By The   Side Of   The   Couch, Almost Crushed By Her 
 Own Emotions.  Over The   Grave Of   The   Young Warrior She Had Raised Her 
 Heart To Heaven In Agony And Grief, And Now By Her Father's Side She 
 Poured Forth Her Whole Soul To Her Creator In Trembling Ejaculations Of 
 Thankfulness And Hope. 
   
   
   
 Thus--The One Slowly Recovering Whatever Of   Life And Vigour Yet 
 Continued In His Weakened Frame, The   Other Still Filled With Her 
 All-Absorbing Emotions Of   Gratitude--The Father And Daughter Long 
 Remained. And Now, As Morning Waned Towards Noon, The   Storm Began To 
 Subside. Gradually And Solemnly The   Vast Thunder-Clouds Rolled Asunder, 
 And The   Bright Blue Heaven Beyond Appeared Through Their Fantastic 
 Rifts.  The   Lessening Rain-Drops Fell Light And Silvery To The   Earth, 
 And Breeze And Sunshine Were Wafted At Fitful Intervals Over The 
 Plague-Tainted Atmosphere Of   Rome.  As Yet, Subdued By The   Shadows Of 
 The Floating Clouds, The   Dawning Sunbeams Glittered Softly Through The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 80 
 Windows Of   Numerian's Chamber.  They Played, Warm And Reviving, Over 
 His Worn Features, Like Messengers Of   Resurrection And Hope From Their 
 Native Heaven.  Life Seemed To Expand Within Him Under Their Fresh And 
 Gentle Ministering.  Once More He Raised Himself, And Turned Towards 
 His Child; And Now His Heart Throbbed With A Healthful Joy, And His 
 Arms Closed Round Her, Not In The   Helplessness Of   Infirmity, But In The 
 Welcome Of   Love. 
   
   
   
 His Words, When He Spoke To Her, Fell At First Almost Inarticulately 
 From His Lips--They Were Mingled Together In Confused Phrases Of 
 Tenderness, Contrition, Thanksgiving.  All The   Native Enthusiasm Of   His 
 Disposition, All The   Latent Love For His Child, Which Had For Years 
 Been Suppressed By His Austerity, Or Diverted By His Ambition, Now At 
 Last Burst Forth. 
   
   
   
 Trembling And Silent In His Arms, Antonina Vainly Endeavoured To Return 
 His Caresses And To Answer His Words Of   Welcome.  Now For The   First 
 Time She Knew How Deep Was Her Father's Affection For Her; She Felt How 
 Foreign To His Real Nature Had Been His Assumed Severity In Their 
 Intercourse Of   Former Days; And In The   Quick Flow Of   New Feelings And 
 Old Recollections Produced By The   Delighting Surprise Of   The   Discovery, 
 She Found Herself Speechless.  She Could Only Listen Eagerly, 
 Breathlessly, While He Spoke.  His Words, Faltering And Confused Though 
 They Were, Were Words Of   Endearment Which She Had Never Heard From Him 
 Before; They Were Words Which No Mother Had Ever Pronounced Beside Her 
 Infant Bed, And They Sank Divinely Consoling Over Her Heart, As 
 Messages Of   Pardon From An Angel's Lips. 
   
   
   
 Gradually Numerian's Voice Grew Calmer.  He Raised His Daughter In His 
 Arms, And Bent Wistfully On Her Face His Attentive And Pitying Eyes. 
 'Returned, Returned!' He Murmured, While He Gazed On Her, 'Never Again 
 To Depart!  Returned, Beautiful And Patient, Kinder And More Tender 
 Than Ever!  Love Me And Pardon Me, Antonina.  I Sought For You In 
 Bitter Loneliness And Despair.  Think Not Of   Me As What I Was, But As 
 What I Am!  There Were Days When You Were An Infant, When I Had No 
 Thought But How To Cherish And Delight You, And Now Those Days Have 
 Come Again.  You Shall Read No Gloomy Task-Books; You Shall Never Be 
 Separated From Me More; You Shall Play Sweet Music On The   Lute; You 
 Shall Be All Garlanded With Flowers Which I Will Provide For You!  We 
 Will Find Friends And Glad Companions; We Will Bring Happiness With Us 
 Wherever We Are Seen. God's Blessing Goes Forth From Children Like 
 You--It Has Fallen Upon Me--It Has Raised Me From The   Dead!  My 
 Antonina Shall Teach Me To Worship, As I Once Taught Her.  She Shall 
 Pray For Me In The   Morning, And Pray For Me At Night; And When She 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 81 
 Thinks Not Of   It, When She Sleeps, I Shall Come Softly To Her Bedside, 
 And Wait And Watch Over Her, So That When She Opens Her Eyes They Shall 
 Open On Me--They Are The   Eyes Of   My Child Who Has Been Restored To 
 Me--There Is Nothing On Earth That Can Speak To Me Like Them Of 
 Happiness And Peace!' 
   
   
   
 He Paused For A Moment, And Looked Rapturously On Her Face As It Was 
 Turned Towards Him.  His Features Partially Saddened While He Gazed, 
 And Taking Her Long Hair, Still Wet And Dishevelled From The   Rain, In 
 His Hands, He Pressed It Over His Lips, Over His Face, Over His Neck. 
 Then, When He Saw That She Was Endeavouring To Speak, When He Beheld 
 The Tears That Were Now Filling Her Eyes, He Drew Her Closer To Him, 
 And Hurriedly Continued In Lower Tones-- 
   
   
   
 'Hush! Hush!  No More Grief, No More Tears!  Tell Me Not Whither You 
 Have Wandered--Speak Not Of   What You Have Suffered; For Would Not Every 
 Word Be A Reproach To Me?  And You Have Come To Pardon And Not To 
 Reproach!  Let Not The   Recollection That It Was I Who Cast You Off Be 
 Forced On Me From Your Lips; Let Us Remember Only That We Are Restored 
 To Each Other; Let Us Think That God Has Accepted My Penitence And 
 Forgiven Me My Sin, In Suffering My Child To Return!  Or, If We Must 
 Speak Of   The   Days Of   Separation That Are Past, Speak To Me Of   The   Days 
 That Found You Tranquil And Secure; Rejoice Me By Telling Me That It 
 Was Not All Danger And Woe In The   Bitter Destiny Which My Guilty Anger 
 Prepared For My Own Child!  Say To Me That You Met Protectors As Well 
 As Enemies In The   Hour Of   Your Flight--That All Were Not Harsh To You 
 As I Was--That Those Of   Whom You Asked Shelter And Safety Looked On 
 Your Face As On A Petition For Charity And Kindness From Friends Whom 
 They Loved! Tell Me Only Of   Your Protectors, Antonina, For In That 
 There Will Be Consolation; And You Have Come To Console!' 
   
   
   
 As He Waited For Her Reply He Felt Her Tremble On His Bosom, He Saw The 
 Shudder That Ran Over Her Frame.  The   Despair In Her Voice, Though She 
 Only Pronounced In Answer To Him The   Simple Words, 'There Was One'--And 
 Then Ceased, Unable To Proceed--Penetrated Coldly To His Heart. 
   
   
   
 'Is He Not At Hand?' He Hurriedly Resumed.  'Why Is He Not Here?  Let 
 Us Seek Him Without Delay.  I Must Humble Myself Before Him In My 
 Gratitude.  I Must Show Him That I Was Worthy That My Antonina Should 
 Be Restored.' 
   
   
   
   
 'He Is Dead!' She Gasped, Sinking Down In The   Arms That Embraced Her, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 82 
 As The   Recollections Of   The   Past Night Again Crowded In All Their 
 Horror On Her Memory.  'They Murdered Him By My Side.  O Father! 
 Father! He Loved Me; He Would Have Reverenced And Protected You!' 
   
   
   
 'May The   Merciful God Receive Him Among The   Blessed Angels, And Honour 
 Him Among The   Holy Martyrs!' Cried The   Father, Raising His Tearful Eyes 
 In Supplication.  'May His Spirit, If It Can Still Be Observant Of   The 
 Things Of   Earth, Know That His Name Shall Be Written On My Heart With 
 The Name Of   My Child; That I Will Think On Him As On A Beloved 
 Companion, And Mourn For Him As A Son That Has Been Taken From Me!' 
   
   
   
 He Ceased, And Looked Down On Antonina, Whose Features Were Still 
 Hidden From Him.  Each Felt That A New Bond Of   Mutual Affection Had 
 Been Created Between Them By What Each Had Spoken; But Both Now 
 Remained Silent. 
   
   
   
 During This Interval The   Thoughts Of   Numerian Wandered From The 
 Reflections Which Had Hitherto Occupied Him.  The   Few Mournful Words 
 Which His Daughter Had Spoken Had Been Sufficient To Banish Its Fulness 
 Of Joy From His Heart, And To Turn Him From The   Happy Contemplation Of 
 The Present To The   Dark Recollections Of   The   Past.  Vague Doubts And 
 Fears Now Mingled With His Gratitude And Hope, And Involuntarily His 
 Thoughts Reverted To What He Would Fain Have Forgotten For Ever--To The 
 Morning When He Had Driven Antonina From Her Home. 
   
   
   
 Baseless Apprehensions Of   The   Return Of   The   Treacherous Pagan And His 
 Profligate Employer, With The   Return Of   Their Victim--Despairing 
 Convictions Of   His Own Helplessness And Infirmity Rose Startlingly In 
 His Mind.  His Eyes Wandered Vacantly Round The   Room, His Hands Closed 
 Trembling Over His Daughter's Form; Then, Suddenly Releasing Her, He 
 Arose As One Panic-Stricken, And Exclaiming, 'The Doors Must Be 
 Secured--Ulpius May Be Near--The Senator May Return!' Endeavoured To 
 Cross The   Room.  But His Strength Was Unequal To The   Effort; He Leaned 
 Back For Support Against The   Wall, And Breathlessly Repeating, 'Secure 
 The Doors--Ulpius, Ulpius!' He Motioned To Antonina To Descend. 
   
   
   
 She Trembled As She Obeyed Him.  Remembering Her Passage Through The 
 Breach In The   Wall, And Her Fearful Journey Through The   Streets Of 
 Rome, She More Than Shared Her Father's Apprehensions As She Descended 
 The Stairs. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 83 
   
 The Door Remained Half Open, As She Had Left It When She Entered The 
 House.  Ere She Hurriedly Closed And Barred It, She Cast A Momentary 
 Glance On The   Street Beyond.  The   Gaunt Figures Of   The   Slaves Still 
 Moved Wearily To And Fro, Amid The   Mockery Of   Festal Preparation In 
 Vetranio's Palace; And Here And There A Few Ghastly Figures Lay On The 
 Ground Contemplating Them In Languid Amazement. Over All Other Parts Of 
 The Street The   Deadly Tranquillity Of   Plague And Famine Still Prevailed. 
   
   
   
 Hurriedly Ascending The   Steps, Antonina Hastened To Assure Her Father 
 That She Had Obeyed His Commands, And That They Were Now Secure From 
 All Intrusion From Without.  But, During Her Brief Absence, A New And 
 More Ominous Prospect Of   Calamity Had Presented Itself Before The   Old 
 Man's Mind. 
   
   
   
 As She Entered The   Room, She Saw That He Had Returned To His Couch, And 
 That He Was Holding Before Him The   Little Wooden Bowl Which Had 
 Contained His Last Supply Of   Food, And Which Was Now Empty. He 
 Addressed Not A Word To Her When He Heard Her Enter; His Features Were 
 Rigid With Horror And Despair As He Looked Down On The   Empty Bowl; He 
 Muttered Vacantly, 'It Was The   Last Provision That Remained, And It Was 
 I That Exhausted It!  The   Beasts Of   The   Forest Carry Food To Their 
 Young, And I Have Taken The   Last Morsel From My Child!' 
   
   
   
   
 In An Instant The   Utter Desolateness Of   Their Situation--Forgotten In 
 The First Joy Of   Their Meeting--Forced Itself With Appalling Vividness 
 Upon Antonina's Mind.  She Endeavoured To Speak Of   Comfort And Hope To 
 Her Father; But The   Fearful Realities Of   The   Famine In The   City Now 
 Rose Palpably Before Her, And Suspended The   Vain Words Of   Solace On Her 
 Lips. In The   Midst Of   Still Populous Rome, Within Sight Of   Those 
 Surrounding Plains Where The   Creative Sun Ripened Hour By Hour The 
 Vegetation Of   The   Teeming Earth, Where Field And Granary Displayed 
 Profusely Their Abundant Stores, The   Father And Daughter Now Looked On 
 Each Other, As Helpless To Replace Their Exhausted Provision Of   Food As 
 If They Had Been Abandoned On The   Raft Of   The   Shipwrecked In An 
 Unexplored Sea, Or Banished To A Lonely Island Whose Inland Products 
 Were Withered By Infected Winds, And Around Whose Arid Shores Ran Such 
 Destroying Waters As Seethe Over The   'Cities Of   The   Plain'. 
   
   
   
 The Silence Which Had Long Prevailed In The   Room, The   Bitter 
 Reflections Which Still Held The   Despairing Father And The   Patient 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 84 
 Daughter Speechless Alike, Were At Length Interrupted By A Hollow And 
 Melancholy Voice From The   Street, Pronouncing, In The   Form Of   A Public 
 Notice, These Words:-- 
   
   
   
 'I, Publius Dalmatius, Messenger Of   The   Roman Senate, Proclaim, That In 
 Order To Clear The   Streets From The   Dead, Three Thousand Sestertii Will 
 Be Given By The   Prefect For Every Ten Bodies That Are Cast Over The 
 Walls.  This Is The   True Decree Of   The   Senate.' 
   
   
   
 The Voice Ceased; But No Sound Of   Applause, No Murmur Of   Popular Tumult 
 Was Heard In Answer. Then, After An Interval, It Was Once More Faintly 
 Audible As The   Messenger Passed On And Repeated The   Decree In Another 
 Street; And Then The   Silence Again Sank Down Over All Things More 
 Awfully Pervading Than Before. 
   
   
   
 Every Word Of   The   Proclamation, When Repeated In The   Distance As When 
 Spoken Under His Window, Had Clearly Reached Numerian's Ears.  His 
 Mind, Already Sinking In Despair, Was Riveted On What He Had Heard From 
 The Woe-Boding Voice Of   The   Herald, With A Fascination As Absorbing As 
 That Which Rivets The   Eye Of   The   Traveller, Already Giddy On The   Summit 
 Of A Precipice, Upon The   Spectacle Of   The   Yawning Gulfs Beneath.  When 
 All Sound Of   The   Proclamation Had Finally Died Away, The   Unhappy Father 
 Dropped The   Empty Bowl Which He Had Hitherto Mechanically Continued To 
 Hold Before Him, And Glancing Affrightedly At His Daughter, Groaned To 
 Himself:  'The Corpses Are To Be Cast Over The   Walls--The Dead Are To 
 Be Flung Forth To The   Winds Of   Heaven--There Is No Help For Us In The 
 City. O God, God!--She May Die!--Her Body May Be Cast Away Like The 
 Rest, And I May Live To See It!' 
   
   
   
 He Rose Suddenly From The   Couch; His Reason Seemed For A Moment To Be 
 Shaken As He Tottered To The   Window, Crying, 'Food! Food!--I Will Give 
 My House And All It Contains For A Morsel Of   Food.  I Have Nothing To 
 Support My Own Child--She Will Starve Before Me By Tomorrow If I Have 
 No Food!  I Am A Citizen Of   Rome--I Demand Help From The   Senate!  Food! 
 Food!' 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 85 
   
 In Tones Declining Lower And Lower He Continued To Cry Thus From The 
 Window, But No Voice Answered Him Either In Sympathy Or Derision.  Of 
 All The   People--Now Increased In Numbers--Collected In The   Street 
 Before Vetranio's Palace, No One Turned Even To Look On Him.  For Days 
 And Days Past, Such Fruitless Appeals As His Had Been Heard, And Heard 
 Unconcernedly, At Every Hour And In Every Street Of   Rome--Now Ringing 
 Through The   Heavy Air In The   Shrieks Of   Delirium; Now Faintly Audible 
 In The   Last Faltering Murmurs Of   Exhaustion And Despair. 
   
   
   
 Thus Vainly Entreating Help And Pity From A Populace Who Had Ceased To 
 Give The   One Or To Feel The   Other, Numerian Might Long Have Remained; 
 But Now His Daughter Approached His Side, And Drawing Him Gently 
 Towards His Couch, Said In Tender And Solemn Accents:  'Remember, 
 Father, That God Sent The   Ravens To Feed Elijah, And Replenished The 
 Widow's Cruse! He Will Not Desert Us, For He Has Restored Us To Each 
 Other, And Has Sent Me Hither Not To Perish In The   Famine, But To Watch 
 Over You!' 
   
   
   
   
 'God Has Deserted The   City And All That It Contains!' He Answered 
 Distractedly.  'The Angel Of   Destruction Has Gone Forth Into Our 
 Streets, And Death Walks In His Shadow!  On This Day, When Hope And 
 Happiness Seemed Opening Before Us Both; Our Little Household Has Been 
 Doomed!  The   Young And The   Old, The   Weary And The   Watchful, They Strew 
 The Streets Alike--The Famine Has Mastered Them All--The Famine Will 
 Master Us--There Is No Help, No Escape!  I, Who Would Have Died 
 Patiently For My Daughter's Safety, Must Now Die Despairing, Leaving 
 Her Friendless In The   Wide, Dreary, Perilous World; In The   Dismal City 
 Of Anguish, Of   Horror, Of   Death--Where The   Enemy Threatens Without, And 
 Hunger And Pestilence Waste Within!  O Antonina! You Have Returned To 
 Me But For A Little Time; The   Day Of   Our Second Separation Draws Near!' 
   
   
   
 For A Few Moments His Head Drooped, And His Sobs Choked His Utterance; 
 Then He Once More Rose Painfully To His Feet.  Heedless Of   Antonina's 
 Entreaties, He Again Endeavoured To Cross The   Room, Only Again To Find 
 His Feeble Powers Unequal To Sustain Him.  As He Fell Back Panting Upon 
 A Seat, His Eyes Assumed A Wild, Unnatural Expression--Despair Of   Mind 
 And Weakness Of   Body Had Together Partially Unhinged His Faculties. 
 When His Daughter Affrightedly Approached To Soothe And Succour Him, He 
 Impatiently Waved Her Back; And Began To Speak In A Dull, Hoarse, 
 Monotonous Voice, Pressing His Hand Firmly Over His Brow, And Directing 
 His Eyes Backwards And Forwards Incessantly, On Object After Object, In 
 Every Part Of   The   Room. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 86 
   
 'Listen, Child, Listen!' He Hastily Began.  'I Tell You There Is No 
 Food In The   House, And No Food In Rome!--We Are Besieged--They Have 
 Taken From Us Our Granaries In The   Suburbs, And Our Fields On The 
 Plains--There Is A Great Famine In The   City--Those Who Still Eat, Eat 
 Strange Food Which Men Sicken At When It Is Named.  I Would Seek Even 
 This, But I Have No Strength To Go Forth Into The   Byways And Force It 
 From Others At The   Point Of   The   Sword!  I Am Old And Feeble, And 
 Heart-Broken--I Shall Die First, And Leave Fatherless My Good, Kind 
 Daughter, Whom I Sought For So Long, And Whom I Loved As My Only Child!' 
   
   
   
 He Paused For An Instant, Not To Listen To The   Words Of   Encouragement 
 And Hope Which Antonina Mechanically Addressed To Him While He Spoke, 
 But To Collect His Wandering Thoughts, To Rally His Failing Strength. 
 His Voice Acquired A Quicker Tone, And His Features Presented A Sudden 
 Energy And Earnestness Of   Expression, As If Some New Project Had 
 Flashed Across His Mind, When, After An Interval, He Continued Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 'But Though My Child Shall Be Bereaved Of   Me, Though I Shall Die In The 
 Hour When I Most Longed To Live For Her, I Must Not Leave Her Helpless; 
 I Will Send Her Among My Congregation Who Have Deserted Me, But Who 
 Will Repent When They Hear That I Am Dead, And Will Receive Antonina 
 Among Them For My Sake!  Listen To This--Listen, Listen!  You Must Tell 
 Them To Remember All That I Once Revealed To Them Of   My Brother, From 
 Whom I Parted In My Boyhood--My Brother, Whom I Have Never Seen Since. 
 He May Yet Be Alive, He May Be Found--They Must Search For Him; For To 
 You He Would Be Father To The   Fatherless, And Guardian To The 
 Unguarded--He May Now Be In Rome, He May Be Rich And Powerful--He May 
 Have Food To Spare, And Shelter That Is Good Against All Enemies And 
 Strangers!  Attend, Child, To My Words:  In These Latter Days I Have 
 Thought Of   Him Much; I Have Seen Him In Dreams As I Saw Him For The 
 Last Time In My Father's House; He Was Happier And More Beloved Than I 
 Was, And In Envy And Hatred I Quitted My Parents And Parted From Him. 
 You Have Heard Nothing Of   This; But You Must Hear It Now, That When I 
 Am Dead You May Know You Have A Protector To Seek!  So I Received In 
 Anger My Brother's Farewell, And Fled From My Home--(Those Days Were 
 Well Remembered By Me Once, But All Things Grow Dull On My Memory Now). 
 Long Years Of   Turmoil And Change Passed On, And I Never Met Him; And 
 Men Of   Many Nations Were My Companions, But He Was Not Among Them; Then 
 Much Affliction Fell Upon Me, And I Repented And Learnt The   Fear Of 
 God, And Went Back To My Father's House.  Since That, Years Have 
 Passed--I Know Not How Many.  I Could Have Told Them When I Spoke Of   My 
 Former Life To Him--To My Friend, When We Stood Near St. Peter's, Ere 
 The City Was Besieged, Looking On The   Sunset, And Speaking Of   The   Early 
 Days Of   Our Companionship; But Now My Very Remembrance Fails Me; The 
 Famine That Threatens Us With Separation And Death Casts Darkness Over 
 My Thoughts; Yet Hear Me, Hear Me Patiently--For Your Sake I Must 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 87 
 Continue!' 
   
   
   
 'Not Now, Father--Not Now!  At Another Time, On A Happier Day!' 
 Murmured Antonina, In Tremulous, Entreating Tones. 
   
   
   
   
 'My Home, When I Arrived To Look On It, Was Gone,' Pursued The   Old Man 
 Sadly, Neither Heeding Nor Hearing Her.  'Other Houses Were Built Where 
 My Father's House Had Stood; No Man Could Tell Me Of   My Parents And My 
 Brother; Then I Returned, And My Former Companions Grew Hateful In My 
 Eyes; I Left Them, And They Followed Me With Persecution And 
 Scorn.--Listen, Listen!--I Set Forth Secretly In The   Night, With You, 
 To Escape Them, And To Make Perfect My Reformation Where They Should 
 Not Be Near To Hinder It; And We Travelled Onward Many Days Until We 
 Came To Rome, And I Made My Abode There.  But I Feared That My 
 Companions Whom I Abhorred Might Discover And Persecute Me Again, And 
 In The   New City Of   My Dwelling I Called Myself By Another Name Than The 
 Name That I Bore; Thus I Knew That All Trace Of   Me Would Be Lost, And 
 That I Should Be Kept Secure From Men Whom I Thought On Only As Enemies 
 Now.  Go, Child! Go Quickly!--Bring Your Tablets And Write Down The 
 Names That I Shall Tell You; For So You Will Discover Your Protector 
 When I Am Gone!  Say Not To Him That You Are The   Child Of   Numerian--He 
 Knows Not The   Name; Say That You Are The   Daughter Of   Cleander, His 
 Brother, Who Died Longing To Be Restored To Him.  Write--Write 
 Carefully, Cleander!--That Was The   Name My Father Gave To Me; That Was 
 The Name I Bore Until I Fled From My Evil Companions And Changed It, 
 Dreading Their Pursuit!  Cleander! Write And Remember, Cleander!  I 
 Have Seen In Visions That My Brother Shall Be Discovered:  He Will Not 
 Be Discovered To Me, But He Will Be Discovered To You!  Your 
 Tablets--Your Tablets!--Write His Name With Mine--It Is--' 
   
   
   
 He Stopped Abruptly.  His Mental Powers, Fluctuating Between Torpor And 
 Animation--Shaken, But Not Overpowered By The   Trials Which Had Assailed 
 Them--Suddenly Rallied, And Resuming Somewhat Of   Their Accustomed 
 Balance, Became Awakened To A Sense Of   Their Own Aberration.  His Vague 
 Revelations Of   His Past Life (Which The   Reader Will Recognise As 
 Resembling His Communications On The   Same Subject To The   Fugitive 
 Land-Owner, Previously Related) Now Appeared Before Him In All Their 
 Incongruity And Uselessness.  His Countenance Fell--He Sighed Bitterly 
 To Himself:  'My Reason Begins To Desert Me!--My Judgment, Which Should 
 Guide My Child--My Resolution, Which Should Uphold Her, Both Fail Me! 
 How Should My Brother, Since Childhood Lost To Me, Be Found By Her? 
 Against The   Famine That Threatens Us I Offer But Vain Words!  Already 
 Her Strength Declines; Her Face, That I Loved To Look On Grows Wan 
 Before My Eyes!  God Have Mercy Upon Us!--God Have Mercy Upon Us!' 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 88 
   
 He Returned Feebly To His Couch; His Head Declined On His Bosom; 
 Sometimes A Low Groan Burst From His Lips, But He Spoke No More. 
   
   
   
 Deep As Was The   Prostration Under Which He Had Now Fallen, It Was Yet 
 Less Painful To Antonina To Behold It Than To Listen To The   Incoherent 
 Revelations Which Had Fallen From His Lips But The   Moment Before, And 
 Which, In Her Astonishment And Affright, She Had Dreaded Might Be The 
 Awful Indications Of   The   Overthrow Of   Her Father's Reason.  As She 
 Again Placed Herself By His Side, She Trembled To Feel That Her Own 
 Weariness Was Fast Overpowering Her; But She Still Struggled With Her 
 Rising Despair--Still Strove To Think Only Of   Capacity For Endurance 
 And Chances Of   Relief. 
   
   
   
 The Silence In The   Room Was Deep And Dismal While They Now Sat 
 Together. The   Faint Breezes, At Long Intervals, Drowsily Rose And Fell 
 As They Floated Through The   Open Window; The   Fitful Sunbeams 
 Alternately Appeared And Vanished As The   Clouds Rolled Upward In Airy 
 Succession Over The   Face Of   Heaven.  Time Moved Sternly In Its Destined 
 Progress, And Nature Varied Tranquilly Through Its Appointed Limits Of 
 Change, And Still No Hopes, No Saving Projects, Nothing But Dark 
 Recollections And Woeful Anticipations Occupied Antonina's Mind; When, 
 Just As Her Weary Head Was Drooping Towards The   Ground, Just As 
 Sensation And Fortitude And Grief Itself Seemed Declining Into A 
 Dreamless And Deadly Sleep, A Last Thought, Void Of   Discernible 
 Connection Or Cause, Rose Suddenly Within Her--Animating, Awakening, 
 Inspiring.  She Started Up.  'The Garden, Father--The Garden!' She 
 Cried Breathlessly.  'Remember The   Food That Grows In Our Garden Below! 
 Be Comforted, We Have Provision Left Yet--God Has Not Deserted Us!' 
   
   
   
 He Raised His Face While She Spoke; His Features Assumed A Deeper 
 Mournfulness And Hopelessness Of   Expression; He Looked Upon Her In 
 Ominous Silence, And Laid His Trembling Fingers On Her Arm To Detain 
 Her, When She Hurriedly Attempted To Quit The   Room. 
   
   
   
   
 'Do Not Forbid Me To Depart,' She Anxiously Pleaded.  'To Me Every 
 Corner In The   Garden Is Known; For It Was My Possession In Our Happier 
 Days--Our Last Hopes Rest In The   Garden, And I Must Search Through It 
 Without Delay!  Bear With Me,' She Added, In Low And Melancholy 
 Tones--'Bear With Me, Dear Father, In All That I Would Now Do!  I Have 
 Suffered, Since We Parted, A Bitter Affliction, Which Clings Dark And 
 Heavy To All My Thoughts--There Is No Consolation For Me But The 
 Privilege Of   Caring For Your Welfare--My Only Hope Of   Comfort Is In The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 89 
 Employment Of   Aiding You!' 
   
   
   
 The Old Man's Hand Had Pressed Heavier On Her Arm While She Addressed 
 Him; But When She Ceased It Dropped From Her, And He Bent His Head In 
 Speechless Submission To Her Entreaty. 
   
   
   
 For One Moment She Lingered, Looking On Him Silent As Himself; The 
 Next, She Left The   Apartment With Hasty And Uncertain Steps. 
   
   
   
 On Reaching The   Garden, She Unconsciously Took The   Path Leading To The 
 Bank Where She Had Once Loved To Play Secretly Upon Her Lute And To 
 Look On The   Distant Mountains Reposing In The   Warm Atmosphere Which 
 Summer Evenings Shed Over Their Blue Expanse.  How Eloquent Was This 
 Little Plot Of   Ground Of   The   Quiet Events Now For Ever Gone By!--Of The 
 Joys, The   Hopes, The   Happy Occupations, Which Rise With The   Day That 
 Chronicles Them, And Pass Like That Day, Never To Return The 
 Same!--Which The   Memory Alone Can Preserve As They Were, And The   Heart 
 Can Never Resume But In A Changed Form, Divested Of   The   Presence Of   The 
 Companion Of   The   Incident Of   The   Departed Moment, Which Formed The 
 Charm Of   The   Past And Makes The   Imperfection Of   The   Present. 
   
   
   
 Tender And Thronging Were The   Remembrances Which The   Surrounding 
 Prospect Called Up, As The   Sad Mistress Of   The   Garden Looked Again On 
 Her Little Domain!  She Saw The   Bank Where She Could Never More Sit To 
 Sing With A Renewal Of   The   Same Feelings Which Had Once Inspired Her 
 Music; She Saw The   Drooping Flowers That She Could Never Restore With 
 The Same Childlike Enjoyment Of   The   Task Which Had Animated Her In 
 Former Hours!  Young Though She Still Was, The   Emotions Of   The   Youthful 
 Days That Were Gone Could Never Be Revived As They Had Once Existed! 
 As Waters They Had Welled Up, And As Waters They Had Flowed Forth, 
 Never To Return To Their Source!  Thoughts Of   These Former Years--Of 
 The Young Warrior Who Lay Cold Beneath The   Heavy Earth--Of The 
 Desponding Father Who Mourned Hopeless In The   Room Above--Gathered 
 Thick At Her Heart As She Turned From Her Flower-Beds--Not, As In Other 
 Days, To Pour Forth Her Happiness To The   Music Of   Her Lute, But To 
 Search Laboriously For The   Sustenance Of   Life. 
   
   
   
 At First, As She Stooped Over Those Places In The   Garden Where She Knew 
 That Fruits And Vegetables Had Been Planted By Her Own Hand, Her Tears 
 Blinded Her.  She Hastily Dashed Them Away, And Looked Eagerly Around. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 90 
   
   
   
 Alas! Others Had Reaped The   Field From Which She Had Hoped Abundance! 
 In The   Early Days Of   The   Famine Numerian's Congregation Had Entered The 
 Garden, And Gathered For Him Whatever It Contained; Its Choicest And 
 Its Homeliest Products Were Alike Exhausted; Withered Leaves Lay On The 
 Barren Earth, And Naked Branches Waved Over Them In The   Air.  She 
 Wandered From Path To Path, Searching Amid The   Briars And Thistles, 
 Which Already Cast An Aspect Of   Ruin Over The   Deserted Place; She 
 Explored Its Most Hidden Corners With The   Painful Perseverance Of 
 Despair; But The   Same Barrenness Spread Around Her Wherever She Turned. 
 On This Once Fertile Spot, Which She Had Entered With Such Joyful Faith 
 In Its Resources, There Remained But A Few Poor Decayed Roots, Dropped 
 And Forgotten Amid Tangled Weeds And Faded Flowers. 
   
   
   
 She Saw That They Were Barely Sufficient For One Scanty Meal As She 
 Collected Them And Returned Slowly To The   House.  No Words Escaped Her, 
 No Tears Flowed Over Her Cheeks When She Reascended The   Steps--Hope, 
 Fear, Thought, Sensation Itself Had Been Stunned Within Her From The 
 First Moment When She Had Discovered That, In The   Garden As In The 
 House, The   Inexorable Famine Had Anticipated The   Last Chances Of   Relief. 
   
   
   
 She Entered The   Room, And, Still Holding The   Withered Roots, Advanced 
 Mechanically To Her Father's Side.  During Her Absence His Mental And 
 Bodily Faculties Had Both Yielded To Wearied Nature--He Lay In A Deep, 
 Heavy Sleep. 
   
   
   
   
 Her Mind Experienced A Faint Relief When She Saw That The   Fatal 
 Necessity Of   Confessing The   Futility Of   The   Hopes She Had Herself 
 Awakened Was Spared Her For A While.  She Knelt Down By Numerian, And 
 Gently Smoothed The   Hair Over His Brow; Then She Drew The   Curtain 
 Across The   Window, For She Feared Even That The   Breeze Blowing Through 
 It Might Arouse Him. 
   
   
   
 A Strange, Secret Satisfaction At The   Idea Of   Devoting To Her Father 
 Every Moment Of   The   Time And Every Particle Of   The   Strength That Might 
 Yet Be Reserved For Her; A Ready Resignation To Death In Dying For 
 Him--Overspread Her Heart, And Took The   Place Of   All Other Aspirations 
 And All Other Thoughts. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 91 
   
 She Now Moved To And Fro Through The   Room With A Cautious Tranquillity 
 Which Nothing Could Startle; She Prepared Her Decayed Roots For Food 
 With A Patient Attention Which Nothing Could Divert.  Lost, Through The 
 Aggravated Miseries Of   Her Position, To Recent Grief And Present 
 Apprehension, She Could Still Instinctively Perform The   Simple Offices 
 Of The   Woman And The   Daughter, As She Might Have Performed Them Amid A 
 Peaceful Nation And A Prosperous Home.  Thus Do The   First-Born 
 Affections Outlast The   Exhaustion Of   All The   Stormy Emotions, All The 
 Aspiring Thoughts Of   After Years, Which May Occupy, But Which Cannot 
 Absorb, The   Spirit Within Us; Thus Does Their Friendly And Familiar 
 Voice, When The   Clamour Of   Contending Passions Has Died Away In Its Own 
 Fury, Speak Again, Serene And Sustaining As In The   Early Time, When The 
 Mind Moved Secure Within The   Limits Of   Its Native Simplicity, And The 
 Heart Yet Lay Happy In The   Pure Tranquillity Of   Its First Repose! 
   
   
   
 The Last Scanty Measure Of   Food Was Soon Prepared; It Was Bitter And 
 Unpalatable When She Tasted It--Life Could Barely Be Preserved, Even In 
 The Most Vigorous, By Provision So Wretched; But She Set It Aside As 
 Carefully As If It Had Been The   Most Precious Luxury Of   The   Most 
 Abundant Feast. 
   
   
   
 Nothing Had Changed During The   Interval Of   Her Solitary Employment--Her 
 Father Yet Slept; The   Gloomy Silence Yet Prevailed In The   Street.  She 
 Placed Herself At The   Window, And Partially Drew Aside The   Curtain To 
 Let The   Warm Breezes From Without Blow Over Her Cold Brow.  The   Same 
 Ineffable Resignation, The   Same Unnatural Quietude, Which Had Sunk Down 
 Over Her Faculties Since She Had Entered The   Room, Overspread Them 
 Still.  Surrounding Objects Failed To Impress Her Attention; 
 Recollections And Forebodings Stagnated In Her Mind.  A Marble 
 Composure Prevailed Over Her Features.  Sometimes Her Eyes Wandered 
 Mechanically From The   Morsels Of   Food By Her Side To Her Sleeping 
 Father, As Her One Vacant Idea Of   Watching For His Service, Till The 
 Feeble Pulses Of   Life Had Throbbed Their Last, Alternately Revived And 
 Declined; But No Other Evidences Of   Bodily Existence Or Mental Activity 
 Appeared In Her.  As She Now Sat In The   Half-Darkened Room, By The 
 Couch On Which Her Father Reposed--Her Features Pale, Calm, And Rigid, 
 Her Form Enveloped In Cold White Drapery--There Were Moments When She 
 Looked Like One Of   The   Penitential Devotees Of   The   Primitive Church, 
 Appointed To Watch In The   House Of   Mourning, And Surprised In Her 
 Saintly Vigil By The   Advent Of   Death. 
   
   
   
 Time Flowed On--The Monotonous Hours Of   The   Day Waned Again Towards 
 Night; And Plague And Famine Told Their Lapse In The   Fated Highways Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 21 ( Father And Child  ) Pg 92 
 Rome.  For Father And Child The   Sand In The   Glass Was Fast Running Out, 
 And Neither Marked It As It Diminished.  The   Sleeper Still Reposed, And 
 The Guardian By His Side Still Watched; But Now Her Weary Gaze Was 
 Directed On The   Street, Unconsciously Attracted By The   Sound Of   Voices 
 Which At Length Rose From It At Intervals, And By The   Light Of   The 
 Torches And Lamps Which Appeared In The   Great Palace Of   The   Senator 
 Vetranio, As The   Sun Gradually Declined In The   Horizon, And The   Fiery 
 Clouds Around Were Quenched In The   Vapours Of   The   Advancing Night. 
 Steadily She Looked Upon The   Sight Beneath And Before Her; But Even Yet 
 Her Limbs Never Moved; No Expression Relieved The   Blank, Solemn 
 Peacefulness Of   Her Features. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile, The   Soft, Brief Twilight Glimmered Over The   Earth, And 
 Showed The   Cold Moon, Poised Solitary In The   Starless Heaven; Then, The 
 Stealthy Darkness Arose At Her Pale Signal, And Closed Slowly Round The 
 City Of   Death! 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 93 
   
 Of All Prophecies, None Are, Perhaps, So Frequently Erroneous As Those 
 On Which We Are Most Apt To Venture In Endeavouring To Foretell The 
 Effect Of   Outward Events On The   Characters Of   Men.  In No Form Of   Our 
 Anticipations Are We More Frequently Baffled Than In Such Attempts To 
 Estimate Beforehand The   Influence Of   Circumstance Over Conduct, Not 
 Only In Others, But Also Even In Ourselves.  Let The   Event But Happen, 
 And Men, Whom We View By The   Light Of   Our Previous Observation Of   Them, 
 Act Under It As The   Living Contradictions Of   Their Own Characters.  The 
 Friend Of   Our Daily Social Intercourse, In The   Progress Of   Life, And 
 The Favourite Hero Of   Our Historic Studies, In The   Progress Of   The 
 Page, Astonish, Exceed, Or Disappoint Our Expectations Alike.  We Find 
 It As Vain To Foresee A Cause As To Fix A Limit For The   Arbitrary 
 Inconsistencies In The   Dispositions Of   Mankind. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 94 
 But, Though To Speculate Upon The   Future Conduct Of   Others Under 
 Impending Circumstances Be But Too Often To Expose The   Fallacy Of   Our 
 Wisest Anticipations, To Contemplate The   Nature Of   That Conduct After 
 It Has Been Displayed Is A Useful Subject Of   Curiosity, And May Perhaps 
 Be Made A Fruitful Source Of   Instruction.  Similar Events Which Succeed 
 Each Other At Different Periods Are Relieved From Monotony, And Derive 
 New Importance From The   Ever-Varying Effects Which They Produce On The 
 Human Character.  Thus, In The   Great Occurrence Which Forms The 
 Foundation Of   Our Narrative, We May Find Little In The   Siege Of   Rome, 
 Looking At It As A Mere Event, To Distinguish It Remarkably From Any 
 Former Siege Of   The   City--The Same Desire For Glory And Vengeance, 
 Wealth And Dominion, Which Brought Alaric To Her Walls, Brought Other 
 Invaders Before Him.  But If We Observed The   Effect Of   The   Gothic 
 Descent Upon Italy On The   Inhabitants Of   Her Capital, We Shall Find 
 Ample Matter For Novel Contemplation And Unbounded Surprise. 
   
   
   
 We Shall Perceive, As An Astonishing Instance Of   The   Inconsistencies Of 
 The Human Character, The   Spectacle Of   A Whole People Resolutely Defying 
 An Overwhelming Foreign Invasion At Their Very Doors, Just At The 
 Period When They Had Fallen Most Irremediably From The   Highest Position 
 Of National Glory To The   Lowest Depths Of   National Degradation; 
 Resisting An All-Powerful Enemy With Inflexible Obstinacy, For The 
 Honour Of   The   Roman Name, Which They Had Basely Dishonoured Or 
 Carelessly Forgotten For Ages Past.  We Shall Behold Men Who Have 
 Hitherto Laughed At The   Very Name Of   Patriotism, Now Starving 
 Resolutely In Their Country's Cause; Who Stopped At No Villainy To 
 Obtain Wealth, Now Hesitating To Employ Their Ill-Gotten Gains In The 
 Purchase Of   The   Most Important Of   All Gratifications--Their Own 
 Security And Peace.  Instances Of   The   Unimaginable Effect Produced By 
 The Event Of   The   Siege Of   Rome On The   Characters Of   Her Inhabitants 
 Might Be Drawn From All Classes, From The   Lowest To The   Highest, From 
 Patrician To Plebeian; But To Produce Them Here Would Be To Admit Too 
 Long An Interruption In The   Progress Of   The   Present Narrative.  If We 
 Are To Enter At All Into Detail On Such A Subject, It Must Be Only In A 
 Case Clearly Connected With The   Actual Requirements Of   Our Story; And 
 Such A Case May Be Found, At This Juncture, In The   Conduct Of   The 
 Senator Vetranio, Under The   Influence Of   The   Worst Calamities Attending 
 The Blockade Of   Rome By The   Goths. 
   
   
   
 Who, It May Be Asked, Knowing The   Previous Character Of   This Man, His 
 Frivolity Of   Disposition, His Voluptuous Anxiety For Unremitting 
 Enjoyment And Ease, His Horror Of   The   Slightest Approaches Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 95 
 Affliction Or Pain, Would Have Imagined Him Capable Of   Rejecting In 
 Disdain All The   Minor Chances Of   Present Security And Future Prosperity 
 Which His Unbounded Power And Wealth Might Have Procured For Him, Even 
 In A Famine-Stricken City, And Rising Suddenly To The   Sublime Of 
 Criminal Desperation, In The   Resolution To Abandon Life As Worthless 
 The Moment It Had Ceased To Run In The   Easy Current Of   All Former 
 Years?  Yet To This Determination Had He Now Arrived; And, Still More 
 Extraordinary, In This Determination Had He Found Others, Of   His Own 
 Patrician Order, To Join Him. 
   
   
   
   
 The Reader Will Remember His Wild Announcement Of   His Intended Orgie To 
 The Prefect Pompeianus During The   Earlier Periods Of   The   Siege; That 
 Announcement Was Now To Be Fulfilled.  Vetranio Had Bidden His Guests 
 To The   Banquet Of   Famine.  A Chosen Number Of   The   Senators Of   The   Great 
 City Were To Vindicate Their Daring By Dying The   Revellers That They 
 Had Lived; By Resigning In Contempt All Prospect Of   Starving, Like The 
 Common Herd, On A Lessening Daily Pittance Of   Loathsome Food; By Making 
 Their Triumphant Exit From A Fettered And Ungrateful Life, Drowned In 
 Floods Of   Wine, And Lighted By The   Fires Of   The   Wealthiest Palace Of 
 Rome! 
   
   
   
 It Had Been Intended To Keep This Frantic Determination A Profound 
 Secret, To Let The   Mighty Catastrophe Burst Upon The   Remaining 
 Inhabitants Of   The   City Like A Prodigy From Heaven; But The   Slaves 
 Intrusted With The   Organisation Of   The   Suicide Banquet Had Been Bribed 
 To Their Tasks With Wine, And In The   Carelessness Of   Intoxication Had 
 Revealed To Others Whatever They Heard Within The   Palace Walls.  The 
 News Passed From Mouth To Mouth.  There Was Enough In The   Prospect Of 
 Beholding The   Burning Palace And The   Drunken Suicide Of   Its Desperate 
 Guests To Animate Even The   Stagnant Curiosity Of   A Famishing Mob. 
   
   
   
 On The   Appointed Evening The   People Dragged Their Weary Limbs From All 
 Quarters Of   The   City Towards The   Pincian Hill.  Many Of   Them Died On 
 The Way;  Many Lost Their Resolution To Proceed To The   End Of   Their 
 Journey, And Took Shelter Sullenly In The   Empty Houses On The   Road; 
 Many Found Opportunities For Plunder And Crime As They Proceeded, Which 
 Tempted Them From Their Destination; But Many Persevered In Their 
 Purpose--The Living Dragging The   Dying Along With Them, The   Desperate 
 Driving The   Cowardly Before Them In Malignant Sport, Until They Gained 
 The Palace Gates.  It Was By Their Voices, As They Reached Her Ear From 
 The Street, That The   Fast-Sinking Faculties Of   Antonina Had Been 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 96 
 Startled, Though Not Revived; And There, On The   Broad Pavement, Lay 
 These Citizens Of   A Fallen City--A Congregation Of   Pestilence And 
 Crime--A Starving And An Awful Band! 
   
   
   
 The Moon, Brightened By The   Increasing Darkness, Now Clearly 
 Illuminated The   Street, And Revealed, In A Narrow Space, A Various And 
 Impressive Scene. 
   
   
   
 One Side Of   The   Roadway In Which Stood Vetranio's Palace Was Occupied, 
 Along Each Extremity, As Far As The   Eye Could Reach At Night, By The 
 Groves And Outbuildings Attached To The   Senator's Mansion. The   Palace 
 Grounds, At The   Higher And Farther End Of   The   Street--Looking From The 
 Pincian Gate--Crossed It By A Wide Archway, And Then Stretched 
 Backward, Until They Joined The   Trees Of   The   Little Garden Of 
 Numerian's Abode. In A Line With This House, But Separated From It By A 
 Short Space, Stood A Long Row Of   Buildings, Let Out Floor By Floor To 
 Separate Occupants, And Towering To An Unwieldy Altitude; For In 
 Ancient Rome, As In Modern London, In Consequence Of   The   High Price Of 
 Land In An Over-Populated City, Builders Could Only Secure Space In A 
 Dwelling By Adding Inconveniently To Its Height.  Beyond These 
 Habitations Rose The   Trees Surrounding Another Patrician Abode; And 
 Beyond That The   Houses Took A Sudden Turn, And Nothing More Was Visible 
 In A Straight Line But The   Dusky, Indefinite Objects Of   The   Distant 
 View. 
   
   
   
   
 The Whole Appearance Of   The   Street Before Vetranio's Mansion, Had It 
 Been Unoccupied By The   Repulsive Groups Now Formed In It, Would Have 
 Been Eminently Beautiful At The   Hours Of   Which We Now Write.  The   Nobly 
 Symmetrical Frontage Of   The   Palace Itself, With Its Graceful Succession 
 Of Long Porticoes And Colossal Statues, Contrasted By The   Picturesquely 
 Irregular Appearance Of   The   Opposite Dwelling Of   Numerian And The   Lofty 
 Houses By Its Side; The   Soft, Indistinct Masses Of   Foliage Running 
 Parallel Along The   Upper Ends Of   The   Street, Terminated And Connected 
 By The   Archway Garden Across The   Road, On Which Was Planted A Group Of 
 Tall Pine-Trees, Rising In Gigantic Relief Against The   Transparent Sky; 
 The Brilliant Light Streaming Across The   Pavement From Vetranio's 
 Gaily-Curtained Windows, Immediately Opposed By The   Tranquil Moonlight 
 Which Lit The   More Distant View--Formed Altogether A Prospect In Which 
 The Natural And The   Artificial Were Mingled Together In The   Most 
 Exquisite Proportions--A Prospect Whose Ineffable Poetry And Beauty 
 Might, On Any Other Night, Have Charmed The   Most Careless Eye And 
 Exalted The   Most Frivolous Mind.  But Now, Overspread As It Was By 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 97 
 Groups Of   People Gaunt With Famine And Hideous With Disease; Startled 
 As It Was, At Gloomy Intervals, By Contending Cries Of   Supplication, 
 Defiance, And Despair--Its Brightest Beauties Of   Nature And Art 
 Appeared But To Shine With An Aspect Of   Bitter Mockery Around The   Human 
 Misery Which Their Splendour Disclosed. 
   
   
   
 Upwards Of   A Hundred People--Mostly Of   The   Lowest Orders--Were 
 Congregated Before The   Senator's Devoted Dwelling.  Some Few Among Them 
 Passed Slowly To And Fro In The   Street, Their Figures Gliding Shadowy 
 And Solemn Through The   Light Around Them; But The   Greater Number Lay On 
 The Pavement Before The   Wall Of   Numerian's Dwelling And The   Doorways Of 
 The Lofty Houses By Its Side.  Illuminated By The   Full Glare Of   The 
 Light From The   Palace Windows, These Groups, Huddled Together In The 
 Distorted Attitudes Of   Suffering And Despair, Assumed A Fearful And 
 Unearthly Appearance.  Their Shrivelled Faces, Their Tattered Clothing, 
 Their Wan Forms, Here Prostrate, There Half-Raised, Were Bathed In A 
 Steady Red Glow.  High Above Them, At The   Windows Of   The   Tall Houses, 
 Now Tenanted In Every Floor By The   Dead, Appeared A Few Figures (The 
 Mercenary Guardians Of   The   Dying Within)  Bending Forward To Look Out 
 Upon The   Palace Opposite--Their Haggard Faces Showing Pale In The   Clear 
 Moonlight.  Sometimes Their Voices Were Heard Calling In Mockery To The 
 Mass Of   People Below To Break Down The   Strong Steel Gates Of   The 
 Palace, And Tear The   Full Wine-Cup From Its Master's Lips. Sometimes 
 Those Beneath Replied With Execrations, Which Rose Wildly Mingled With 
 The Wailing Of   Women And Children, The   Moans Of   The   Plague-Stricken, 
 And The   Supplications Of   The   Famished To The   Slaves Passing Backwards 
 And Forwards Behind The   Palace Railings For Charity And Help. 
   
   
   
 In The   Intervals, When The   Tumult Of   Weak Voices Was Partially Lulled, 
 There Was Heard A Dull, Regular, Beating Sound, Produced By Those Who 
 Had Found Dry Bones On Their Road To The   Palace, And Were Pounding Them 
 On The   Pavement, In Sheltered Places, For Food.  The   Wind, Which Had 
 Been Refreshing During The   Day, Had Changed At Sunset, And Now Swept Up 
 Slowly Over The   Street In Hot, Faint Gusts, Plague-Laden, From The 
 East. Particles Of   The   Ragged Clothing On Some Prostrate Forms Lying 
 Most Exposed In Its Course Waved Slowly To And Fro, As It Passed, Like 
 Banners Planted By Death On The   Yielding Defences Of   The   Citadel Of 
 Life.  It Wound Through The   Open Windows Of   The   Palace, Hot And 
 Mephitic, As If Tainted With The   Breath Of   The   Foul And Furious Words 
 Which It Bore Onward Into The   Banqueting-Hall Of   The   Senator's Reckless 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 98 
 Guests.  Driven Over Such Scenes As Now Spread Beneath It, It Derived 
 From Them A Portentous Significance; It Seemed To Blow Like An 
 Atmosphere Exuded From The   Furnace-Depths Of   Centre Earth, Breathing 
 Sinister Warnings Of   Some Deadly Convulsion In The   Whole Fabric Of 
 Nature Over The   Thronged And Dismal Street. 
   
   
   
 Such Was The   Prospect Before The   Palace, And Such The   Spectators 
 Assembled In Ferocious Anxiety To Behold The   Destruction Of   The 
 Senator's Abode.  Meanwhile, Within The   Walls Of   The   Building, The 
 Beginning Of   The   Fatal Orgie Was At Hand. 
   
   
   
 It Had Been Covenanted By The   Slaves (Who, During The   Calamities In The 
 Besieged City, Had Relaxed In Their Accustomed Implicit Obedience To 
 Their Master With Perfect Impunity), That, As Soon As The   Last Labours 
 Of Preparation Were Completed, They Should Be Free To Consult Their Own 
 Safety By Quitting The   Devoted Palace.  Already Some Of   The   Weakest And 
 Most Timid Of   Their Numbers Might Be Seen Passing Out Hastily Into The 
 Gardens By The   Back Gates, Like Engineers Who Had Fired A Train, And 
 Were Escaping Ere The   Explosion Burst Forth.  Those Among The   Menials 
 Who Still Remained In The   Palace Were For The   Greater Part Occupied In 
 Drinking From The   Vases Of   Wine Which Had Been Placed Before Them, To 
 Preserve To The   Last Moment Their Failing Strength. 
   
   
   
   
 The Mockery Of   Festivity Had Been Extended Even To Their Dresses--Green 
 Liveries Girt With Cherry-Coloured Girdles Arrayed Their Wasted Forms. 
 They Drank In Utter Silence.  Not The   Slightest Appearance Of   Revelry 
 Or Intoxication Prevailed Among Their Ranks.  Confusedly Huddled 
 Together, As If For Mutual Protection, They Ever And Anon Cast Quick 
 Glances Of   Suspicion And Apprehension Upon Some Six Or Eight Of   The 
 Superior Attendants Of   The   Palace, Who Walked Backwards And Forwards At 
 The Outer Extremity Of   The   Hall Occupied By Their Comrades, And 
 Occasionally Advancing Along The   Straight Passages Before Them To The 
 Front Gates Of   The   Building, Appeared To Be Exchanging Furtive Signals 
 With Some Of   The   People In The   Street.  Reports Had Been Vaguely Spread 
 Of A Secret Conspiracy Between Some Of   The   Principal Of   The   Slaves And 
 Certain Chosen Ruffians Of   The   Populace, To Murder All The   Inmates Of 
 The Palace, Seize On Its Treasures, And, Opening The   City Gates To The 
 Goths, Escape With Their Booty During The   Confusion Of   The   Pillage Of 
 Rome.  Nothing Had As Yet Been Positively Discovered; But The   Few 
 Attendants Who Kept Ominously Apart From The   Rest Were Unanimously 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 99 
 Suspected By Their Fellows, Who Now Watched Them Over Their Wine-Cups 
 With Anxious Eyes.  Different As Was The   Scene Among The   Slaves Still 
 Left In The   Palace From The   Scene Among The   People Dispersed In The 
 Street, The   One Was Nevertheless In Its Own Degree As Gloomily 
 Suggestive Of   Some Great Impending Calamity As The   Other. 
   
   
   
 The Grand Banqueting-Hall Of   The   Palace, Prepared Though It Now Was For 
 Festivity, Wore A Changed And Melancholy Aspect. 
   
   
   
 The Massive Tables Still Ran Down The   Whole Length Of   The   Noble Room, 
 Surrounded By Luxurious Couches, As In Former Days, But Not A Vestige 
 Of Food Appeared Upon Their Glittering Surfaces.  Rich Vases, Flasks, 
 And Drinking-Cups, All Filled With Wine, Alone Occupied The   Festal 
 Board. Above, Hanging Low From The   Ceiling, Burnt Ten Large Lamps, 
 Corresponding To The   Number Of   Guests Assembled, As The   Only Procurable 
 Representatives Of   The   Hundreds Of   Revellers Who Had Feasted At 
 Vetranio's Expense During The   Brilliant Nights That Were Now Passed For 
 Ever.  At The   Lower End Of   The   Room, Beyond The   Grand Door Of   Entrance, 
 Hung A Thick Black Curtain, Apparently Intended To Conceal Mysteriously 
 Some Object Behind It.  Before The   Curtain Burnt A Small Lamp Of   Yellow 
 Glass, Raised Upon A High Gilt Pole, And Around And Beneath It, Heaped 
 Against The   Side Walls, And Over Part Of   The   Table, Lay A Various And 
 Confused Mass Of   Rich Objects, All Of   A Nature More Or Less 
 Inflammable, And All Besprinkled With Scented Oils.  Hundreds Of   Yards 
 Of Gorgeously Variegated Hangings, Rolls Upon Rolls Of   Manuscripts, 
 Gaudy Dresses Of   All Colours, Toys, Utensils, Innumerable Articles Of 
 Furniture Formed In Rare And Beautifully Inlaid Woods, Were Carelessly 
 Flung Together Against The   Walls Of   The   Apartment, And Rose High 
 Towards Its Ceiling. 
   
   
   
 On Every Part Of   The   Tables Not Occupied By The   Vases Of   Wine Were Laid 
 Gold And Jewelled Ornaments Which Dazzled The   Eye By Their Brilliancy; 
 While, In Extraordinary Contrast To The   Magnificence Thus Profusely 
 Displayed, There Appeared In One Of   The   Upper Corners Of   The   Hall An 
 Old Wooden Stand Covered By A Coarse Cloth, On Which Were Placed One Or 
 Two Common Earthenware Bowls, Containing What My Be Termed A 'Mash' Of 
 Boiled Bran And Salted Horseflesh.  Any Repulsive Odour Which Might 
 Have Arisen From This Strange Compound Was Overpowered By The   Various 
 Perfumes Sprinkled About The   Room, Which, Mingling With The   Hot Breezes 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 100 
 Wafted Through The   Windows From The   Street, Produced An Atmosphere As 
 Oppressive And Debilitating, In Spite Of   Its Artificial Allurements To 
 The Sense Of   Smell, As The   Air Of   A Dungeon Or The   Vapours Of   A Marsh. 
   
   
   
 Remarkable As Was The   Change In The   Present Appearance Of   The 
 Banqueting-Hall, It Was But The   Feeble Reflection Of   The   Alteration For 
 The Worse In The   Aspect Of   The   Host And His Guests.  Vetranio Reclined 
 At The   Head Of   The   Table, Dressed In A Scarlet Mantle.  An Embroidered 
 Towel With Purple Tassels And Fringes, Connected With Rings Of   Gold, 
 Fell Over His Breast, And Silver And Ivory Bracelets Were Clasped Round 
 His Arms.  But Of   The   Former Man The   Habiliments Were All That 
 Remained. His Head Was Bent Forward, As If With The   Weakness Of   Age; 
 His Emaciated Arms Seemed Barely Able To Support The   Weight Of   The 
 Ornaments Which Glittered On Them; His Eyes Had Contracted A Wild, 
 Unsettled Expression; And A Deadly Paleness Overspread The   Once Plump 
 And Jovial Cheeks Which So Many Mistresses Had Kissed In Mercenary 
 Rapture In Other Days.  Both In Countenance And Manner The   Elegant 
 Voluptuary Of   Our Former Acquaintance At The   Court Of   Ravenna Was 
 Entirely And Fatally Changed. Of   The   Other Eight Patricians Who Lay On 
 The Couches Around Their Altered Host--Some Wild And Reckless, Some 
 Gloomy And Imbecile--All Had Suffered In The   Ordeal Of   The   Siege, The 
 Famine, And The   Pestilence, Like Him. 
   
   
   
 Such Were The   Members Of   The   Assemblage, Represented From The   Ceiling 
 By Nine Of   The   Burning Lamps.  The   Tenth And Last Lamp Indicated The 
 Presence Of   One More Guest Who Reclined A Little Apart From The   Rest. 
   
   
   
   
 This Man Was Hump-Backed; His Gaunt, Bony Features Were Repulsively 
 Disproportioned To His Puny Frame, Which Looked Doubly Contemptible, 
 Enveloped As It Was In An Ample Tawdry Robe.  Sprung From The   Lowest 
 Ranks Of   The   Populace, He Had Gradually Forced Himself Into The   Favour 
 Of His Superiors By His Skill In Coarse Mimicry, And His Readiness In 
 Ministering To The   Worst Vices Of   All Who Would Employ Him.  Having 
 Lost The   Greater Part Of   His Patrons During The   Siege, Finding Himself 
 Abandoned To Starvation On All Sides, He Had Now, As A Last Resource, 
 Obtained Permission To Participate In The   Banquet Of   Famine, To Enliven 
 It By A Final Exhibition Of   His Buffoonery, And To Die With His 
 Masters, As He Had Lived With Them--The Slave, The   Parasite, And The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 101 
 Imitator Of   The   Lowest Of   Their Vices And The   Worst Of   Their Crimes. 
   
   
   
 At The   Commencement Of   The   Orgie, Little Was Audible Beyond The   Clash 
 Of The   Wine-Cups, The   Low Occasional Whispering Of   The   Revellers, And 
 The Confused Voices Of   The   People Without, Floating Through The   Window 
 From The   Street.  The   Desperate Compact Of   The   Guests, Now That Its 
 Execution Had Actually Begun, Awed Them At First In Spite Of 
 Themselves.  At Length, When There Was A Lull Of   All Sounds--When A 
 Temporary Calm Prevailed Over The   Noises Outside--When The   Wine-Cups 
 Were Emptied, And Left For A Moment Ere They Were Filled 
 Again--Vetranio Feebly Rose, And, Announcing With A Mocking Smile That 
 He Was About To Speak A Funeral Oration Over His Friends And Himself, 
 Pointed To The   Wall Immediately Behind Him As To An Object Fitted To 
 Awaken The   Astonishment Or The   Hilarity Of   His Moody Guests. 
   
   
   
 Against The   Upper Part Of   The   Wall Were Fixed Various Small Statues In 
 Bronze And Marble, All Representing The   Owner Of   The   Palace, And All 
 Hung With Golden Plates.  Beneath These Appeared The   Rent-Roll Of   His 
 Estates, Written In Various Colours On White Vellum, And Beneath That, 
 Scratched On The   Marble In Faint Irregular Characters, Was No Less An 
 Object Than His Own Epitaph, Composed By Himself.  It May Be Translated 
 Thus:-- 
   
   
   
      Stop, Spectator! 
      If Thou Has Reverently Cultivated The   Pleasures Of   The   Taste, 
      Pause Amid These Illustrious Ruins Of   What Was Once 
      A Palace, 
      And Peruse With Respect On This Stone 
      The   Epitaph Of   Vetranio, A Senator. 
      He Was The   First Man Who Invented A Successful 
      Nightingale Sauce; 
      His Bold And Creative Genius Added Much, 
      And Would Have Added More, To 
      The   Art Of   Cookery; 
      But, Alas For The   Interests Of   Science! 
      He Lived In The   Days When The   Gothic Barbarians Besieged 
      The   Imperial City; 
      Famine Left Him No Matter For Gustatory Experiment; 
      And Pestilence Deprived Him Of   Cooks To Enlighten! 
      Opposed At All Points By The   Force Of   Adverse Circumstances, 
      Finding His Life Of   No Further Use To The   Culinary 
      Interests Of   Rome, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 102 
      He Called His Chosen Friends Together To Assist Him, 
      Conscientiously Drank Up Every Drop Of   Wine Remaining 
      In His Cellars, 
      Lit The   Funeral Pile Of   Himself And His Guests, 
      In The   Banqueting-Hall Of   His Own Palace, 
      And Died, As He Had Lived, 
      The   Patriotic Cato 
      Of   His Country's Gastronomy! 
   
   
   
 'Behold!' Cried Vetranio, Pointing Triumphantly To The   Epitaph--'Behold 
 In Every Line Of   Those Eloquent Letters At Once The   Seal Of   My Resolute 
 Adherence To The   Engagement That Unites Us Here, And The   Foundation Of 
 My Just Claim To The   Reverence Of   Posterity On The   Most Useful Of   The 
 Arts Which I Exercised For The   Benefit Of   My Species!  Read, Friends, 
 Brethren, Fellow-Martyrs Of   Glory, And, As You Read, Rejoice With Me 
 Over The   Hour Of   Our Departure From The   Desecrated Arena, No Longer 
 Worthy The   Celebration Of   The   Games Of   Life!  Yet, Ere The   Feast 
 Proceeds, Hear Me While I Speak--I Make My Last Oration As The   Arbiter 
 Of Our Funeral Sports, As The   Host Of   The   Banquet Of   Famine! 
   
   
   
   
 'Who Would Sink Ignobly Beneath The   Slow Superiority Of   Starvation, Or 
 Perish Under The   Quickly Glancing Steel Of   The   Barbarian Conqueror's 
 Sword, When Such A Death As Ours Is Offered To The   Choice?--When Wine 
 Flows Bright, To Drown Sensation In Oblivion, And A Palace And Its 
 Treasures Furnish Alike The   Scene Of   The   Revel And The   Radiant Funeral 
 Pile?  The   Mighty Philosophers Of   India--The Inspired 
 Gymnosophists--Died As We Shall Die!  Calanus Before Alexander, Zamarus 
 In The   Presence Of   Augustus, Lit The   Fires That Consumed Them!  Let Us 
 Follow Their Glorious Example!  No Worms Will Prey Upon Our Bodies, No 
 Hired Mourners Will Howl Discordant At Our Funerals!  Purified In The 
 Radiance Of   Primeval Fire, We Shall Vanish Triumphant From Enemies And 
 Friends--A Marvel To The   Earth, A Vision Of   Glory To The   Gods 
 Themselves! 
   
   
   
 'Is It A Day More Or A Day Less Of   Life That Is Now Of   Importance To 
 Us? No; It Is Only Towards The   Easiest And The   Noblest Death That Our 
 Aspirations Can Turn!  Among Our Number There Is Now Not One Whom The 
 Care Of   Existence Can Further Occupy! 
   
   
   
 'Here, At My Right Hand, Reclines My Estimable Comrade Of   A Thousand 
 Former Feasts, Furius Balburius Placidus, Who, When We Sailed On The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 103 
 Lucrine Lake, Was Wont To Complain Of   Intolerable Hardship If A Fly 
 Settled On The   Gilded Folds Of   His Umbrella; Who Languished For A Land 
 Of Cimmerian Darkness If A Sunbeam Penetrated The   Silken Awnings Of   His 
 Garden-Terrace; And Who Now Wrangles For A Mouthful Of   Horseflesh With 
 The Meanest Of   His Slaves, And Would Exchange The   Richest Of   His 
 Country Villas For A Basket Of   Dirty Bread!  O Furius Balburius 
 Placidus, Of   What Further Use Is Life To Thee? 
   
   
   
 'There, At My Left, I Discern The   Changed Though Still Expressive 
 Countenance Of   The   Resolute Thascius, He Who Chastised A Slave With A 
 Hundred Lashes If His Warm Water Was Not Brought Immediately At His 
 Command; He Whose Serene Contempt For Every Member Of   The   Human Species 
 By Himself Once Ranked Him Among The   Greatest Of   Human Philosophers; 
 Even He Now Wanders Through His Palace Unserved, And Fawns Upon The 
 Plebeian Who Will Sell Him A Measure Of   Wretched Bran!  Oh, Admired 
 Friend, Oh, Rightly Reasoning Thascius, Say, Is There Anything In Rome 
 Which Should Delay Thee On Thy Journey To The   Elysian Fields? 
   
   
   
 'Farther Onward At The   Table, Drinking Largely While I Speak, I Behold, 
 O Marcus Moecius Moemmius, Thy Once Plump And Jovial Form!--Thou, In 
 Former Days Accustomed To Rejoice In The   Length Of   Thy Name, Because It 
 Enabled Thy Friends To Drink The   More In Drinking A Cup To Each Letter 
 Of It, Tell Me What Banqueting-Hall Is Now Open To Thee But This?--And 
 Thus Desolate In The   City Of   Thy Social Triumphs, What Should 
 Disincline Thee To Make Of   Our Festal Solemnity Thy Last Revel On Earth? 
   
   
   
 'Thou, Too, Facetious Hunchback, Prince Of   Parasites, Unscrupulous 
 Reburrus, Where, But At This Banquet Of   Famine, Will Thy Buffoonery Now 
 Procure For Thee A Draught Of   Reviving Wine?  Thy Masters Have 
 Abandoned Thee To Thy Native Dunghill!  No More Shalt Thou Wheedle For 
 Them When They Borrow, Or Bully For Them When They Pay!  No More 
 Charges Of   Poisoning Or Magic Shalt Thou Forge To Imprison Their 
 Troublesome Creditors!  Oh, Officious Sycophant, Thy Occupations Are No 
 More!  Drink While Thou Canst, And Then Resign Thy Carcass To Congenial 
 Mire! 
   
   
   
 'And You, My Five Remaining Friends, Whom--Little Desirous Of   Further 
 Delay--I Will Collectively Address, Think On The   Days When The 
 Suspicion Of   An Infectious Malady In Any One Of   Your Companions Was 
 Sufficient To Separate You From The   Dearest Of   Them; When The   Slaves 
 Who Came To You From Their Palaces Underwent Long Ceremonies Of 
 Ablution Before They Approached Your Presence; And Remembering This, 
 Reflect That Most, Perhaps All Of   Us, Now Meet Here Plague-Tainted 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 104 
 Already; And Then Say, Of   What Advantage Is It To Languish For A Life 
 Which Is Yours No Longer? 
   
   
   
 'No, My Friends, My Brethren Of   The   Banquet; Feeling That When Life Is 
 Worthless It Is Folly To Live, You Cannot Shrink From The   Lofty 
 Resolution By Which We Are Bound, You Cannot Pause On Our Joyful 
 Journey Of   Departure From The   Scenes Of   Earth--I Wrong You Even By A 
 Doubt!  Let Me Now, Rather, Ask Your Attention For A Worthier 
 Subject--The Enumeration Of   The   Festal Ceremonies By Which The   Progress 
 Of The   Banquet Will Be Marked.  That Task Concluded, That Last Ceremony 
 Of My Last Welcome To You These Halls Duly Performed, I Join You Once 
 More In Your Final Homage To The   Deity Of   Our Social Lives--The God Of 
 Wine! 
   
   
   
   
 'It Is Not Unknown To You--Learned As You Are In The   Jovial Antiquities 
 Of The   Table--That It Was, Among Some Of   The   Ancients, A Custom For A 
 Master-Spirit Of   Philosophy To Preside--The Teacher As Well As The 
 Guest--At Their Feasts.  This Usage It Has Been My Care To Revive, And, 
 As This Four Meeting Is Unparalleled In Its Heroic Design, So It Was My 
 Ambition To Bid To It One Unparalleled, Either As A Teacher Or A Guest. 
 Fired By An Original Idea, Unobserved Of   My Slaves, Aided Only By My 
 Singing-Boy, The   Faithful Glyco, I Have Succeeded In Placing Behind 
 That Black Curtain Such An Associate Of   Our Revels As You Have Never 
 Feasted With Before, Whose Appearance At The   Fitting Moment Must Strike 
 You Irresistibly With Astonishment, And Whose Discourse--Not Of   Human 
 Wisdom Only--Will Be Inspired By The   Midnight Secrets Of   The   Tomb.  By 
 My Side, On This Parchment, Lies The   Formulary Of   Questions To Be 
 Addressed By Reburrus, When The   Curtain Is Withdrawn, To The   Oracle Of 
 The Mysteries Of   Other Spheres. 
   
   
   
 'Before You, Behold In Those Vases All That Remains Of   My Once 
 Well-Stocked Cellars, And All That Is Provided For The   Palates Of   My 
 Guests! We Sit At The   Banquet Of   Famine, And No Coarser Sustenance Than 
 Inspiring Wine Finds Admittance At The   Bacchanalian Board.  Yet, Should 
 Any Among Us, In His Last Moments, Be Feeble Enough To Pollute His Lips 
 With Nourishment Alone Worthy Of   The   Vermin Of   The   Earth, Let Him Seek 
 The Wretched And Scanty Table, Type Of   The   Wretched And Scanty Food 
 That Covers It, Placed Yonder In Obscurity Behind Me.  There Will He 
 Find (In All Barely Sufficient For One Man's Poorest Meal) The   Last 
 Morsels Of   The   Vilest Nourishment Left In The   Palace.  For Me, My 
 Resolution Is Fixed--It Is Only The   Generous Wine-Cup That Shall Now 
 Approach My Lips! 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 105 
   
   
 'Above Me Are The   Ten Lamps, Answering To The   Number Of   My Friends Here 
 Assembled.  One After Another, As The   Wine Overpowers Us, Those Burning 
 Images Of   Life Will Be Extinguished In Succession By The   Guests Who 
 Remain Proof Against Our Draughts; And The   Last Of   These, Lighting This 
 Torch At The   Last Lamp, Will Consummate The   Banquet, And Celebrate Its 
 Glorious Close, By Firing The   Funeral Pile Of   My Treasures Heaped 
 Yonder Against My Palace Walls!  If My Powers Fail Me Before Yours, 
 Swear To Me That Whoever Among You Is Able To Lift The   Cup To His Lips 
 After It Has Dropped From The   Hands Of   The   Rest, Will Fire The   Pile! 
 Swear It By Your Lost Mistresses, Your Lost Friends, Your Lost 
 Treasures!--By Your Own Lives, Devoted To The   Pleasures Of   Wine And The 
 Purification Of   Fire!' 
   
   
   
 As, With Flashing Eyes And Flushed Countenance, Vetranio Sank Back On 
 His Couch, His Companions, Inflamed With The   Wine They Had Already 
 Drunk, Arose Cup In Hand, And Turned Towards Him.  Their Voices, 
 Discordantly Mingled, Pronounced The   Oath Together; Then, As They 
 Resumed Their Former Positions, Their Eyes All Turned Towards The   Black 
 Curtain In Ardent Expectation. 
   
   
   
 They Had Observed The   Sinister And Sarcastic Expression Of   Vetranio's 
 Eye As He Spoke Of   His Concealed Guest; They Knew That The   Hunchback 
 Reburrus Possessed, Among His Other Powers Of   Buffoonery, The   Art Of 
 Ventriloquism; And They Suspected The   Presence Of   Some Hideous Or 
 Grotesque Image Of   A Heathen God Or Demon In The   Hidden Recess, Which 
 The Jugglery Of   The   Parasite Was To Gift With The   Capacity Of   Speech. 
 Blasphemous Comments Upon Life, Death, And Immortality Were Eagerly 
 Awaited. The   General Impatience For The   Withdrawal Of   The   Curtain Was 
 Perceived By Vetranio, Who, Waving His Hand For Silence, 
 Authoritatively Exclaimed-- 
   
   
   
 'The Hour Has Not Yet Arrived.  More Draughts Must Be Drunk, More 
 Libations Poured Out, Ere The   Mystery Of   The   Curtain Is Revealed!  Ho, 
 Glyco!' He Continued, Turning Towards The   Singing-Boy, Who Had Silently 
 Entered The   Room, 'The Moment Is Yours!  Tune Your Lyre, And Recite My 
 Last Ode, Which I Have Addressed To You!  Let The   Charms Of   Poetry 
 Preside Over The   Feast Of   Death!' 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 106 
   
   
 The Boy Advanced, Trembling; His Once Ruddy Face Was Colourless And 
 Haggard; His Eyes Were Fixed With A Look Of   Rigid Terror On The   Black 
 Curtain; His Features Palpably Expressed The   Presence Within Him Of 
 Some Secret And Overwhelming Recollection Which Had Crushed All His 
 Other Faculties And Perceptions.  Steadily, Almost Guiltily, Averting 
 His Face From His Master's Countenance, He Stood By Vetranio's Couch, A 
 Frail And Fallen Being, A Mournful Spectacle Of   Perverted Docility And 
 Degraded Youth. 
   
   
   
 Still True, However, To The   Duties Of   His Vocation, He Ran His Thin, 
 Trembling Fingers Over The   Lyre, And Mechanically Preluded The 
 Commencement Of   The   Ode.  But During The   Silence Of   Attention Which Now 
 Prevailed, The   Confused Noises From The   People In The   Street Penetrated 
 More Distinctly Into The   Banqueting-Room; And At This Moment, High 
 Above Them All--Hoarse, Raving, Terrible, Rose The   Voice Of   One Man. 
   
   
   
 'Tell Me Not,' It Cried, 'Of Perfumes Wafted From The   Palace!--Foul 
 Vapours Flow From It!--See, They Sink, Suffocating Over Me!--They Bathe 
 Sky And Earth, And Men Who Move Around Us, In Fierce, Green Light!' 
   
   
   
 Then Other Voices Of   Men And Women, Shrill And Savage, Broke Forth In 
 Interruption Together:--'Peace, Davus! You Awake The   Dead About You!' 
 'Hide In The   Darkness; You Are Plague-Struck; Your Skin Is Shrivelled; 
 Your Gums Are Toothless!'  'When The   Palace Is Fired You Shall Be Flung 
 Into The   Flames To Purify Your Rotten Carcass!' 
   
   
   
 'Sing!' Cried Vetranio Furiously, Observing The   Shudders That Ran Over 
 The Boy's Frame And Held Him Speechless.  'Strike The   Lyre, As 
 Timotheus Struck It Before Alexander!  Drown In Melody The   Barking Of 
 The Curs Who Wait For Our Offal In The   Street!' 
   
   
   
 Feebly And Interruptedly The   Terrified Boy Began; The   Wild Continuous 
 Noises Of   The   Moaning Voices From Without Sounding Their Awful 
 Accompaniment To The   Infidel Philosophy Of   His Song As He Breathed It 
 Forth In Faint And Faltering Accents.  It Ran Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 To Glyco 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 107 
   
   
     Ah, Glyco! Why In Flow'rs Array'd? 
     Those Festive Wreaths Less Quickly Fade 
     Than Briefly-Blooming Joy! 
     Those High-Prized Friends Who Share Your Mirth 
     Are Counterfeits Of   Brittle Earth, 
     False Coin'd In Death's Alloy! 
   
   
   
     The   Bliss Your Notes Could Once Inspire, 
     When Lightly O'er The   God-Like Lyre 
     Your Nimble Fingers Pass'd, 
     Shall Spring The   Same From Others' Skill-- 
     When You're Forgot, The   Music Still 
     The   Player Shall Outlast! 
   
   
   
     The   Sun-Touch'd Cloud That Mounts The   Sky, 
     That Brightly Glows To Warm The   Eye, 
     Then Fades We Know Not Where, 
     Is Image Of   The   Little Breath 
     Of   Life--And Then, The   Doom Of   Death 
     That You And I Must Share! 
   
   
   
     Helpless To Make Or Mar Our Birth, 
     We Blindly Grope The   Ways Of   Earth, 
     And Live Our Paltry Hour; 
     Sure, That When Life Has Ceased To Please, 
     To Die At Will, In Stoic Ease, 
     Is Yielded To Our Pow'r! 
   
   
   
     Who, Timely Wise, Would Meanly Wait 
     The   Dull Delay Of   Tardy Fate, 
     When Life's Delights Are Shorn? 
     No!  When Its Outer Gloss Has Flown, 
     Let's Fling The   Tarnish'd Bauble Down 
     As Lightly As 'Twas Worn. 
   
   
   
 'A Health To Glyco!  A Deep Draught To A Singer From Heaven Come Down 
 Upon Earth!' Cried The   Guests, Seizing Their Wine-Cups, As The   Ode Was 
 Concluded, And Draining Them To The   Last Drop.  But Their Drunken 
 Applause Fell Noiseless Upon The   Ear To Which It Was Addressed.  The 
 Boy's Voice, As He Sang The   Final Stanza Of   The   Ode, Had Suddenly 
 Changed To A Shrill, Almost An Unearthly Tone, Then Suddenly Sank Again 
 As He Breathed Forth The   Last Few Notes; And Now As His Dissolute 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 108 
 Audience Turned Towards Him With Approving Glances, They Saw Him 
 Standing Before Them Cold, Rigid, And Voiceless.  The   Next Instant His 
 Fixed Features Were Suddenly Distorted, His Whole Frame Collapsed As If 
 Torn By An Internal Spasm--He Fell Back Heavily To The   Floor.  Those 
 Around Approached Him With Unsteady Feet, And Raised Him In Their Arms. 
 His Soul Had Burst The   Bonds Of   Vice In Which Others Had Entangled It; 
 The Voice Of   Death Had Whispered To The   Slave Of   The   Great Despot, 
 Crime--'Be Free!' 
   
   
   
 'We Have Heard The   Note Of   The   Swan Singing Its Own Funeral Hymn!' Said 
 The Patrician Placidus, Looking In Maudlin Pity From The   Corpse Of   The 
 Boy To The   Face Of   Vetranio, Which Presented For The   Moment An 
 Involuntary Expression Of   Grief And Remorse. 
   
   
   
   
 'Our Miracle Of   Beauty And Boy-God Of   Melody Has Departed Before Us To 
 The Elysian Fields!' Muttered The   Hunchback Reburrus, In Harsh, 
 Sarcastic Accents. 
   
   
   
 Then, During The   Short Silence That Ensued, The   Voices From The   Street, 
 Joined On This Occasion To A Noise Of   Approaching Footsteps On The 
 Pavement, Became Again Distinctly Audible In The   Banqueting-Hall. 
 'News! News!' Cried These Fresh Auxiliaries Of   The   Horde Already 
 Assembled Before The   Palace. 'Keep Together, You Who Still Care For 
 Your Lives!  Solitary Citizens Have Been Lured By Strange Men Into 
 Desolate Streets, And Never Seen Again!  Jars Of   Newly Salted Flesh, 
 Which There Were No Beasts Left In The   City To Supply, Have Been Found 
 In A Butcher's Shop!  Keep Together!  Keep Together!' 
   
   
   
 'No Cannibals Among The   Mob Shall Pollute The   Body Of   My Poor Boy!' 
 Cried Vetranio, Rousing Himself From His Short Lethargy Of   Grief.  'Ho! 
 Thascius! Marcus! You Who Can Yet Stand! Let Us Bear Him To The   Funeral 
 Pile!  He Has Died First--His Ashes Shall Be First Consumed!' 
   
   
   
 The Two Patricians Arose As The   Senator Spoke, And Aided Him In 
 Carrying The   Body To The   Lower End Of   The   Room, Where It Was Laid 
 Across The   Table, Beneath The   Black Curtain, And Between The   Heaps Of 
 Drapery And Furniture Piled Up Against Each Of   The   Walls.  Then, As His 
 Guests Reeled Back To Their Places, Vetranio, Remaining By The   Side Of 
 The Corpse, And Seizing In His Unsteady Hands A Small Vase Of   Wine, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 109 
 Exclaimed In Tones Of   Fierce Exultation:  'The Hour Has Come--The 
 Banquet Of   Famine Has Ended--The Banquet Of   Death Has Begun!  A Health 
 To The   Guest Behind The   Curtain!  Fill--Drink--Behold!' 
   
   
   
 He Drank Deeply From The   Vase As He Ceased, And Drew Aside The   Black 
 Drapery Above Him.  A Cry Of   Terror And Astonishment Burst From The 
 Intoxicated Guests As They Beheld In The   Recess Now Disclosed To View 
 The Corpse Of   An Aged Woman, Clothed In White, And Propped Up On A 
 High, Black Throne, With The   Face Turned Towards Them, And The   Arms 
 (Artificially Supported) Stretched Out As If In Denunciation Over The 
 Banqueting-Table.  The   Lamp Of   Yellow Glass, Which Burnt High Above The 
 Body, Threw Over It A Lurid And Flickering Light; The   Eyes Were Open, 
 The Jaw Had Fallen, The   Long Grey Tresses Drooped Heavily On Either 
 Side Of   The   White Hollow Cheeks. 
   
   
   
 'Behold!' Cried Vetranio, Pointing To The   Corpse--'Behold My Secret 
 Guest!  Who So Fit As The   Dead To Preside At The   Banquet Of   Death? 
 Compelling The   Aid Of   Glyco, Shrouded By Congenial Night, Seizing On 
 The First Corpse Exposed Before Me In The   Street, I Have Set Up There, 
 Unsuspected By All, The   Proper Idol Of   Our Worship, And Philosopher At 
 Our Feast!  Another Health To The   Queen Of   The   Fatal Revels--To The 
 Teacher Of   The   Mysteries Of   Worlds Unseen--Rescued From Rotting 
 Unburied, To Perish In The   Consecrated Flames With The   Senators Of 
 Rome! A Health!--A Health To The   Mighty Mother, Ere She Begin The 
 Mystic Revelations!  Fill--Drink!' 
   
   
   
 Fired By Their Host's Example, Recovered From Their Momentary Awe, 
 Already Inflamed By The   Mad Recklessness Of   Debauchery, The   Guests 
 Started From Their Couches, And With Bacchanalian Shouts Answered 
 Vetranio's Challenge.  The   Scene At This Moment Approached The 
 Supernatural.  The   Wild Disorder Of   The   Richly Laden Tables; The   Wine 
 Flowing Over The   Floor From Overthrown Vases; The   Great Lamps Burning 
 Bright And Steady Over The   Confusion Beneath; The   Fierce Gestures, The 
 Disordered Countenances Of   The   Revellers, As They Waved Their Jewelled 
 Cups Over Their Heads In Frantic Triumph; And Then The   Gloomy And 
 Terrific Prospect At The   Lower End Of   The   Hall--The Black Curtain, The 
 Light Burning Solitary On Its High Pole, The   Dead Boy Lying Across The 
 Festal Table, The   Living Master Standing By His Side, And, Like An Evil 
 Spirit, Pointing Upward In Mockery To The   White-Robed Corpse Of   The 
 Woman, As It Towered Above All In Its Unnatural Position, With Its 
 Skinny Arms Stretched Forth, With Its Ghastly Features Appearing To 
 Move As The   Faint And Flickering Light Played Over Them,--Produced 
 Together Such A Combination Of   Scarce-Earthly Objects As Might Be 
 Painted, But Cannot Be Described. It Was An Embodiment Of   A Sorcerer's 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 110 
 Vision--An Apocalypse Of   Sin Triumphing Over The   World's Last Relics Of 
 Mortality In The   Vaults Of   Death. 
   
   
   
   
 'To Your Task, Reburrus!' Cried Vetranio, When The   Tumult Was Lulled; 
 'To Your Questions Without Delay!  Behold The   Teacher With Whom You Are 
 To Hold Commune!  Peruse Carefully The   Parchment In Your Hand; 
 Question, And Question Loudly--You Speak To The   Apathetic Dead!' 
   
   
   
 For Some Time Before The   Disclosure Of   The   Corpse, The   Hunchback Had 
 Been Seated Apart At The   End Of   The   Banqueting-Hall Opposite The 
 Black-Curtained Recess, Conning Over The   Manuscript Containing The   List 
 Of Questions And Answers Which Formed The   Impious Dialogue He Was To 
 Hold, By The   Aid Of   His Powers Of   Ventriloquism, With The   Violated 
 Dead.  When The   Curtain Was Withdrawn He Had Looked Up For A Moment, 
 And Had Greeted The   Appearance Of   The   Sight Behind It With A Laugh Of 
 Brutal Derision, Returning Immediately To The   Study Of   His Blasphemous 
 Formulary Which Had Been Confided To His Care.  At The   Moment When 
 Vetranio's Commands Were Addressed To Him He Arose, Reeled Down The 
 Apartment Towards The   Corpse, And, Opening The   Dialogue As He 
 Approached It, Began In Loud Jeering Tones:  'Speak, Miserable Relict 
 Of Decrepit Mortality!' 
   
   
   
 He Paused As He Uttered The   Last Word, And Gaining A Point Of   View From 
 Which The   Light Of   The   Lamp Fell Full Upon The   Solemn And Stony 
 Features Of   The   Corpse, Looked Up Defiantly At It.  In An Instant A 
 Frightful Change Passed Over Him, The   Manuscript Dropped From His Hand, 
 His Deformed Frame Shrank And Tottered, A Shrill Cry Of   Recognition 
 Burst From His Lips, More Like The   Yell Of   A Wild Beast Than The   Voice 
 Of A Man. 
   
   
   
 The Next Moment, When The   Guests Started Up To Question Or Deride Him, 
 He Turned Slowly And Faced Them.  Desperate And Drunken As They Were, 
 His Look Awed Them Into Utter Silence.  His Face Was Deathlike In Hue, 
 As The   Face Of   The   Corpse Above Him--Thick Drops Of   Perspiration 
 Trickled Down It Like Rain--His Dry Glaring Eyes Wandered Fiercely Over 
 The Startled Countenances Before Him, And, As He Extended Towards Them 
 His Clenched Hands, He Muttered In A Deep Gasping Whisper:  'Who Has 
 Done This?  My Mother!  My Mother!' 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 111 
   
   
 As These Few Words--Of Awful Import Though Of   Simple Form--Fell Upon 
 The Ears Of   Those Whom He Addressed, Such Of   Them As Were Not Already 
 Sunk In Insensibility Looked Round On Each Other Almost Sobered For The 
 Moment, And All Speechless Alike.  Not Even The   Clash Of   The   Wine-Cups 
 Was Now Heard At The   Banqueting-Table--Nothing Was Audible But The 
 Sound, Still Fitfully Rising And Falling, Of   The   Voices Of   Terror, 
 Ribaldry, And Anguish From The   Street; And The   Hoarse Convulsive 
 Accents Of   The   Hunchback, Still Uttering At Intervals His Fearful 
 Identification Of   The   Dead Body Above Him:  'My  Mother!  My Mother!' 
   
   
   
 At Length Vetranio, Who Was The   First To Recover Himself, Addressed The 
 Terrified And Degraded Wretch Before Him, In Tones Which, In Spite Of 
 Himself, Betrayed, As He Began, An Unwonted Tremulousness And 
 Restraint. 'What, Reburrus!' He Cried, 'Are You Already Drunken To 
 Insanity, That You Call The   First Dead Body Which By Chance I 
 Encountered In The   Street, And By Chance Brought Hither, Your Mother? 
 Was It To Talk Of   Your Mother, Whom Dead Or Alive We Neither Know Nor 
 Care For, That You Were Admitted Here? Son Of   Obscurity And Inheritor 
 Of Rags, What Are Your Plebeian Parents To Us!' He Continued, Refilling 
 His Cup, And Lashing Himself Into Assumed Anger As He Spoke. 'To Your 
 Dialogue Without Delay, Or You Shall Be Flung From The   Windows To 
 Mingle With Your Rabble-Equals In The   Street!' 
   
   
   
   
 Neither By Word Nor Look Did The   Hunchback Answer The   Senator's 
 Menaces. For Him, The   Voice Of   The   Living Was Stifled In The   Presence 
 Of The   Dead.  The   Retribution That Had Gone Forth Against Him Had 
 Struck His Moral, As A Thunderbolt Might Have Stricken His Physical 
 Being.  His Soul Strove In Agony Within Him, As He Thought On The   Awful 
 Fatality Which Had Set The   Dead Mother In Judgment On The   Degraded 
 Son--Which Had Directed The   Hand Of   The   Senator Unwittingly To Select 
 The Corpse Of   The   Outraged Parent As The   Object For The   Infidel 
 Buffoonery Of   The   Reckless Child, At The   Very Close Of   His Impious 
 Career.  His Past Life Rose Before Him, For The   First Time, Like A Foul 
 Vision, Like A Nightmare Of   Horror, Impurity, And Crime.  He Staggered 
 Up The   Room, Groping His Way Along The   Wall, As If The   Darkness Of 
 Midnight Had Closed Round His Eyes, And Crouched Down By The   Open 
 Window.  Beneath Him Rose The   Evil And Ominous Voices From The   Street; 
 Around Him Spread The   Pitiless Array Of   His Masters; Before Him 
 Appeared The   Denouncing Vision Of   The   Corpse. 
   
   
   
 He Would Have Remained But A Short Time Unmolested In His Place Of 
 Refuge, But For An Event Which Now Diverted From Him The   Attention Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 112 
 Vetranio And His Guests.  Drinking Furiously To Drown All Recollection 
 Of The   Catastrophe They Had Just Witnessed, Three Of   The   Revellers Had 
 Already Suffered The   Worst Consequences Of   An Excess, Which Their 
 Weakened Frames Were Ill-Fitted To Bear.  One After Another, At Short 
 Intervals, They Fell Back Senseless On Their Couches; And One After 
 Another, As They Succumbed, The   Three Lamps Burning Nearest To Them 
 Were Extinguished.  The   Same Speedy Termination To The   Debauch Seemed 
 To Be In Reserve For The   Rest Of   Their Companions, With The   Exception 
 Of Vetranio And The   Two Patricians Who Reclined At His Right Hand And 
 His Left.  These Three Still Preserved The   Appearance Of 
 Self-Possession, But An Ominous Change Had Already Overspread Their 
 Countenances.  The   Expression Of   Wild Joviality, Of   Fierce 
 Recklessness, Had Departed From Their Wild Features; They Silently 
 Watched Each Other With Vigilant And Suspicious Eyes; Each In Turn, As 
 He Filled His Wine-Cup, Significantly Handled The   Torch With Which The 
 Last Drinker Was To Fire The   Funeral Pile.  As The   Numbers Of   Their 
 Rivals Decreased, And The   Flame Of   Lamp After Lamp Was Extinguished, 
 The Fatal Contest For A Suicide Supremacy Assumed A Present And 
 Powerful Interest, In Which All Other Purposes And Objects Were 
 Forgotten.  The   Corpse At The   Foot Of   The   Banqueting-Table, And The 
 Wretch Cowering In His Misery At The   Window, Were Now Alike Unheeded. 
 In The   Bewildered And Brutalised Minds Of   The   Guests, One Sensation 
 Alone Remained--The Intensity Of   Expectation Which Precedes The   Result 
 Of A Deadly Strife. 
   
   
   
 But Ere Long--Awakening The   Attention Which Might Otherwise Never Have 
 Been Aroused--The Voice Of   The   Hunchback Was Heard, As The   Spirit Of 
 Repentance Now Moved Within Him, Uttering, In Wild, Moaning Tones, A 
 Strange Confession Of   Degradation And Sin--Addressed To None; 
 Proceeding, Independent Of   Consciousness Or Will, From The   Depths Of 
 His Stricken Soul.  He Half Raised Himself, And Fixed His Sunken Eyes 
 Upon The   Dead Body, As These Words Dropped From His Lips:  'It Was The 
 Last Time That I Beheld Her Alive, When She Approached Me--Lonely, And 
 Feeble, And Poor--In The   Street, Beseeching Me To Return To Her In The 
 Days Of   Her Old Age And Her Solitude, And To Remember How She Had Loved 
 Me In My Childhood For My Very Deformity, How She Had Watched Me 
 Throughout The   Highways Of   Rome, That None Should Oppress Or Deride Me! 
 The Tears Ran Down Her Cheeks, She Knelt To Me On The   Hard Pavement, 
 And I, Who Had Deserted Her For Her Poverty, To Make Myself A Slave In 
 Palaces Among The   Accursed Rich, Flung Down Money To Her As To A Beggar 
 Who Wearied Me, And Passed On!  She Died Desolate; Her Body Lay 
 Unburied, And I Knew It Not!  The   Son Who Had Abandoned The   Mother 
 Never Saw Her More, Until She Rose Before Him There--Avenging, 
 Horrible, Lifeless--A Sight Of   Death Never To Leave Him!  Woe, Woe To 
 The Accursed In His Deformity, And The   Accursed Of   His Mother's Corpse!' 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 113 
   
 He Paused, And Fell Back Again To The   Ground, Grovelling And 
 Speechless. The   Tyrannic Thascius, Regarding Him With A Scowl Of 
 Drunken Wrath, Seized An Empty Vase, And Poising It In His Unsteady 
 Hand, Prepared To Hurl It At The   Hunchback's Prostrate Form, When Again 
 A Single Cry--A Woman's--Rising Above The   Increasing Uproar In The 
 Street, Rang Shrill And Startling Through The   Banqueting-Hall. The 
 Patrician Suspended His Purpose As He Heard It, Mechanically Listening 
 With The   Half-Stupid, Half-Cunning Attention Of   Intoxication.  'Help! 
 Help!' Shrieked The   Voice Beneath The   Palace Windows--'He Follows Me 
 Still--He Attacked My Dead Child In My Arms!  As I Flung Myself Down 
 Upon It On The   Ground, I Saw Him Watching His Opportunity To Drag It By 
 The Limbs From Under Me--Famine And Madness Were In His Eyes--I Drove 
 Him Back--I Fled--He Follows Me Still!--Save Us, Save Us!' 
   
   
   
   
 At This Instant Her Voice Was Suddenly Stifled In The   Sound Of   Fierce 
 Cries And Rushing Footsteps, Followed By An Appalling Noise Of   Heavy 
 Blows, Directed At Several Points, Against The   Steel Railings Before 
 The Palace Doors.  Between The   Blows, Which Fell Slowly And Together At 
 Regular Intervals, The   Infuriated Wretches, Whose Last Exertions Of 
 Strength Were Strained To The   Utmost To Deal Them, Could Be Heard 
 Shouting Breathlessly To Each Other:  'Strike Harder, Strike Harder! 
 The Back Gates Are Guarded Against Us By Our Comrades Admitted To The 
 Pillage Of   The   Palace Instead Of   Us.  You Who Would Share The   Booty, 
 Strike Firm! The   Stones Are At Your Feet, The   Gates Of   Entrance Yield 
 Before You.' 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile A Confused Sound Of   Trampling Footsteps And Contending Voices 
 Became Audible From The   Lower Apartments Of   The   Palace.  Doors Were 
 Violently Shut And Opened--Shouts And Execrations Echoed And Re-Echoed 
 Along The   Lofty Stone Passages Leading From The   Slaves' Waiting-Rooms 
 To The   Grand Staircase; Treachery Betrayed Itself As Openly Within The 
 Building As Violence Still Proclaimed Itself In The   Assault On The 
 Gates Outside.  The   Chief Slaves Had Not Been Suspected By Their 
 Fellows Without A Cause; The   Bands Of   Pillage And Murder Had Been 
 Organised In The   House Of   Debauchery And Death; The   Chosen Adherents 
 From The   Street Had Been Secretly Admitted Through The   Garden Gates, 
 And Had Barred And Guarded Them Against Further Intrusion--Another Doom 
 Than The   Doom They Had Impiously Prepared For Themselves Was 
 Approaching The   Devoted Senators, At The   Hands Of   The   Slaves Whom They 
 Had Oppressed, And The   Plebeians Whom They Had Despised. 
   
   
   
 At The   First Sound Of   The   Assault Without And The   First Intimation Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 114 
 The Treachery Within, Vetranio, Thascius, And Marcus Started From Their 
 Couches; The   Remainder Of   The   Guests, Incapable Either Of   Thought Or 
 Action, Lay, In Stupid Insensibility, Awaiting Their Fate.  These Three 
 Men Alone Comprehended The   Peril That Threatened Them, And, Maddened 
 With Drink, Defied, In Their Ferocious Desperation, The   Death That Was 
 In Store For Them.  'Hark! They Approach, The   Rabble Revolted From Our 
 Rule,' Cried Vetranio Scornfully, 'To Take The   Lives That We Despise 
 And The   Treasures That We Have Resigned!  The   Hour Has Come; I Go To 
 Fire The   Pile That Involves In One Common Destruction Our Assassins And 
 Ourselves!' 
   
   
   
 'Hold!' Exclaimed Thascius, Snatching The   Torch From His Hand; 'The 
 Entrance Must First Be Defended, Or, Ere The   Flames Are Kindled, The 
 Slaves Will Be Here!  Whatever Is Movable--Couches, Tables, 
 Corpses--Let Us Hurl Them All Against The   Door!' 
   
   
   
 As He Spoke He Rushed Towards The   Black-Curtained Recess, To Set The 
 Example To His Companions By Seizing The   Corpse Of   The   Woman; But He 
 Had Not Passed More Than Half The   Length Of   The   Apartment, When The 
 Hunchback, Who Had Followed Him Unheeded, Sprang Upon Him From Behind, 
 And, With A Shrill Cry, Fastening His Fingers On His Throat, Hurled Him 
 Torn And Senseless To The   Floor.  'Who Touches The   Body That Is Mine?' 
 Shrieked The   Deformed Wretch, Rising From His Victim, And Threatening 
 With His Blood-Stained Hands Vetranio And Marcus, As They Stood 
 Bewildered, And Uncertain For The   Moment Whether First To Avenge Their 
 Comrade Or To Barricade The   Door--'The Son Shall Rescue The   Mother!  I 
 Go To Bury Her!  Atonement!  Atonement!' 
   
   
   
 He Leaped Upon The   Table As He Spoke, Tore Asunder With Resistless 
 Strength The   Cords Which Fastened The   Corpse To The   Throne, Seized It 
 In His Arms, And The   Next Instant Gained The   Door.  Uttering Fierce, 
 Inarticulate Cries, Partly Of   Anguish And Partly Of   Defiance, He Threw 
 It Open, And Stepped Forward To Descend, When He Was Met At The   Head Of 
 The Stairs By The   Band Of   Assassins Hurrying Up, With Drawn Swords And 
 Blazing Torches, To Their Work Of   Pillage And Death.  He Stood Before 
 Them--His Deformed Limbs Set As Firmly On The   Ground As If He Were 
 Preparing To Descend The   Stairs At One Leap--With The   Corpse Raised 
 High On His Breast; Its Unearthly Features Were Turned Towards Them, 
 Its Bare Arms Were Still Stretched Forth As They Had Been Extended Over 
 The Banqueting-Table, Its Grey Hair Streamed Back And Mingled With His 
 Own: Under The   Fitful Illumination Of   The   Torches, Which Played Red And 
 Wild Over Him And His Fearful Burden, The   Dead And The   Living Looked 
 Joined To Each Other In One Monstrous Form. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 115 
   
   
 Huddled Together, Motionless, On The   Stairs, Their Shouts Of   Vengeance 
 And Fury Frozen On Their Lips, The   Assassins Stood For One Moment, 
 Staring Mechanically, With Fixed, Spell-Bound Eyes, Upon The   Hideous 
 Bulwark Opposing Their Advance On The   Victims Whom They Had Expected So 
 Easily To Surprise.  The   Next Instant A Superstitious Panic Seized 
 Them; As The   Hunchback Suddenly Moved Towards Them To Descend, The 
 Corpse Seemed To Their Terror-Stricken Eyes To Be On The   Eve Of 
 Bursting Its Way Through Their Ranks.  Ignorant Of   Its Introduction 
 Into The   Palace, Imagining It, In The   Revival Of   Their Slavish Fears, 
 To Be The   Spectral Offspring Of   The   Magic Incantations Of   The   Senators 
 Above, They Turned With One Accord And Fled Down The   Stairs.  The   Sound 
 Of Their Cries Of   Fear Grew Fainter And Fainter In The   Direction Of   The 
 Garden As They Hurried Through The   Secret Gates At The   Back Of   The 
 Building.  Then The   Heavy, Regular Tamp Of   The   Hunchback's Footsteps, 
 As He Paced The   Solitary Corridors After Them, Bearing His Burden Of 
 Death, Became Audible In Awful Distinctness; Then That Sound Also Died 
 Away And Was Lost, And Nothing More Was Heard In The   Banqueting-Room 
 Save The   Sharp Clang Of   The   Blows Still Dealt Against The   Steel 
 Railings From The   Street. 
   
   
   
 But Now These Grew Rare And More Rare In Their Recurrence; The   Strong 
 Metal Resisted Triumphantly The   Utmost Efforts Of   The   Exhausted Rabble 
 Who Assailed It.  As The   Minutes Moved On, The   Blows Grew Rapidly 
 Fainter And Fewer; Soon They Diminished To Three, Struck At Long 
 Intervals; Soon To One, Followed By Deep Execrations Of   Despair; And, 
 After That, A Great Silence Sank Down Over The   Palace And The   Street, 
 Where Such Strife And Confusion Had Startled The   Night-Echoes But A Few 
 Moments Before. 
   
   
   
 In The   Banqueting-Hall This Rapid Succession Of   Events--The Marvels Of 
 A Few Minutes--Passed Before Vetranio And Marcus As Visions Beheld By 
 Their Eyes, But Neither Contained Nor Comprehended By Their Minds. 
 Stolid In Their Obstinate Recklessness, Stupefied By The   Spectacle Of 
 The Startling Perils--Menacing Yet Harmless, Terrifying Though 
 Transitory--Which Surrounded Them, Neither Of   The   Senators Moved A 
 Muscle Or Uttered A Word, From The   Period When Thascius Had Fallen 
 Beneath The   Hunchback's Attack, To The   Period When The   Last Blow 
 Against The   Palace Railings, And The   Last Sound Of   Voices From The 
 Street, Had Ceased In Silence.  Then The   Wild Current Of   Drunken 
 Exultation, Suspended Within Them During This Brief Interval, Flowed 
 Once More, Doubly Fierce, In Its Old Course. Insensible, The   Moment 
 After They Had Passed Away, To The   Warning And Terrific Scenes They Had 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 116 
 Beheld, Each Now Looked Round On The   Other With A Glance Of   Triumphant 
 Levity. 'Hark!' Cried Vetranio, 'The Mob Without, Feeble And Cowardly 
 To The   Last, Abandon Their Puny Efforts To Force My Palace Gates! 
 Behold Our Banqueting-Tables Still Sacred From The   Intrusion Of   The 
 Revolted Menials, Driven Before My Guest From The   Dead, Like A Flock Of 
 Sheep Before A Single Dog!  Say, O Marcus! Did I Not Well To Set The 
 Corpse At The   Foot Of   Our Banqueting-Table?  What Marvels Has It Not 
 Effected, Borne Before Us By The   Frantic Reburrus, As A Banner Of   The 
 Hosts Of   Death, Against The   Cowardly Slaves Whose Fit Inheritance Is 
 Oppression, And Whose Sole Sensation Is Fear!  See, We Are Free To 
 Continue And Conclude The   Banquet As We Had Designed!  The   Gods 
 Themselves Have Interfered To Raise Us In Security Above Our 
 Fellow-Mortals, Whom We Despise!  Another Health, In Gratitude To Our 
 Departed Guest, The   Instrument Of   Our Deliverance, Under The   Auspices 
 Of Omnipotent Jove!' 
   
   
   
 As Vetranio Spoke, Marcus Alone, Out Of   All The   Revellers, Answered His 
 Challenge.  These Two--The Last-Remaining Combatants Of   The 
 Strife--Having Drained Their Cups To The   Health Proposed, Passed Slowly 
 Down Each Side Of   The   Room, Looking Contemptuously On Their Prostrate 
 Companions, And Extinguishing Every Lamp But The   Two Which Burnt Over 
 Their Own Couches.  Then Returning To The   Upper End Of   The   Tables, They 
 Resumed Their Places, Not To Leave Them Again Until The   Fatal Rivalry 
 Was Finally Decided, And The   Moment Of   Firing The   Pile Had Actually 
 Arrived. 
   
   
   
 The Torch Lay Between Them; The   Last Vases Of   Wine Stood At Their 
 Sides. Not A Word Escaped The   Lips Of   Either, To Break The   Deep 
 Stillness Prevailing Over The   Palace.  Each Fixed His Eyes On The 
 Other, In Stern And Searching Scrutiny, And Cup For Cup, Drank In Slow 
 And Regular Alternation.  The   Debauch, Which Had Hitherto Presented A 
 Spectacle Of   Brutal Degradation And Violence, Now That It Was 
 Restricted To Two Men Only--Each Equally Unimpressed By The   Scenes Of 
 Horror He Had Beheld, Each Vying With The   Other For The   Attainment Of 
 The Supreme Of   Depravity--Assumed An Appearance Of   Hardly Human 
 Iniquity; It Became A Contest For A Satanic Superiority Of   Sin. 
   
   
   
 For Some Time Little Alteration Appeared In The   Countenances Of   Either 
 Of The   Suicide-Rivals; But They Had Now Drunk To That Final Point Of 
 Excess At Which Wine Either Acts As Its Own Antidote, Or Overwhelms In 
 Fatal Suffocation The   Pulses Of   Life.  The   Crisis In The   Strife Was 
 Approaching For Both, And The   First To Experience It Was Marcus. 
 Vetranio, As He Watched Him, Observed A Dark Purple Flush Overspreading 
 His Face, Hitherto Pale, Almost Colourless.  His Eyes Suddenly Dilated; 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 117 
 He Panted For Breath.  The   Vase Of   Wine, When He Strove With A Last 
 Effort To Fill His Cup From It, Rolled From His Hand To The   Floor.  The 
 Stare Of   Death Was In His Face As He Half-Raised Himself And For One 
 Instant Looked Steadily On His Companion; The   Moment After, Without 
 Word Or Groan, He Dropped Backward Over His Couch. 
   
   
   
 The Contest Of   The   Night Was Decided!  The   Host Of   The   Banquet And The 
 Master Of   The   Palace Had Been Reserved To End The   One And To Fire The 
 Other! 
   
   
   
 A Smile Of   Malignant Triumph Parted Vetranio's Lips As He Now Arose And 
 Extinguished The   Last Lamp Burning Besides His Own.  That Done, He 
 Grasped The   Torch.  His Eyes, As He Raised It, Wandered Dreamily Over 
 The Array Of   His Treasures, And The   Forms Of   His Dead Or Insensible 
 Fellow-Patricians Around Him, To Be Consumed By His Act In Annihilating 
 Fire.  The   Sensation Of   His Solemn Night-Solitude In His Fated Palace 
 Began To Work In Vivid And Varying Impressions On His Mind, Which Was 
 Partially Recovering Some Portion Of   Its Wonted Acuteness, Under The 
 Bodily Reaction Now Produced In Him By The   Very Extravagance Of   The 
 Night's Excess.  His Memory Began To Retrace Confusedly The   Scenes With 
 Which The   Dwelling That He Was About To Destroy Had Been Connected At 
 Distant Or At Recent Periods.  At One Moment The   Pomp Of   Former 
 Banquets, The   Jovial Congregation Of   Guests Since Departed Or Dead, 
 Revived Before Him; At Another, He Seemed To Be Acting Over Again His 
 Secret Departure From His Dwelling On The   Night Before His Last Feast, 
 His Stealthy Return With The   Corpse That He Had Dragged From The 
 Street, His Toil In Setting It Up In Mockery Behind The   Black Curtain, 
 And Inventing The   Dialogue To Be Spoken Before It By The   Hunchback. 
 Now His Thoughts Reverted To The   Minutest Circumstances Of   The 
 Confusion And Dismay Among The   Members Of   His Household When The   First 
 Extremities Of   The   Famine Began To Be Felt In The   City; And Now, 
 Without Visible Connection Or Cause, They Turned Suddenly To The 
 Morning When He Had Hurried Through The   Most Solitary Paths In His 
 Grounds To Meet The   Betrayer Ulpius At Numerian's Garden Gate.  Once 
 More The   Image Of   Antonina--So Often Present To His Imagination Since 
 The Original Was Lost To His Eyes--Grew Palpable Before Him.  He 
 Thought Of   Her, As Listening At His Knees To The   Sound Of   His Lute; As 
 Awakening, Bewildered And Terrified, In His Arms; As Flying 
 Distractedly Before Her Father's Wrath; As Now Too Surely Lying Dead, 
 In Her Beauty And Her Innocence, Amid The   Thousand Victims Of   The 
 Famine And The   Plague. 
   
   
   
 These And Other Reflections, While They Crowded In Whirlwind Rapidity 
 On His Mind, Wrought No Alteration In The   Deadly Purpose Which They 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 118 
 Suspended.  His Delay In Lighting The   Torch Was The   Unconscious Delay 
 Of The   Suicide, Secure In His Resolution Ere He Lifts The   Poison To His 
 Lips--When Life Rises Before Him As A Thing That Is Past, And He Stands 
 For One Tremendous Moment In The   Dark Gap Between The   Present And The 
 Future--No More The   Pilgrim Of   Time--Not Yet The   Inheritor Of   Eternity! 
   
   
   
 So, In The   Dimly Lighted Hall, Surrounded By The   Victims Whom He Had 
 Hurried Before Him To Their Doom, Stood The   Lonely Master Of   The   Great 
 Palace; And So Spoke Within Him The   Mysterious Voices Of   His Last 
 Earthly Thoughts.  Gradually They Sank And Ceased, And Stillness And 
 Vacancy Closed Like Dark Veils Over His Mind.  Starting Like One 
 Awakened From A Trance He Once More Felt The   Torch In His Hand, And 
 Once More The   Expression Of   Fierce Desperation Appeared In His Eyes As 
 He Lit It Steadily At The   Lamp Above Him. 
   
   
   
 The Dew Was Falling Pure To The   Polluted Earth; The   Light Breezes Sang 
 Their Low Daybreak Anthem Among The   Leaves To The   Power That Bade Them 
 Forth; Night Had Expired, And Morning Was Already Born Of   It, As 
 Vetranio, With The   Burning Torch In His Hand, Advanced Towards The 
 Funeral Pile. 
   
   
   
   
 He Had Already Passed The   Greater Part Of   The   Length Of   The   Room, When 
 A Faint Sound Of   Footsteps Ascending A Private Staircase Which Led To 
 The Palace Gardens, And Communicated With The   Lower End Of   The 
 Banqueting-Hall By A Small Door Of   Inlaid Ivory, Suddenly Attracted His 
 Attention. He Hesitated In His Deadly Purpose, Listening To The   Slow, 
 Regular Approaching Sound, Which, Feeble Though It Was, Struck 
 Mysteriously Impressive Upon His Ear In The   Dreary Silence Of   All 
 Things Around Him. Holding The   Torch High Above His Head, As The 
 Footsteps Came Nearer, He Fixed His Eyes In Intense Expectation Upon 
 The Door.  It Opened, And The   Figure Of   A Young Girl Clothed In White 
 Stood Before Him.  One Moment He Looked Upon Her With Startled Eyes; 
 The Next The   Torch Dropped From His Hand, And Smouldered Unheeded On 
 The Marble Floor.  It Was Antonina! 
   
   
   
 Her Face Was Overspread With A Strange Transparent Paleness; Her Once 
 Soft, Round Cheeks Had Lost Their Girlish Beauty Of   Form; Her 
 Expression, Ineffably Mournful, Hopeless, And Subdued, Threw A Simple, 
 Spiritual Solemnity Over Her Whole Aspect.  She Was Changed, Awfully 
 Changed To The   Profligate Senator From The   Being Of   His Former 
 Admiration; But Still There Remained In Her Despairing Eyes Enough Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 119 
 The Old Look Of   Gentleness And Patience, Surviving Through All Anguish 
 And Dread, To Connect Her, Even As She Was Now, With What She Had Been. 
 She Stood In The   Chamber Of   Debauchery And Suicide Between The   Funeral 
 Pile And The   Desperate Man Who Was Vowed To Fire It, A Feeble, Helpless 
 Creature, Yet Powerful In The   Influence Of   Her Presence, At Such A 
 Moment And In Such A Form, As A Saving And Reproving Spirit, Armed With 
 The Omnipotence Of   Heaven To Mould The   Purposes Of   Man. 
   
   
   
 Awed And Astounded, As If He Beheld An Apparition From The   Tomb, 
 Vetranio Looked Upon This Young Girl--Whom He Had Loved With The   Least 
 Selfish Passion That Ever Inspired Him; Whom He Had Lamented As Long 
 Since Lost And Dead With The   Sincerest Grief He Had Ever Felt; Whom He 
 Now Saw Standing Before Him At The   Very Moment Ere He Doomed Himself To 
 Death, Altered, Desolate, Supplicating--With Emotions Which Held Him 
 Speechless In Wonder, And Even In Dread.  While He Still Gazed Upon Her 
 In Silence, He Heard Her Speaking To Him In Low, Melancholy, Imploring 
 Accents, Which Fell Upon His Ear, After The   Voices Of   Terror And 
 Desperation That Had Risen Around Him Throughout The   Night, Like Tones 
 Never Addressed To It Before. 
   
   
   
 'Numerian, My Father, Is Sinking Under The   Famine,' She Began; 'If No 
 Help Is Given To Him, He May Die Even Before Sunrise!  You Are Rich And 
 Powerful; I Have Come To You, Having Nothing Now But His Life To Live 
 For, To Beg Sustenance For Him!'  She Paused, Overpowered For The 
 Moment, And Bent Her Eyes Wistfully On The   Senator's Face.  Then Seeing 
 That He Vainly Endeavoured To Answer Her, Her Head Drooped Upon Her 
 Breast, And Her Voice Sank Lower As She Continued:-- 
   
   
   
 'I Have Striven For Patience Under Much Sorrow And Pain Through The 
 Long Night That Is Past; My Eyes Were Heavy And My Spirit Was Faint; I 
 Could Have Rendered Up My Soul Willingly In My Loneliness And 
 Feebleness To God Who Gave It, But That It Was My Duty To Struggle For 
 My Life And My Father's, Now That I Was Restored To Him After I Had 
 Lost All Beside!  I Could Not Think, Or Move, Or Weep, As, Looking 
 Forth Upon Your Palace, I Watched And Waited Through The   Hours Of 
 Darkness.  But, As Morning Dawned, The   Heaviness At My Heart Was 
 Lightened; I Remembered That The   Palace I Saw Before Me Was Yours; And, 
 Though The   Gates Were Closed, I Knew That I Could Reach It Through Your 
 Garden That Joins To My Father's Land.  I Had None In Rome To Ask Mercy 
 Of But You; So I Set Forth Hastily, Ere My Weakness Should Overpower 
 Me, Remembering That I Had Inherited Much Misery At Your Hands, But 
 Hoping That You Might Pity Me For What I Had Suffered When You Saw Me 
 Again.  I Came Wearily Through The   Garden; It Was Long Before I Found 
 My Way Hither; Will You Send Me Back As Helpless As I Came?  You First 
 Taught Me To Disobey My Father In Giving Me The   Lute; Will You Refuse 
 To Aid Me In Succouring Him Now?  He Is All That I Have Left In The 
 World!  Have Mercy Upon Him!--Have Mercy Upon Me!' 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 120 
   
 Again She Looked Up In Vetranio's Face.  His Trembling Lips Moved, But 
 Still No Sound Came From Them.  The   Expression Of   Confusion And Awe Yet 
 Prevailed Over His Features As He Pointed Slowly Towards The   Upper End 
 Of The   Banqueting-Table.  To Her This Simple Action Was Eloquent Beyond 
 All Power Of   Speech; She Turned Her Feeble Steps Instantly In The 
 Direction He Had Indicated. 
   
   
   
 He Watched Her, By The   Light Of   The   Single Lamp That Still Burnt, 
 Passing--Strong In The   Shielding Inspiration Of   Her Good Purpose--Amid 
 The Bodies Of   His Suicide Companions Without Pausing On Her Way. 
 Having Gained The   Upper End Of   The   Room, She Took From The   Table A 
 Flask Of   Wine, And From The   Wooden Stand Behind It The   Bowl Of   Offal 
 Disdained By The   Guests At The   Fatal Banquet, Returning Immediately To 
 The Spot Where Vetranio Still Stood.  Here She Stopped For A Moment, As 
 If About To Speak Once More; But Her Emotions Overpowered Her.  From 
 The Sources Which Despair And Suffering Had Dried Up, The   Long-Prisoned 
 Tears Once More Flowed Forth At The   Bidding Of   Gratitude And Hope. She 
 Looked Upon The   Senator, Silent As Himself, And Her Expression At That 
 Instant Was Destined To Remain On His Memory While Memory Survived. 
 Then, With Faltering And Hasty Steps, She Departed By The   Way She Had 
 Come; And In The   Great Palace, Which His Evil Supremacy Over The   Wills 
 Of Others Had Made A Hideous Charnel-House, He Was Once More Left Alone. 
   
   
   
 He Made No Effort To Follow Or Detain Her As She Left Him.  The   Torch 
 Still Smouldered Beside Him On The   Floor, But He Never Stooped To Take 
 It Up; He Dropped Down On A Vacant Couch, Stupefied By What He Had 
 Beheld.  That Which No Entreaties, No Threats, No Fierce Violence Of 
 Opposition Could Have Effected In Him, The   Appearance Of   Antonina Had 
 Produced--It Had Forced Him To Pause At The   Very Moment Of   The 
 Execution Of   His Deadly Design. 
   
   
   
 He Remembered How, From The   Very First Day When He Had Seen Her, She 
 Had Mysteriously Influenced The   Whole Progress Of   His Life; How His 
 Ardour To Possess Her Had Altered His Occupations, And Even Interrupted 
 His Amusements; How All His Energy And All His Wealth Had Been Baffled 
 In The   Attempt To Discover Her When She Fled From Her Father's House; 
 How The   First Feeling Of   Remorse That He Had Ever Known Had Been 
 Awakened Within Him By His Knowledge Of   The   Share He Had Had In 
 Producing Her Unhappy Fate.  Recalling All This; Reflecting That, Had 
 She Approached Him At An Earlier Period, She Would Have Been Driven 
 Back Affrighted By The   Drunken Clamour Of   His Companions; And Had She 
 Arrived At A Later, Would Have Found His Palace In Flames; Thinking At 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 22 ( The Banquet Of Famine  ) Pg 121 
 The Same Time Of   Her Sudden Presence In The   Banqueting-Hall When He Had 
 Believed Her To Be Dead, When Her Appearance At The   Moment Before He 
 Fired The   Pile Was Most Irresistible In Its Supernatural Influence Over 
 His Actions--That Vague Feeling Of   Superstitious Dread Which Exists 
 Intuitively In All Men's Minds, Which Had Never Before Been Aroused In 
 His, Thrilled Through Him.  His Eyes Were Fixed On The   Door By Which 
 She Had Departed, As If He Expected Her To Return.  Her Destiny Seemed 
 To Be Portentously Mingled With His Own; His Life Seemed To Move, His 
 Death To Wait At Her Bidding.  There Was No Repentance, No Moral 
 Purification In The   Emotions Which Now Suspended His Bodily Faculties 
 In Inaction; He Was Struck For The   Time With A Mental Paralysis. 
   
   
   
 The Restless Moments Moved Onward And Onward, And Still He Delayed The 
 Consummation Of   The   Ruin Which The   Night's Debauch Had Begun.  Slowly 
 The Tender Daylight Grew And Brightened In Its Beauty, Warmed The   Cold 
 Prostrate Bodies In The   Silent Hall, And Dimmed The   Faint Glow Of   The 
 Wasting Lamp; No Black Mist Of   Smoke, No Red Glare Of   Devouring Fire 
 Arose To Quench Its Fair Lustre; No Roar Of   Flames Interrupted The 
 Murmuring Morning Tranquillity Of   Nature, Or Startled From Their Heavy 
 Repose The   Exhausted Outcasts Stretched Upon The   Pavement Of   The 
 Street. Still The   Noble Palace Stood Unshaken On Its Firm Foundations; 
 Still The   Adornments Of   Its Porticoes And Its Statues Glittered As Of 
 Old In The   Rays Of   The   Rising Sun; And Still The   Hand Of   The   Master Who 
 Had Sworn To Destroy It, As He Had Sworn To Destroy Himself, Hung Idly 
 Near The   Torch Which Lay Already Extinguished In Harmless Ashes At His 
 Feet. 
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 122 
 We Return To The   Street Before The   Palace.  The   Calamities Of   The   Siege 
 Had Fallen Fiercely On Those Who Lay There During The   Night.  From The 
 Turbulent And Ferocious Mob Of   A Few Hours Since, Not Even The   Sound Of 
 A Voice Was Now Heard.  Some, Surprised In A Paroxysm Of   Hunger By 
 Exhaustion And Insensibility, Lay With Their Hands Half Forced Into 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 123 
 Their Mouths, As If In Their Ravenous Madness They Had Endeavoured To 
 Prey Upon Their Own Flesh.  Others Now And Then Wearily Opened Their 
 Languid Eyes Upon The   Street, No Longer Regardful, In The   Present 
 Extremity Of   Their Sufferings, Of   The   Building Whose Destruction They 
 Had Assembled To Behold, But Watching For A Fancied Realisation Of   The 
 Visions Of   Richly Spread Tables And Speedy Relief Called Up Before 
 Them, As If In Mockery, By The   Delirium Of   Starvation And Disease. 
   
   
   
 The Sun Had As Yet But Slightly Risen Above The   Horizon, When The 
 Attention Of   The   Few Among The   Populace Who Still Preserved Some 
 Perception Of   Outward Events Was Suddenly Attracted By The   Appearance 
 Of An Irregular Procession--Composed Partly Of   Citizens And Partly Of 
 Officers Of   The   Senate, And Headed By Two Men--Which Slowly Approached 
 From The   End Of   The   Street Leading Into The   Interior Of   The   City.  This 
 Assembly Of   Persons Stopped Opposite Vetranio's Palace; And Then Such 
 Members Of   The   Mob Who Watched Them As Were Not Yet Entirely Abandoned 
 By Hope, Heard The   Inspiring News That The   Procession They Beheld Was A 
 Procession Of   Peace, And That The   Two Men Who Headed It Were The 
 Spaniard, Basilius, A Governor Of   A Province, And Johannes, The   Chief 
 Of The   Imperial Notaries--Appointed Ambassadors To Conclude A Treaty 
 With The   Goths. 
   
   
   
 As This Intelligence Reached Them, Men Who Had Before Appeared 
 Incapable Of   The   Slightest Movement Now Rose Painfully, Yet Resolutely, 
 To Their Feet, And Crowded Round The   Two Ambassadors As Round Two 
 Angels Descended To Deliver Them From Bondage And Death.  Meanwhile, 
 Some Officers Of   The   Senate, Finding The   Front Gates Of   The   Palace 
 Closed Against Them, Proceeded To The   Garden Entrance At The   Back Of 
 The Building, To Obtain Admission To Its Owner.  The   Absence Of 
 Vetranio And His Friends From The   Deliberations Of   The   Government Had 
 Been Attributed To Their Disgust At The   Obstinate And Unavailing 
 Resistance Offered To The   Goths.  Now, Therefore, When Submission Had 
 Been Resolved Upon, It Had Been Thought Both Expedient And Easy To 
 Recall Them Peremptorily To Their Duties.  In Addition To This Motive 
 For Seeking The   Interior Of   The   Palace, The   Servants Of   The   Senate Had 
 Another Errand To Perform There.  The   Widely Rumoured Determination Of 
 Vetranio And His Associates To Destroy Themselves By Fire, In The 
 Frenzy Of   A Last Debauch--Disbelieved Or Disregarded While The   More 
 Imminent Perils Of   The   City Were Under Consideration--Became A Source 
 Of Some Apprehension And Anxiety To The   Acting Members Of   The   Roman 
 Council, Now That Their Minds Were Freed From Part Of   The 
 Responsibility Which Had Weighed On Them, By Their Resolution To Treat 
 For Peace. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 124 
   
 Accordingly, The   Persons Now Sent Into The   Palace Were Charged With The 
 Duty Of   Frustrating Its Destruction, If Such An Act Had Been Really 
 Contemplated, As Well As The   Duty Of   Recalling Its Inmates To Their 
 Appointed Places In The   Senate-House.  How Far They Were Enabled, At 
 The Time Of   Their Entrance Into The   Banqueting-Hall, To Accomplish 
 Their Double Mission, The   Reader Is Well Able To Calculate.  They Found 
 Vetranio Still In The   Place Which He Had Occupied Since Antonina Had 
 Quitted Him.  Startled By Their Approach From The   Stupor Which Had 
 Hitherto Weighed On His Faculties, The   Desperation Of   His Purpose 
 Returned; He Made An Effort To Tear From Its Place The   Lamp Which Still 
 Feebly Burned, And To Fire The   Pile In Defiance Of   All Opposition.  But 
 His Strength, Already Taxed To The   Utmost, Failed Him.  Uttering 
 Impotent Threats Of   Resistance And Revenge, He Fell, Swooning And 
 Helpless, Into The   Arms Of   The   Officers Of   The   Senate Who Held Him 
 Back. One Of   Them Was Immediately Dismissed, While His Companions 
 Remained In The   Palace, To Communicate With The   Leaders Of   The   Assembly 
 Outside. His Report Concluded, The   Two Ambassadors Moved Slowly Onward, 
 Separating Themselves From The   Procession Which Had Accompanied Them, 
 And Followed Only By A Few Chosen Attendants--A Mournful And A Degraded 
 Embassy, Sent Forth By The   People Who Had Once Imposed Their Dominion, 
 Their Customs, And Even Their Language, On The   Eastern And Western 
 Worlds, To Bargain With The   Barbarians Whom Their Fathers Had Enslaved 
 For The   Purchase Of   A Disgraceful Peace. 
   
   
   
   
 On The   Departure Of   The   Ambassadors, All The   Spectators Still Capable 
 Of The   Effort Repaired To The   Forum To Await Their Return, And Were 
 Joined There By Members Of   The   Populace From Other Parts Of   The   City. 
 It Was Known That The   First Intimation Of   The   Result Of   The   Embassy 
 Would Be Given From This Place; And In The   Eagerness Of   Their Anxiety 
 To Hear It, In The   Painful Intensity Of   Their Final Hopes Of 
 Deliverance, Even Death Itself Seemed For A While To Be Arrested In Its 
 Fatal Progress Through The   Ranks Of   The   Besieged. 
   
   
   
 In Silence And Apprehension They Counted The   Tardy Moments Of   Delay, 
 And Watched With Sickening Gaze The   Shadows Lessening And Lessening, As 
 The Sun Gradually Rose In The   Heavens To The   Meridian Point. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 125 
 At Length, After An Absence That Appeared Of   Endless Duration, The   Two 
 Ambassadors Re-Entered Rome. Neither Of   Them Spoke As They Hurriedly 
 Passed Through The   Ranks Of   The   People; But Their Looks Of   Terror And 
 Despair Were All-Eloquent To Every Beholder--Their Mission Had Failed. 
   
   
   
 For Some Time No Member Of   The   Government Appeared To Have Resolution 
 Enough To Come Forward And Harangue The   People On The   Subject Of   The 
 Unsuccessful Embassy.  After A Long Interval, However, The   Prefect 
 Pompeianus Himself, Urged Partly By The   Selfish Entreaties Of   His 
 Friends, And Partly By The   Childish Love Of   Display Which Still Adhered 
 To Him Through All His Present Anxieties And Apprehensions, Stepped 
 Into One Of   The   Lower Balconies Of   The   Senate-House To Address The 
 Citizens Beneath Him. 
   
   
   
 The Chief Magistrate Of   Rome Was No Longer The   Pompous And Portly 
 Personage Whose Intrusion On Vetranio's Privacy During The   Commencement 
 Of The   Siege Has Been Described Previously.  The   Little Superfluous 
 Flesh Still Remaining On His Face Hung About It Like An Ill-Fitting 
 Garment; His Tones Had Become Lachrymose; The   Oratorical Gestures, With 
 Which He Was Wont To Embellish Profusely His Former Speeches, Were All 
 Abandoned; Nothing Remained Of   The   Original Man But The   Bombast Of   His 
 Language And The   Impudent Complacency Of   His Self-Applause, Which Now 
 Appeared In Contemptible Contrast To His Crestfallen Demeanour And His 
 Disheartening Narrative Of   Degradation And Defeat. 
   
   
   
 'Men Of   Rome, Let Each Of   You Exercise In His Own Person The   Heroic 
 Virtues Of   A Regulus Or A Cato!' The   Prefect Began.  'A Treaty With The 
 Barbarians Is Out Of   Our Power.  It Is The   Scourge Of   The   Empire, 
 Alaric Himself, Who Commands The   Invading Forces!  Vain Were The 
 Dignified Remonstrances Of   The   Grave Basilius, Futile Was The 
 Persuasive Rhetoric Of   The   Astute Johannes, Addressed To The 
 Slaughtering And Vainglorious Goth!  On Their Admission To His 
 Presence, The   Ambassadors, Anxious To Awe Him Into A Capitulation, 
 Enlarged, With Sagacious And Commendable Patriotism, On The   Expertness 
 Of The   Romans In The   Use Of   Arms, Their Readiness For War, And Their 
 Vast Numbers Within The   City Walls.  I Blush To Repeat The   Barbarian's 
 Reply.  Laughing Immoderately, He Answered, "The Thicker The   Grass, The 
 Easier It Is To Cut!" 
   
   
   
 'Still Undismayed, The   Ambassadors, Changing Their Tactics, Talked 
 Indulgently Of   Their Willingness To Purchase A Peace.  At This 
 Proposal, His Insolence Burst Beyond All Bounds Of   Barbarous Arrogance. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 126 
 "I Will Not Relinquish The   Siege," He Cried, "Until I Have Delivered To 
 Me All The   Gold And Silver In The   City, All The   Household Goods In It, 
 And All The   Slaves From The   Northern Countries."  "What Then, O King, 
 Will You Leave Us?" Asked Our Amazed Ambassadors.  "Your Lives!" 
 Answered The   Implacable Goth.  Hearing This, Even The   Resolute Basilius 
 And The   Wise Johannes Despaired.  They Asked Time To Communicate With 
 The Senate, And Left The   Camp Of   The   Enemy Without Further Delay.  Such 
 Was The   End Of   The   Embassy; Such The   Arrogant Ferocity Of   The   Barbarian 
 Foe!' 
   
   
   
 Here The   Prefect Paused, From Sheer Weakness And Want Of   Breath.  His 
 Oration, However, Was Not Concluded.  He Had Disheartened The   People By 
 His Narrative Of   What Had Occurred To The   Ambassadors; He Now Proceeded 
 To Console Them By His Relation Of   What Had Occurred To Himself, When, 
 After An Interval, He Thus Resumed:-- 
   
   
   
   
 'But Even Yet, O Citizens Of   Rome, It Is Not Time To Despair!  There Is 
 Another Chance Of   Deliverance Still Left To Us, And That Chance Has 
 Been Discovered By Me.  It Was My Lot, During The   Absence Of   The 
 Ambassadors, To Meet With Certain Men Of   Tuscany, Who Had Entered Rome 
 A Few Days Before The   Beginning Of   The   Siege, And Who Spoke Of   A 
 Project For Relieving The   City Which They Would Communicate To The 
 Prefect Alone. Ever Anxious For The   Public Welfare, Daring All 
 Treachery From Strangers For Advantage Of   My Office, I Accorded To 
 These Men A Secret Interview. They Told Me Of   A Startling And 
 Miraculous Event.  The   Town Of   Neveia, Lying, As You Well Know, In The 
 Direct Road Of   The   Barbarians When They Marched Upon Rome, Was 
 Protected From Their Pillaging Bands By A Tempest Of   Thunder And 
 Lightning Terrible To Behold.  This Tempest Arose Not, As You May 
 Suppose, From An Accidental Convulsion Of   The   Elements, But Was 
 Launched Over The   Heads Of   The   Invaders By The   Express Interference Of 
 The Tutelary Deities Of   The   Town, Invocated By The   Inhabitants, Who 
 Returned In Their Danger To The   Practice Of   Their Ancient Manner Of 
 Worship.  So Said The   Men Of   Tuscany; And Such Pious Resources As Those 
 Employed By The   People Of   Neveia Did They Recommend To The   People Of 
 Rome!  For My Part, I Acknowledge To You That I Have Faith In Their 
 Project.  The   Antiquity Of   Our Former Worship Is Still Venerable In My 
 Eyes.  The   Prayers Of   The   Priests Of   Our New Religion Have Wrought No 
 Miraculous Interference In Our Behalf:  Let Us Therefore Imitate The 
 Example Of   The   Inhabitants Of   Neveia, And By The   Force Of   Our 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 127 
 Invocations Hurl The   Thunders Of   Jupiter On The   Barbarian Camp!  Let Us 
 Trust For Deliverance To The   Potent Interposition Of   The   Gods Whom Our 
 Fathers Worshipped--Those Gods Who Now, Perhaps, Avenge Themselves For 
 Our Desertion Of   Their Temples By Our Present Calamities.  I Go Without 
 Delay To Propose To The   Bishop Innocentius And To The   Senate, The 
 Public Performance Of   Solemn Ceremonies Of   Sacrifice At The   Capitol!  I 
 Leave You In The   Joyful Assurance That The   Gods, Appeased By Our 
 Returning Fidelity To Our Altars, Will Not Refuse The   Supernatural 
 Protection Which They Accorded To The   People Of   A Provincial Town To 
 The Citizens Of   Rome!' 
   
   
   
 No Sounds Either Of   Applause Or Disapprobation Followed The   Prefect's 
 Notable Proposal For Delivering The   City From The   Besiegers By The 
 Public Apostasy Of   The   Besieged.  As He Disappeared From Their Eyes, 
 The Audience Turned Away Speechless.  An Universal Despair Now 
 Overpowered In Them Even The   Last Energies Of   Discord And Crime; They 
 Resigned Themselves To Their Doom With The   Gloomy Indifference Of 
 Beings In Whom All Mortal Sensations, All Human Passions, Good Or Evil, 
 Were Extinguished.  The   Prefect Departed On His Ill-Omened Expedition 
 To Propose The   Practice Of   Paganism To The   Bishop Of   A Christian 
 Church; But No Profitable Effort For Relief Was Even Suggested, Either 
 By The   Government Or The   People. 
   
   
   
 And So This Day Drew In Its Turn Towards A Close--More Mournful And 
 More Disastrous, More Fraught With Peril, Misery, And Gloom, Than The 
 Days That Had Preceded It. 
   
   
   
 The Next Morning Dawned, But No Preparations For The   Ceremonies Of   The 
 Ancient Worship Appeared At The   Capitol.  The   Senate And The   Bishop 
 Hesitated To Incur The   Responsibility Of   Authorising A Public 
 Restoration Of   Paganism; The   Citizens, Hopeless Of   Succour, Heavenly Or 
 Earthly, Remained Unheedful As The   Dead Of   All That Passed Around Them. 
   
   
   
 There Was One Man In Rome Who Might Have Succeeded In Rousing Their 
 Languid Energies To Apostasy; But Where And How Employed Was He? 
   
   
   
 Now, When The   Opportunity For Which He Had Laboured Resolutely, Though 
 In Vain, Through A Long Existence Of   Suffering, Degradation, And Crime, 
 Had Gratuitously Presented Itself More Tempting And More Favourable 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 128 
 Than Even He In His Wildest Visions Of   Success Had Ever Dared To 
 Hope--Where Was Ulpius?  Hidden From Men's Eyes, Like A Foul Reptile, 
 In His Lurking-Place In The   Deserted Temple--Now Raving Round His Idols 
 In The   Fury Of   Madness, Now Prostrate Before Them In Idiot 
 Adoration--Weaker For The   Interests Of   His Worship, At The   Crisis Of 
 Its Fate, Than The   Weakest Child Crawling Famished Through The 
 Streets--The Victim Of   His Own Evil Machinations At The   Very Moment 
 When They Might Have Led Him To Triumph--The Object Of   That Worst 
 Earthly Retribution, By Which The   Wicked Are At Once Thwarted, Doomed, 
 And Punished, Here As Hereafter, Through The   Agency Of   Their Own Sins. 
   
   
   
   
 Three More Days Passed.  The   Senate, Their Numbers Fast Diminishing In 
 The Pestilence, Occupied The   Time In Vain Deliberations Or In Moody 
 Silence.  Each Morning The   Weary Guards Looked Forth From The   Ramparts, 
 With The   Fruitless Hope Of   Discerning The   Long-Promised Legions From 
 Ravenna On Their Way To Rome; And Each Morning Devastation And Death 
 Gained Ground Afresh Among The   Hapless Besieged. 
   
   
   
 At Length, On The   Fourth Day, The   Senate Abandoned All Hope Of   Further 
 Resistance And Determined On Submission, Whatever Might Be The   Result. 
 It Was Resolved That Another Embassy, Composed Of   The   Whole Acting 
 Senate, And Followed By A Considerable Train, Should Proceed To Alaric; 
 That One More Effort Should Be Made To Induce Him To Abate His Ruinous 
 Demands On The   Conquered; And That If This Failed, The   Gates Should Be 
 Thrown Open, And The   City And The   People Abandoned To His Mercy In 
 Despair. 
   
   
   
 As Soon As The   Procession Of   This Last Roman Embassy Was Formed In The 
 Forum, Its Numbers Were Almost Immediately Swelled, In Spite Of 
 Opposition, By Those Among The   Mass Of   The   People Who Were Still Able 
 To Move Their Languid And Diseased Bodies, And Who, In The   Extremity Of 
 Their Misery, Had Determined At All Hazards To Take Advantage Of   The 
 Opening Of   The   Gates, And Fly From The   City Of   Pestilence In Which They 
 Were Immured, Careless Whether They Perished On The   Swords Of   The   Goths 
 Or Languished Unaided On The   Open Plains.  All Power Of   Enforcing Order 
 Had Long Since Been Lost; The   Few Soldiers Gathered About The   Senators 
 Made One Abortive Effort To Drive The   People Back, And Then Resigned 
 Any Further Resistance To Their Will. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 129 
 Feebly And Silently The   Spirit-Broken Assembly Now Moved Along The 
 Great Highways, So Often Trodden, To The   Roar Of   Martial Music And The 
 Shouts Of   Applauding Multitudes, By The   Triumphal Processions Of 
 Victorious Rome; And From Every Street, As It Passed On, The   Wasted 
 Forms Of   The   People Stole Out Like Spectres To Join It. 
   
   
   
 Among These, As The   Embassy Approached The   Pincian Gate, Were Two, 
 Hurrying Forth To Herd With Their Fellow-Sufferers, On Whose Fortunes 
 In The   Fallen City Our More Particular Attention Has Been Fixed.  To 
 Explain Their Presence On The   Scene (If Such An Explanation Be 
 Required) It Is Necessary To Digress For A Moment From The   Progress Of 
 Events During The   Last Days Of   The   Siege To The   Morning When Antonina 
 Departed From Vetranio's Palace To Return With Her Succour Of   Food And 
 Wine To Her Father's House. 
   
   
   
 The Reader Is Already Acquainted, From Her Own Short And Simple 
 Narrative, With The   History Of   The   Closing Hours Of   Her Mournful Night 
 Vigil By The   Side Of   Her Sinking Parent, And With The   Motives Which 
 Prompted Her To Seek The   Palace Of   The   Senator, And Entreat Assistance 
 In Despair From One Whom She Only Remembered As The   Profligate 
 Destroyer Of   Her Tranquility Under Her Father's Roof. It Is Now, 
 Therefore, Most Fitting To Follow Her On Her Way Back Through The 
 Palace Gardens.  No Living Creature But Herself Trod The   Grassy Paths, 
 Along Which She Hastened With Faltering Steps--Those Paths Which She 
 Dimly Remembered To Have First Explored When In Former Days She 
 Ventured Forth To Follow The   Distant Sounds Of   Vetranio's Lute. 
   
   
   
 In Spite Of   Her Vague, Heavy Sensations Of   Solitude And Grief, This 
 Recollection Remained Painfully Present To Her Mind, Unaccountably 
 Mingled With The   Dark And Dreary Apprehension Which Filled Her Heart As 
 She Hurried Onward, Until She Once More Entered Her Father's Dwelling; 
 And Then, As She Again Approached His Couch, Every Other Feeling Became 
 Absorbed In A Faint, Overpowering Fear, Lest, After All Her 
 Perseverance And Success In Her Errand Of   Filial Devotion, She Might 
 Have Returned Too Late. 
   
   
   
   
 The Old Man Still Lived--His Weary Eyes Opened Gladly On Her, When She 
 Aroused Him To Partake Of   The   Treasured Gifts From The   Senator's 
 Banqueting Table.  The   Wretched Food Which The   Suicide-Guests Had 
 Disdained, And The   Simple Flask Of   Wine Which They Would Have 
 Carelessly Quaffed At One Draught, Were Viewed Both By Parent And Child 
 As The   Saving And Invigorating Sustenance Of   Many Days.  After Having 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 130 
 Consumed As Much As They Dared Of   Their Precarious Supply, The 
 Remainder Was Carefully Husbanded.  It Was The   Last Sign And Promise Of 
 Life To Which They Looked--The Humble Yet Precious Store In Which Alone 
 They Beheld The   Earnest Of   Their Security, For A Few Days Longer, From 
 The Pangs Of   Famine And The   Separation Of   Death. 
   
   
   
 And Now, With Their Small Provision Of   Food And Wine Set Like A Beacon 
 Of Safety Before Their Sight, A Deep, Dream-Like Serenity--The Sleep Of 
 The Oppressed And Wearied Faculties--Arose Over Their Minds. Under Its 
 Mysterious And Tranquilising Influence, All Impressions Of   The   Gloom 
 And Misery In The   City, Of   The   Fatal Evidences Around Them Of   The 
 Duration Of   The   Siege, Faded Away Before Their Perceptions As Dim 
 Retiring Objects, Which The   Eye Loses In Vacancy. 
   
   
   
 Gradually, As The   Day Of   The   First Unsuccessful Embassy Declined, Their 
 Thoughts Began To Flow Back Gently To The   World Of   Bygone Events Which 
 Had Crumbled Into Oblivion Beneath The   March Of   Time. Her First 
 Recollections Of   Her Earliest Childhood Revived In Antonina's Memory, 
 And Then Mingled Strangely With Tearful Remembrances Of   The   Last Words 
 And Looks Of   The   Young Warrior Who Had Expired By Her Side, And With 
 Calm, Solemn Thoughts That The   Beloved Spirit, Emancipated From The 
 Sphere Of   Shadows, Might Now Be Hovering Near The   Quiet Garden-Grave 
 Where Her Bitterest Tears Of   Loneliness And Affliction Had Been Shed, 
 Or Moving Around Her--An Invisible And Blessed Presence--As She Sat At 
 Her Father's Feet And Mourned Their Earthly Separation! 
   
   
   
 In The   Emotions Thus Awakened, There Was Nothing Of   Bitterness Or 
 Agony--They Calmed And Purified The   Heart Through Which They Moved. 
 She Could Now Speak To The   Old Man, For The   First Time, Of   Her Days Of 
 Absence From Him, Of   The   Brief Joys And Long Sorrows Of   Her Hours Of 
 Exile, Without Failing In Her Melancholy Tale.  Sometimes Her Father 
 Listened To Her In Sorrowful And Speechless Attention; Or Spoke, When 
 She Paused, Of   Consolation And Hope, As She Had Heard Him Speak Among 
 His Congregation While He Was Yet Strong In His Resolution To Sacrifice 
 All Things For The   Reformation Of   The   Church.  Sometimes Resigning 
 Himself To The   Influence Of   His Thoughts, As They Glided Back To The 
 Times That Were Gone, He Again Revealed To Her The   Changing Events Of 
 His Past Life--Not As Before, With Unsteady Accents And Wandering Eyes; 
 But Now With A Calmness Of   Voice And A Coherence Of   Language Which 
 Forbade Her To Doubt The   Strange And Startling Narrative That She Heard. 
   
   
   
 Once More He Spoke Of   The   Image Of   His Lost Brother (As He Had Parted 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 131 
 From Him In His Boyhood) Still Present To His Mind; Of   The   Country That 
 He Had Quitted In After Years; Of   The   Name That He Had Changed--From 
 Cleander To Numerian--To Foil His Former Associates, If They Still 
 Pursued Him; And Of   The   Ardent Desire To Behold Again The   Companion Of 
 His First Home, Which Now, When His Daughter Was Restored To Him, When 
 No Other Earthly Aspiration But This Was Unsatisfied, Remained At The 
 Close Of   His Life, The   Last Longing Wish Of   His Heart. 
   
   
   
 Such Was The   Communion In Which Father And Daughter Passed The   Hours Of 
 Their Short Reprieve From The   Judgment Of   Famine Pronounced Against The 
 City Of   Their Sojourn; So Did They Live, As It Were, In A Quiet 
 Interval Of   Existence, In A Tranquil Pause Between The   Toil That Is 
 Over And The   Toil That Is To Come In The   Hard Labour Of   Life. 
   
   
   
 But The   Term To These Short Days Of   Repose After Long Suffering And 
 Grief Was Fast Approaching.  The   Little Hoard Of   Provision Diminished 
 As Rapidly As The   Stores That Had Been Anxiously Collected Before It; 
 And, On The   Morning Of   The   Second Embassy To Alaric, The   Flask Of   Wine 
 And The   Bowl Of   Food Were Both Emptied.  The   Brief Dream Of   Security 
 Was Over And Gone; The   Terrible Realities Of   The   Struggle For Life Had 
 Begun Again! 
   
   
   
 Where Or To Whom Could They Now Turn For Help?  The   Siege Still 
 Continued; The   Food Just Exhausted Was The   Last Food That Had Been Left 
 On The   Senator's Table; To Seek The   Palace Again Would Be To Risk 
 Refusal, Perhaps Insult, As The   Result Of   A Second Entreaty For Aid, 
 Where All Power Of   Conferring It Might Now But Too Surely Be Lost. 
 Such Were The   Thoughts Of   Antonina As She Returned The   Empty Bowl To 
 Its Former Place; But She Gave Them No Expression In Words. 
   
   
   
   
 She Saw, With Horror, That The   Same Expression Of   Despair, Almost Of 
 Frenzy, Which Had Distorted Her Father's Features On The   Day Of   Her 
 Restoration To Him, Now Marked Them Again.  Once More He Tottered 
 Towards The   Window, Murmuring In His Bitter Despondency Against The 
 Delusive Security And Hope Which Had Held Him Idle For The   Interests Of 
 His Child During The   Few Days That Were Past.  But, As He Now Looked 
 Out On The   Beleaguered City, He Saw The   Populace Hastening Along The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 23 ( The Last Efforts Of The Besieged  ) Pg 132 
 Gloomy Street Beneath, As Rapidly As Their Wearied Limbs Would Carry 
 Them, To Join The   Embassy.  He Heard Them Encouraging Each Other To 
 Proceed, To Seize The   Last Chance Of   Escaping Through The   Open Gates 
 From The   Horrors Of   Famine And Plague; And Caught The   Infection Of   The 
 Recklessness And Despair Which Had Seized His Fellow-Sufferers From One 
 End Of   Rome To The   Other. 
   
   
   
 Turning Instantly, He Grasped His Daughter's Hand And Drew Her From The 
 Room, Commanding Her To Come Forth With Him And Join The   Citizens In 
 Their Flight, Ere It Was Too Late.  Startled By His Words And Actions, 
 She Vainly Endeavoured, As She Obeyed, To Impress Her Father With The 
 Dread Of   The   Goths Which Her Own Bitter Experience Taught Her To Feel, 
 Now That Her Only Protector Among Them Lay Cold In The   Grave.  With 
 Numerian, As With The   Rest Of   The   People, All Apprehension, All Doubt, 
 All Exercise Of   Reason, Was Overpowered By The   One Eager Idea Of 
 Escaping From The   Fatal Precincts Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 So They Mingled With The   Throng, Herding Affrightedly Together In The 
 Rear Of   The   Embassy, And Followed In Their Ranks As Best They Might. 
   
   
   
 The Sun Shone Down Brightly From The   Pure Blue Sky; The   Wind Bore Into 
 The City The   Sharp Threatening Notes Of   The   Trumpets From The   Gothic 
 Camp, As The   Pincian Gate Was Opened To The   Ambassadors And Their 
 Train. With One Accord The   Crowd Instantly Endeavoured To Force Their 
 Way Out After Them In A Mass; But They Now Moved In A Narrow Space, And 
 Were Opposed By A Large Reinforcement Of   The   City Guard.  After A Short 
 Struggle They Were Overpowered, And The   Gates Were Closed.  Some Few Of 
 The Strongest And The   Foremost Of   Their Numbers Succeeded In Following 
 The Ambassadors; The   Greater Part, However, Remained On The   Inner Side 
 Of The   Gate, Pressing Closely Up To It In Their Impatience And Despair, 
 Like Prisoners Awaiting Their Deliverance, Or Preparing To Force Their 
 Escape. 
   
   
   
 Among These, Feeblest Amid The   Most Feeble, Were Numerian And Antonina, 
 Hemmed In By The   Surrounding Crowd, And Shut Out Either From Flight 
 From The   City Or A Return To Home. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 133 
 While The   Second And Last Embassy From The   Senate Proceeds Towards The 
 Tent Of   The   Gothic King, While The   Streets Of   Rome Are Deserted By All 
 But The   Dead, And The   Living Populace Crowd Together In Speechless 
 Expectation Behind The   Barrier Of   The   Pincian Gate, An Opportunity Is 
 At Length Afforded Of   Turning Our Attention Towards A Scene From Which 
 It Has Been Long Removed.  Let Us Now Revisit The   Farm-House In The 
 Suburbs, And Look Once More On The   Quiet Garden And On Hermanric's 
 Grave. 
   
   
   
 The Tranquility Of   The   Bright Warm Day Is Purest Around The   Retired 
 Path Leading To The   Little Dwelling. Here The   Fragrance Of   Wild Flowers 
 Rises Pleasantly From The   Waving Grass; The   Lulling, Monotonous Hum Of 
 Insect Life Pervades The   Light, Steady Air; The   Sunbeams, Intercepted 
 Here And There By The   Clustering Trees, Fall In Irregular Patches Of 
 Brightness On The   Shady Ground; And, Saving The   Birds Which 
 Occasionally Pass Overhead, Singing In Their Flight, No Living Creature 
 Appears On The   Quiet Scene, Until, Gaining The   Wicket-Gate Which Leads 
 Into The   Farm-House Garden, We Look Forth Upon The   Prospect Within. 
   
   
   
 There, Following The   Small Circular Footpath Which Her Own Persevering 
 Steps Have Day By Day Already Traced, Appears The   Form Of   A Solitary 
 Woman, Pacing Slowly About The   Mound Of   Grassy Earth Which Marks The 
 Grave Of   The   Young Goth. 
   
   
   
   
 For Some Time She Proceeds On Her Circumscribed Round With As Much 
 Undeviating, Mechanical Regularity, As If Beyond That Narrow Space Rose 
 A Barrier Which Caged Her From Ever Setting Foot On The   Earth Beyond. 
 At Length She Pauses In Her Course When It Brings Her Nearest To The 
 Wicket, Advances A Few Steps Towards It, Then Recedes, And Recommences 
 Her Monotonous Progress, And Then Again Breaking Off On Her Round, 
 Finally Succeeds In Withdrawing Herself From The   Confines Of   The   Grave, 
 Passes Through The   Gate, And Following The   Path To The   High-Road, 
 Slowly Proceeds Towards The   Eastern Limits Of   The   Gothic Camp.  The 
 Fixed, Ghastly, Unfeminine Expression On Her Features Marks Her As The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 134 
 Same Woman Whom We Last Beheld As The   Assassin At The   Farm-House, But 
 Beyond This She Is Hardly Recognisable Again.  Her Formerly Powerful 
 And Upright Frame Is Bent And Lean; Her Hair Waves In Wild, White Locks 
 About Her Shrivelled Face; All The   Rude Majesty Of   Her Form Has 
 Departed; There Is Nothing To Show That It Is Still Goisvintha Haunting 
 The Scene Of   Her Crime But The   Savage Expression Debasing Her 
 Countenance And Betraying The   Evil Heart Within, Unsubdued As Ever In 
 Its Yearning For Destruction And Revenge. 
   
   
   
 Since The   Period When We Last Beheld Her, Removed In The   Custody Of   The 
 Huns From The   Dead Body Of   Her Kinsman, The   Farm-House Had Been The 
 Constant Scene Of   Her Pilgrimage From The   Camp, The   Chosen Refuge Where 
 She Brooded In Solitude Over Her Fierce Desires.  Scorning To Punish A 
 Woman Whom He Regarded As Insane For An Absence From The   Tents Of   The 
 Goths Which Was Of   No Moment Wither To The   Army Or To Himself, Alaric 
 Had Impatiently Dismissed Her From His Presence When She Was Brought 
 Before Him.  The   Soldiers Who Had Returned To Bury The   Body Of   Their 
 Chieftain In The   Garden Of   The   Farm-House, Found Means To Inform Her 
 Secretly Of   The   Charitable Act Which They Had Performed At Their Own 
 Peril, But Beyond This No Further Intercourse Was Held With Her By Any 
 Of Her Former Associates. 
   
   
   
 All Her Actions Favoured Their Hasty Belief That Her Faculties Were 
 Disordered, And Others Shunned Her As She Shunned Them.  Her Daily 
 Allowance Of   Food Was Left For Her To Seek At A Certain Place In The 
 Camp, As It Might Have Been Left For An Animal Too Savage To Be 
 Cherished By The   Hand Of   Man.  At Certain Periods She Returned Secretly 
 From Her Wanderings To Take It.  Her Shelter For The   Night Was Not The 
 Shelter Of   Her People Before The   Walls Of   Rome; Her Thoughts Were Not 
 Their Thoughts.  Widowed, Childless, Friendless, The   Assassin Of   Her 
 Last Kinsman, She Moved Apart In Her Own Secret World Of   Bereavement, 
 Desolation, And Crime. 
   
   
   
 Yet There Was No Madness, No Remorse For Her Share In Accomplishing The 
 Fate Of   Hermanric, In The   Dark And Solitary Existence Which She Now 
 Led. From The   Moment When The   Young Warrior Had Expiated With His Death 
 His Disregard Of   The   Enmities Of   His Nation And The   Wrongs Of   His 
 Kindred, She Thought Of   Him Only As Of   One More Victim Whose Dishonour 
 And Ruin She Must Live To Requite On The   Romans With Roman Blood, And 
 Matured Her Schemes Of   Revenge With A Stern Resolution Which Time, And 
 Solitude, And Bodily Infirmity Were All Powerless To Disturb. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 135 
   
   
 She Would Pace For Hours And Hours Together, In The   Still Night And In 
 The Broad Noonday, Round And Round The   Warrior's Grave, Nursing Her 
 Vengeful Thoughts Within Her, Until A Ferocious Anticipation Of   Triumph 
 Quickened Her Steps And Brightened Her Watchful Eyes.  Then She Would 
 Enter The   Farm-House, And, Drawing The   Knife From Its Place Of 
 Concealment In Her Garments, Would Pass Its Point Slowly Backwards And 
 Forwards Over The   Hearth On Which She Had Mutilated Hermanric With Her 
 Own Hand, And From Which He Had Advanced, Without A Tremor, To Meet The 
 Sword-Points Of   The   Huns. Sometimes, When Darkness Had Gathered Over 
 The Earth, She Would Stand--A Boding And Menacing Apparition--Upon The 
 Grave Itself, And Chaunt, Moaning To The   Moaning Wind, Fragments Of 
 Obscure Northern Legends, Whose Hideous Burden Was Ever Of   Anguish And 
 Crime, Of   Torture In Prison Vaults, And Death By The   Annihilating 
 Sword--Mingling With Them The   Gloomy Story Of   The   Massacre At Aquileia, 
 And Her Fierce Vows Of   Vengeance Against The   Households Of   Rome.  The 
 Forager, On His Late Return Past The   Farm-House To The   Camp, Heard The 
 Harsh, Droning Accents Of   Her Voice, And Quickened His Onward Step. 
 The Venturesome Peasant From The   Country Beyond, Approaching Under 
 Cover Of   The   Night To Look From Afar On The   Gothic Camp, Beheld Her 
 Form, Shadowy And Threatening, As He Neared The   Garden, And Fled 
 Affrighted From The   Place.  Neither Stranger Nor Friend Intruded On Her 
 Dread Solitude.  The   Foul Presence Of   Cruelty And Crime Violated 
 Undisturbed The   Scenes Once Sacred To The   Interests Of   Tenderness And 
 Love, Once Hallowed By The   Sojourn Of   Youth And Beauty! 
   
   
   
 But Now The   Farm-House Garden Is Left Solitary, The   Haunting Spirit Of 
 Evil Has Departed From The   Grave, The   Footsteps Of   Goisvintha Have 
 Traced To Their Close The   Same Paths From The   Suburbs Over Which The 
 Young Goth Once Eagerly Hastened On His Night Journey Of   Love; And 
 Already The   Walls Of   Rome Rise--Dark, Near, And Hateful--Before Her 
 Eyes.  Along These Now Useless Bulwarks Of   The   Fallen City She Wanders, 
 As She Has Often Wandered Before, Watching Anxiously For The   First 
 Opening Of   The   Long-Closed Gates.  Let Us Follow Her On Her Way. 
   
   
   
 Her Attention Was Now Fixed Only On The   Broad Ramparts, While She 
 Passed Slowly Along The   Gothic Tents Towards The   Encampment At The 
 Pincian Gate.  Arrived There, She Was Aroused For The   First Time From 
 Her Apathy By An Unwonted Stir And Confusion Prevailing Around Her. 
 She Looked Towards The   Tent Of   Alaric, And Beheld Before It The   Wasted 
 And Crouching Forms Of   The   Followers Of   The   Embassy Awaiting Their 
 Sentence From The   Captain Of   The   Northern Hosts.  In A Few Moments She 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 136 
 Gathered Enough From The   Words Of   The   Goths Congregated About This Part 
 Of The   Camp To Assure Her That It Was The   Pincian Gate Which Had Given 
 Egress To The   Roman Suppliants, And Which Would Therefore, In All 
 Probability, Be The   Entrance Again Thrown Open To Admit Their Return To 
 The City. Remembering This, She Began To Calculate The   Numbers Of   The 
 Conquered Enemy Grouped Together Before The   King's Tent, And Then 
 Mentally Added To Them Those Who Might Be Present At The   Interview 
 Proceeding Within--Mechanically Withdrawing Herself, While Thus 
 Occupied, Nearer And Nearer To The   Waste Ground Before The   City Walls. 
   
   
   
 Gradually She Turned Her Face Towards Rome:  She Was Realising A Daring 
 Purpose, A Fatal Resolution, Long Cherished During The   Days And Nights 
 Of Her Solitary Wanderings.  'The Ranks Of   The   Embassy,' She Muttered, 
 In A Deep, Thoughtful Tone, 'Are Thickly Filled.  Where There Are Many 
 There Must Be Confusion And Haste; They March Together, And Know Not 
 Their Own Numbers; They Mark Not One More Or One Less Among Them.' 
   
   
   
 She Stopped.  Strange And Dark Changes Of   Colour And Expression Passed 
 Over Her Ghastly Features. She Drew From Her Bosom The   Bloody 
 Helmet-Crest Of   Her Husband, Which Had Never Quitted Her Since The   Day 
 Of His Death; Her Face Grew Livid Under An Awful Expression Of   Rage, 
 Ferocity, And Despair, As She Gazed On It.  Suddenly She Looked Up At 
 The City--Fierce And Defiant, As If The   Great Walls Before Her Were 
 Mortal Enemies Against Whom She Stood At Bay In The   Death-Struggle. 
   
   
   
 'The Widowed And The   Childless Shall Drink Of   Thy Blood!' She Cried, 
 Stretching Out Her Skinny Hand Towards Rome, 'Though The   Armies Of   Her 
 Nation Barter Their Wrongs With Thy People For Bags Of   Silver And Gold! 
 I Have Pondered On It In My Solitude, And Dreamed Of   It In My Dreams! 
 I Have Sworn That I Would Enter Rome, And Avenge My Slaughtered 
 Kindred, Alone Among Thousands!  Now, Now, I Will Hold To My Oath! 
 Thou Blood-Stained City Of   The   Coward And The   Traitor, The   Enemy Of   The 
 Defenceless, And The   Murderer Of   The   Weak! Thou Who Didst Send Forth To 
 Aquileia The   Slayers Of   My Husband And The   Assassins Of   My Children, I 
 Wait No Longer Before Thy Walls!  This Day Will I Mingle, Daring All 
 Things, With Thy Returning Citizens And Penetrate, Amid Romans, The 
 Gates Of   Rome!  Through The   Day Will I Lurk, Cunning And Watchful, In 
 Thy Solitary Haunts, To Steal Forth On Thee At Nights, A Secret 
 Minister Of   Death!  I Will Watch For Thy Young And Thy Weak Once In 
 Unguarded Places; I Will Prey, Alone In The   Thick Darkness, Upon Thy 
 Unprotected Lives; I Will Destroy Thy Children, As Their Fathers 
 Destroyed At Aquileia The   Children Of   The   Goths!  Thy Rabble Will 
 Discover Me And Arise Against Me; They Will Tear Me In Pieces And 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 137 
 Trample My Mangled Body On The   Pavement Of   The   Streets; But It Will Be 
 After I Have Seen The   Blood That I Have Sworn To Shed Flowing Under My 
 Knife!  My Vengeance Will Be Complete, And Torments And Death Will Be 
 To Me As Guests That I Welcome, And As Deliverers Whom I Await!' 
   
   
   
 Again She Paused--The Wild Triumph Of   The   Fanatic On The   Burning Pile 
 Was Flashing In Her Face--Suddenly Her Eyes Fell Once More Upon The 
 Stained Helmet-Crest; Then Her Expression Changed Again To Despair, And 
 Her Voice Grew Low And Moaning, When She Thus Resumed:-- 
   
   
   
   
 'I Am Weary Of   My Life; When The   Vengeance Is Done I Shall Be Delivered 
 From This Prison Of   The   Earth--In The   World Of   Shadows I Shall See My 
 Husband, And My Little Ones Will Gather Round My Knees Again. The 
 Living Have No Part In Me; I Yearn Towards The   Spirits Who Wander In 
 The Halls Of   The   Dead.' 
   
   
   
 For A Few Minutes More She Continued To Fix Her Tearless Eyes On The 
 Helmet-Crest.  But Soon The   Influence Of   The   Evil Spirit Revived In All 
 Its Strength; She Raised Her Head Suddenly, Remained For An Instant 
 Absorbed In Deep Thought, Then Began To Retrace Her Steps Rapidly In 
 The Direction By Which She Had Come. 
   
   
   
 Sometimes She Whispered Softly, 'I Must Be Doing Ere The   Time Fail Me: 
 My Face Must Be Hidden And My Garments Changed.  Yonder, Among The 
 Houses, I Must Search, And Search Quickly!'  Sometimes She Reiterated 
 Her Denunciations Of   Vengeance, Her Ejaculations Of   Triumph In Her 
 Frantic Project.  At The   Recapitulation Of   These The   Remembrance Of 
 Antonina Was Aroused; And Then A Bloodthirsty Superstition Darkened Her 
 Thoughts, And Threw A Vague And Dreamy Character Over Her Speech. 
   
   
   
 When She Spoke Now, It Was To Murmur To Herself That The   Victim Who Had 
 Twice Escaped Her Might Yet Be Alive; That The   Supernatural Influences 
 Which Had Often Guided The   Old Goths, On The   Day Of   Retribution, Might 
 Still Guide Her; Might Still Direct The   Stroke Of   Her Destroying 
 Weapon--The Last Stroke Ere She Was Discovered And Slain--Straight To 
 The Girl's Heart. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 138 
   
   
 Thoughts Such As These--Wandering And Obscure--Arose In Close, Quick 
 Succession Within Her; But Whether She Gave Them Expression In Word And 
 Action, Or Whether She Suppressed Them In Silence, She Never Wavered Or 
 Halted In Her Rapid Progress.  Her Energies Were Braced To All 
 Emergencies, And Her Strong Will Suffered Them Not For An Instant To 
 Relax. 
   
   
   
 She Gained A Retired Street In The   Deserted Suburbs, And Looking Round 
 To See That She Was Unobserved, Entered On Of   The   Houses Abandoned By 
 Its Inhabitants On The   Approach Of   The   Besiegers.  Passing Quickly 
 Through The   Outer Halls, She Stopped At Length In One Of   The   Sleeping 
 Apartments; And Here She Found, Among Other Possessions Left Behind In 
 The Flight, The   Store Of   Wearing Apparel Belonging To The   Owner Of   The 
 Room. 
   
   
   
 From This She Selected A Roman Robe, Upper Mantle, And Sandals--The 
 Most Common In Colour And Texture That She Could Find--And Folding Them 
 Up Into The   Smallest Compass, Hid Them Under Her Own Garments.  Then, 
 Avoiding All Those Whom She Met On Her Way, She Returned In The 
 Direction Of   The   King's Tent; But When She Approached It, Branched Off 
 Stealthily Towards Rome, Until She Reached A Ruined Building Half-Way 
 Between The   City And The   Camp.  In This Concealment She Clothed Herself 
 In Her Disguise, Drawing The   Mantle Closely Round Her Head And Face; 
 And From This Point--Calm, Vigilant, Determined, Her Hand On The   Knife 
 Beneath Her Robe, Her Lips Muttering The   Names Of   Her Murdered Husband 
 And Children--She Watched The   High-Road To The   Pincian Gate. 
   
   
   
 There For A Short Time Let Us Leave Her, And Enter The   Tent Of   Alaric, 
 While The   Senate Yet Plead Before The   Arbiter Of   The   Empire For Mercy 
 And Peace. 
   
   
   
 At The   Moment Of   Which We Write, The   Embassy Had Already Exhausted Its 
 Powers Of   Intercession, Apparently Without Moving The   Leader Of   The 
 Goths From His First Pitiless Resolution Of   Fixing The   Ransom Of   Rome 
 At The   Price Of   Every Possession Of   Value Which The   City Contained. 
 There Was A Momentary Silence Now In The   Great Tent.  At One Extremity 
 Of It, Congregated In A Close And Irregular Group, Stood The   Wearied 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 139 
 And Broken-Spirited Members Of   The   Senate, Supported By Such Of   Their 
 Attendants As Had Been Permitted To Follow Them; At The   Other Appeared 
 The Stately Forms Of   Alaric And The   Warriors Who Surrounded Him As His 
 Council Of   War.  The   Vacant Space In The   Middle Of   The   Tent Was Strewn 
 With Martial Weapons, Separating The   Representatives Of   The   Two Nations 
 One From The   Other; And Thus Accidentally, Yet Palpably, Typifying The 
 Fierce Hostility Which Had Sundered In Years Past, And Was Still To 
 Sunder For Years To Come, The   People Of   The   North And The   People Of   The 
 South. 
   
   
   
 The Gothic King Stood A Little In Advance Of   His Warriors, Leaning On 
 His Huge, Heavy Sword.  His Steady Eye Wandered From Man To Man Among 
 The Broken-Spirited Senators, Contemplating, With Cold And Cruel 
 Penetration, All That Suffering And Despair Had Altered For The   Worse 
 In Their Outward Appearance.  Their Soiled Robes, Their Wan Cheeks, 
 Their Trembling Limbs Were Each Marked In Turn By The   Cool, Sarcastic 
 Examination Of   The   Conqueror's Gaze.  Debased And Humiliated As They 
 Were, There Were Some Among The   Ambassadors Who Felt The   Insult Thus 
 Silently And Deliberately Inflicted On Them The   More Keenly For Their 
 Very Helplessness.  They Moved Uneasily In Their Places, And Whispered 
 Among Each Other In Low And Bitter Accents. 
   
   
   
 At Length One Of   Their Number Raised His Downcast Eyes And Broke The 
 Silence.  The   Old Roman Spirit, Which Long Years Of   Voluntary Frivolity 
 And Degradation Had Not Yet Entirely Depraved, Flushed His Pale, Wasted 
 Face As He Spoke Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 'We Have Entreated, We Have Offered, We Have Promised--Men Can Do No 
 More!  Deserted By Our Emperor And Crushed By Pestilence And Famine, 
 Nothing Is Now Left To Us But To Perish In Unavailing Resistance 
 Beneath The   Walls Of   Rome!  It Was In The   Power Of   Alaric To Win 
 Everlasting Renown By Moderation To The   Unfortunate Of   An Illustrious 
 Nation; But He Has Preferred To Attempt The   Spoiling Of   A Glorious City 
 And The   Subjugation Of   A Suffering People!  Yet Let Him Remember, 
 Though Destruction May Sate His Vengeance, And Pillage Enrich His 
 Hoards, The   Day Of   Retribution Will Yet Come.  There Are Still Soldiers 
 In The   Empire, And Heroes Who Will Lead Them Confidently To Battle, 
 Though The   Bodies Of   Their Countrymen Lie Slaughtered Around Them In 
 The Streets Of   Pillaged Rome!' 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 140 
   
 A Momentary Expression Of   Wrath And Indignation Appeared On Alaric's 
 Features As He Listened To This Bold Speech; But It Was Almost 
 Immediately Replaced By A Scornful Smile Of   Derision. 
   
   
   
 'What! Ye Have Still Soldiers Before Whom The   Barbarian Must Tremble 
 For His Conquests!' He Cried. 'Where Are They?  Are They On Their 
 March, Or In Ambush, Or Hiding Behind Strong Walls, Or Have They Lost 
 Their Way On The   Road To The   Gothic Camp?  Ha! Here Is One Of   Them!' He 
 Exclaimed, Advancing Towards An Enfeebled And Disarmed Guard Of   The 
 Senate, Who Quailed Beneath His Fierce Glance. 'Fight, Man!' He Loudly 
 Continued; 'Fight While There Is Yet Time, For Imperial Rome!  Thy 
 Sword Is Gone--Take Mine, And Be A Hero Again!' 
   
   
   
 With A Rough Laugh, Echoed By The   Warriors Behind Him, He Flung His 
 Ponderous Weapon As He Spoke Towards The   Wretched Object Of   His 
 Sarcasm. The   Hilt Struck Heavily Against The   Man's Breast; He Staggered 
 And Fell Helpless To The   Ground.  The   Laugh Was Redoubled Among The 
 Goths; But Now Their Leader Did Not Join In It.  His Eye Glowed In 
 Triumphant Scorn As He Pointed To The   Prostrate Roman, Exclaiming-- 
   
   
   
 'So Does The   South Fall Beneath The   Sword Of   The   North!  So Shall The 
 Empire Bow Before The   Rule Of   The   Goth!  Say, As Ye Look On These 
 Romans Before Us, Are We Not Avenged Of   Our Wrongs?  They Die Not 
 Fighting On Our Swords; They Live To Entreat Our Pity, As Children That 
 Are In Terror Of   The   Whip!' 
   
   
   
   
 He Paused.  His Massive And Noble Countenance Gradually Assumed A 
 Thoughtful Expression.  The   Ambassadors Moved Forward A Few 
 Steps--Perhaps To Make A Final Entreaty, Perhaps To Depart In Despair; 
 But He Signed With His Hand In Command To Them To Be Silent And Remain 
 Where They Stood. The   Marauder's Thirst For Present Plunder, And The 
 Conqueror's Lofty Ambition Of   Future Glory, Now Stirred In Strong 
 Conflict Within Him.  He Walked To The   Opening Of   The   Tent, And 
 Thrusting Aside Its Curtain Of   Skins, Looked Out Upon Rome In Silence. 
 The Dazzling Majesty Of   The   Temples And Palaces Of   The   Mighty City, As 
 They Towered Before Him, Gleaming In The   Rays Of   The   Unclouded 
 Sunlight, Fixed Him Long In Contemplation.  Gradually, Dreams Of   A 
 Future Dominion Amid Those Unrivalled Structures, Which Now Waited But 
 His Word To Be Pillaged And Destroyed, Filled His Aspiring Soul, And 
 Saved The   City From His Wrath.  He Turned Again Toward The   Shrinking 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 141 
 Ambassadors--In A Voice And Look Superior To Them As A Being Of   A 
 Higher Sphere--And Spoke Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 'When The   Gothic Conqueror Reigns In Italy, The   Palaces Of   Her Rulers 
 Shall Be Found Standing For The   Places Of   His Sojourn.  I Will Ordain A 
 Lower Ransom; I Will Spare Rome.' 
   
   
   
 A Murmur Arose Among The   Warriors Behind Him.  The   Rapine And 
 Destruction Which They Had Eagerly Anticipated Was Denied Them For The 
 First Time By Their Chief.  As Their Muttered Remonstrances Caught His 
 Ear, Alaric Instantly And Sternly Fixed His Eyes Upon Them; And, 
 Repeating In Accents Of   Deliberate Command, 'I Will Ordain A Lower 
 Ransom; I Will Spare Rome,' Steadily Scanned The   Countenances Of   His 
 Ferocious Followers. 
   
   
   
 Not A Word Of   Dissent Fell From Their Lips; Not A Gesture Of   Impatience 
 Appeared In Their Ranks; They Preserved Perfect Silence As The   King 
 Again Advanced Towards The   Ambassadors And Continued-- 
   
   
   
 'I Fix The   Ransom Of   The   City At Five Thousand Pounds Of   Gold; At 
 Thirty Thousand Pounds Of   Silver.' 
   
   
   
 Here He Suddenly Ceased, As If Pondering Further On The   Terms He Should 
 Exact.  The   Hearts Of   The   Senate, Lightened For A Moment By Alaric's 
 Unexpected Announcement That He Would Moderate His Demands, Sank Within 
 Them Again As They Thought On The   Tribute Required Of   Them, And 
 Remembered Their Exhausted Treasury.  But It Was No Time Now To 
 Remonstrate Or To Delay; And They Answered With One Accord, Ignorant 
 Though They Were Of   The   Means Of   Performing Their Promise, 'The Ransom 
 Shall Be Paid.' 
   
   
   
 The King Looked At Them When They Spoke, As If In Astonishment That Men 
 Whom He Had Deprived Of   All Freedom Of   Choice Ventured Still To Assert 
 It By Intimating Their Acceptance Of   Terms Which They Dared Not 
 Decline. The   Mocking Spirit Revived Within Him While He Thus Gazed On 
 The Helpless And Humiliated Embassy; And He Laughed Once More As He 
 Resumed, Partly Addressing Himself To The   Silent Array Of   The   Warriors 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 142 
 Behind Him-- 
   
   
   
 'The Gold And Silver Are But The   First Dues Of   The   Tribute; My Army 
 Shall Be Rewarded With More Than The   Wealth Of   The   Enemy.  You Men Of 
 Rome Have Laughed At Our Rough Bearskins And Our Heavy Armour, You 
 Shall Clothe Us With Your Robes Of   Festivity!  I Will Add To The   Gold 
 And Silver Of   Your Ransom, Four Thousand Garments Of   Silk, And Three 
 Thousand Pieces Of   Scarlet Cloth.  My Barbarians Shall Be Barbarians No 
 Longer!  I Will Make Patricians, Epicures, Romans Of   Them!' 
   
   
   
 The Members Of   The   Ill-Fated Embassy Looked Up As He Paused, In Mute 
 Appeal To The   Mercy Of   The   Triumphant Conqueror; But They Were Not Yet 
 To Be Released From The   Crushing Infliction Of   His Rapacity And Scorn. 
   
   
   
 'Hold!' He Cried, 'I Will Have More--More Still!  You Are A Nation Of 
 Feasters;--We Will Rival You In Your Banquets When We Have Stripped You 
 Of Your Banqueting Robes!  To The   Gold, The   Silver, The   Silk, And The 
 Cloth, I Will Add Yet More--Three Thousand Pounds Weight Of   Pepper, 
 Your Precious Merchandise, Bought From Far Countries With Your Lavish 
 Wealth!--See That You Bring It Hither, With The   Rest Of   The   Ransom, To 
 The Last Grain!  The   Flesh Of   Our Beasts Shall Be Seasoned For Us Like 
 The Flesh Of   Yours!' 
   
   
   
 He Turned Abruptly From The   Senators As He Pronounced The   Last Words, 
 And Began To Speak In Jesting Tones And In The   Gothic Language To The 
 Council Of   Warriors Around Him.  Some Of   The   Ambassadors Bowed Their 
 Heads In Silent Resignation; Others, With The   Utter Thoughtlessness Of 
 Men Bewildered By All That They Had Seen And Heard During The   Interview 
 That Was Now Close, Unhappily Revived The   Recollection Of   The   Broken 
 Treaties Of   Former Days, By Mechanically Inquiring, In The   Terms Of 
 Past Formularies, What Security The   Besiegers Would Require For The 
 Payment Of   Their Demands. 
   
   
   
   
 'Security!' Cried Alaric Fiercely, Instantly Relapsing As They Spoke 
 Into His Sterner Mood.  'Behold Yonder The   Future Security Of   The   Goths 
 For The   Faith Of   Rome!' And Flinging Aside The   Curtain Of   The   Tent, He 
 Pointed Proudly To The   Long Lines Of   His Camp, Stretching Round All 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 143 
 That Was Visible Of   The   Walls Of   The   Fallen City. 
   
   
   
 The Ambassadors Remembered The   Massacre Of   The   Hostages Of   Aquileia, 
 And The   Evasion Of   The   Payment Of   Tribute-Money Promised In Former 
 Days, And Were Silent As They Looked Through The   Opening Of   The   Tent. 
   
   
   
 'Remember The   Conditions Of   The   Ransom,' Pursued Alaric In Warning 
 Tones, 'Remember My Security That The   Ransom Shall Be Quickly Paid!  So 
 Shall You Live For A Brief Space In Security, And Feast And Be Merry 
 Again While Your Territories Yet Remain To You.  Go!  I Have Spoken--It 
 Is Enough!' 
   
   
   
 He Withdrew Abruptly From The   Senators, And The   Curtain Of   The   Tent 
 Fell Behind Them As They Passed Out.  The   Ordeal Of   The   Judgment Was 
 Over; The   Final Sentence Had Been Pronounced; The   Time Had Already 
 Arrived To Go Forth And Obey It. 
   
   
   
 The News That Terms Of   Peace Had Been At Last Settled Filled The   Romans 
 Who Were Waiting Before The   Tent With Emotions Of   Delight, Equally 
 Unalloyed By Reflections On The   Past Or Forebodings For The   Future. 
 Barred From Their Reckless Project Of   Flying To The   Open Country By The 
 Goths Surrounding Them In The   Camp, Shut Out From Retreating To Rome By 
 The Gates Through Which They Had Rashly Forced Their Way, Exposed In 
 Their Helplessness To The   Brutal Jeers Of   The   Enemy While They Waited 
 In A Long Agony Of   Suspense For The   Close Of   The   Perilous Interview 
 Between Alaric And The   Senate, They Had Undergone Every Extremity Of 
 Suffering, And Had Yielded Unanimously To Despair When The   Intelligence 
 Of The   Concluded Treaty Sounded Like A Promise Of   Salvation In Their 
 Ears. 
   
   
   
 None Of   The   Apprehensions Aroused In The   Minds Of   Their Superiors By 
 The Vastness Of   The   Exacted Tribute Now Mingled With The   Unreflecting 
 Ecstasy Of   Their Joy At The   Prospect Of   The   Removal Of   The   Blockade. 
 They Arose To Return To The   City From Which They Had Fled In Dismay, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 144 
 With Cries Of   Impatience And Delight.  They Fawned Like Dogs Upon The 
 Ambassadors, And Even Upon The   Ferocious Goths.  On Their Departure 
 From Rome They Had Mechanically Preserved Some Regularity In Their 
 Progress, But Now They Hurried Onward Without Distinction Of   Place Or 
 Discipline Of   March--Senators, Guards, Plebeians, All Were Huddled 
 Together In The   Disorderly Equality Of   A Mob. 
   
   
   
 Not One Of   Them, In Their New-Born Security, Marked The   Ruined Building 
 On The   High-Road; Not One Of   Them Observed The   Closely-Robed Figure 
 That Stole Out From It To Join Them In Their Rear; And Then, With 
 Stealthy Footstep And Shrouded Face, Soon Mingled In The   Thickest Of 
 Their Ranks. The   Attention Of   The   Ambassadors Was Still Engrossed By 
 Their Forebodings Of   Failure In Collecting The   Ransom; The   Eyes Of   The 
 People Were Fixed Only On The   Pincian Gate; Their Ears Were Open To No 
 Sounds But Their Own Ejaculations Of   Delight.  Not One Disguised 
 Stranger Only, But Many, Might Now Have Joined Them In Their Tumultuous 
 Progress, Alike Unquestioned And Unobserved. 
   
   
   
 So They Hastily Re-Entered The   City, Where Thousands Of   Heavy Eyes Were 
 Strained To Look On Them, And Thousands Of   Attentive Ears Drank In 
 Their Joyful News From The   Gothic Camp.  Then Were Heard In All 
 Directions The   Sounds Of   Hysterical Weeping And Idiotic Laughter, The 
 Low Groans Of   The   Weak Who Died Victims Of   Their Sudden Transport, And 
 The Confused Outbursts Of   The   Strong Who Had Survived All Extremities, 
 And At Last Beheld Their Deliverance In View. 
   
   
   
 Still Silent And Serious, The   Ambassadors Now Slowly Penetrated The 
 Throng On Their Way Back To The   Forum; And As They Proceeded The   Crowd 
 Gradually Dispersed On Either Side Of   Them.  Enemies, Friends, And 
 Strangers, All Whom The   Ruthless Famine Had Hitherto Separated In 
 Interests And Sympathies, Were Now United Together As One Family, By 
 The Expectation Of   Speedy Relief. 
   
   
   
   
 But There Was One Among The   Assembly That Was Now Separating Who Stood 
 Alone In Her Unrevealed Emotions, Amid The   Rejoicing Thousands Around 
 Her.  The   Women And Children In The   Throng, As, Preoccupied By Their 
 Own Feeling, They Unheedfully Passed Her By, Saw Not The   Eager, 
 Ferocious Attention In Her Eyes, As She Watched Them Steadily Till They 
 Were Out Of   Sight.  Within Their Gates The   Stranger And The   Enemy 
 Waited For The   Treacherous Darkness Of   Night, And Waited Unobserved. 
 Where She Had First Stood When The   Thick Crowd Hemmed Her In, There She 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 145 
 Still Continued To Stand After They Slowly Moved Past Her And Space 
 Grew Free. 
   
   
   
 Yet Beneath This Outward Calm And Silence Lurked The   Wildest Passions 
 That Ever Raged Against The   Weak Restraint Of   Human Will; Even The   Firm 
 Self-Possession Of   Goisvintha Was Shaken When She Found Herself Within 
 The Walls Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 No Glance Of   Suspicion Had Been Cast Upon Her; Not One Of   The   Crowd Had 
 Approached To Thrust Her Back When She Passed Through The   Gates With 
 The Heedless Citizens Around Her.  Shielded From Detection, As Much By 
 The Careless Security Of   Her Enemies As By The   Stratagem Of   Her 
 Disguise, She Stood On The   Pavement Of   Rome, As She Had Vowed To Stand, 
 Afar From The   Armies Of   Her People--Alone As An Avenger Of   Blood! 
   
   
   
 It Was No Dream; No Fleeting, Deceitful Vision.  The   Knife Was Under 
 Her Hand; The   Streets Stretched Before Her; The   Living Beings Who 
 Thronged Them Were Romans; The   Hours Of   The   Day Were Already On The 
 Wane; The   Approach Of   Her Vengeance Was As Sure As The   Approach Of 
 Darkness That Was To Let It Loose.  A Wild Exultation Quickened In Her 
 The Pulses Of   Life, While She Thought On The   Dread Projects Of   Secret 
 Assassination And Revenge Which Now Opposed Her, A Solitary Woman, In 
 Deadly Enmity Against The   Defenceless Population Of   A Whole City. 
   
   
   
 As Her Eyes Travelled Slowly From Side To Side Over The   Moving Throng; 
 As She Thought On The   Time That Might Still Elapse Ere The   Discovery 
 And Death--The Martyrdom In The   Cause Of   Blood--Which She Expected And 
 Defied, Would Overtake Her, Her Hands Trembled Beneath Her Robe, And 
 She Reiterated In Whispers To Herself:  'Husband, Children, 
 Brother--There Are Five Deaths To Avenge!  Remember Aquileia!  Remember 
 Aquileia!' 
   
   
   
 Suddenly, As She Looked From Group To Group Among The   Departing People, 
 Her Eyes Became Arrested By One Object; She Instantly Stepped Forwards, 
 Then Abruptly Restrained Herself And Moved Back Where The   Crowd Was 
 Still Thick, Gazing Fixedly Ever In The   Same Direction.  She Saw The 
 Victim Twice Snatched From Her Hands--At The   Camp And In The 
 Farm-House--A Third Time Offered To Her Grasp In The   Streets Of   Rome. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 146 
   
 The Chance Of   Vengeance Last Expected Was The   Chance That Had First 
 Arrived.  A Vague, Oppressing Sensation Of   Awe Mingled With The   Triumph 
 At Her Heart--A Supernatural Guidance Seemed To Be Directing Her With 
 Fell Rapidity, Through Every Mortal Obstacle, To The   Climax Of   Her 
 Revenge! 
   
   
   
 She Screened Herself Behind The   People; She Watched The   Girl From The 
 Most Distant Point; But Concealment Was Now Vain--Their Eyes Had Met. 
 The Robe Had Slipped Aside When She Suddenly Stepped Forward, And In 
 That Moment Antonina Had Seen Her. 
   
   
   
 Numerian, Moving Slowly With His Daughter Through The   Crowd, Felt Her 
 Hand Tighten Round His, And Saw Her Features Stiffen Into Sudden 
 Rigidity; But The   Change Was Only For An Instant.  Ere He Could Speak, 
 She Caught Him By The   Arm, And Drew Him Forward With Convulsive Energy. 
 Then, In Accents Hardly Articulate, Low, Breathless, Unlike Her Wonted 
 Voice, He Heard Her Exclaim, As She Struggled On With Him, 'She Is 
 There--There Behind Us! To Kill Me, As She Killed Him!  Home! Home!' 
   
   
   
 Exhausted Already, Through Long Weakness And Natural Infirmity, By The 
 Rough Contact Of   The   Crowd, Bewildered By Antonina's Looks And Actions, 
 And By The   Startling Intimation Of   Unknown Peril, Conveyed To Him In 
 Her Broken Exclamations Of   Affright, Numerian's First Impulse, As He 
 Hurried Onward By Her Side, Led Him To Entreat Protection And Help From 
 The Surrounding Populace.  But Even Could He Have Pointed Out To Them 
 The Object Of   His Dread Amid That Motley Throng Of   All Nations, The 
 Appeal He Now Made Would Have Remained Unanswered. 
   
   
   
   
 Of All The   Results Of   The   Frightful Severity Of   Privation Suffered By 
 The Besieged, None Were More Common Than Those Mental Aberrations Which 
 Produced Visions Of   Danger, Enemies, And Death, So Palpable As To Make 
 The Persons Beholding Them Implore Assistance Against The   Hideous 
 Creation Of   Their Own Delirium.  Accordingly, Most Of   Those To Whom The 
 Entreaties Of   Numerian Were Addressed Passed Without Noticing Them. 
 Some Few Carelessly Bid Him Remember That There Were No Enemies Now; 
 That The   Days Of   Peace Were Approaching; And That A Meal Of   Good Food, 
 Which He Might Soon Expect To Enjoy, Was The   Only Help For A Famished 
 Man.  No One, In That Period Of   Horror And Suffering, Which Was Now 
 Drawing To A Close, Saw Anything Extraordinary In The   Confusion Of   The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 147 
 Father And The   Terror Of   The   Child.  So They Pursued Their Feeble 
 Flight Unprotected, And The   Footsteps Of   Goisvintha Followed Them As 
 They Went. 
   
   
   
 They Had Already Commenced The   Ascent Of   The   Pincian Hill, When 
 Antonina Stopped Abruptly, And Turned To Look Behind Her.  Many People 
 Yet Thronged The   Street Below; But Her Eyes Penetrated Among Them, 
 Sharpened By Peril, And Instantly Discerned The   Ample Robe And The   Tall 
 Form, Still At The   Same Distance From Them, And Pausing As They Had 
 Paused. For One Moment, The   Girl's Eyes Fixed In The   Wild, Helpless 
 Stare Of   Terror On Her Father's Face; But The   Next, That Mysterious 
 Instinct Of   Preservation, Which Is Co-Existent With The   Instinct Of 
 Fear--Which Gifts The   Weakest Animal With Cunning To Improve Its 
 Flight, And Takes The   Place Of   Reason, Reflection, And Resolve, When 
 All Are Banished From The   Mind--Warned Her Against The   Fatal Error Of 
 Permitting The   Pursuer To Track Her To Her Home. 
   
   
   
 'Not There! Not There!' She Gasped Faintly As Numerian Endeavoured To 
 Lead Her Up The   Ascent.  'She Will See Us As We Enter The 
 Doors!--Through The   Streets!  Oh, Father, If You Would Save Me! We May 
 Lose Her In The   Streets!--The Guards, The   People Are There!  Back! 
 Back!' 
   
   
   
 Numerian Trembled As He Marked The   Terror In Her Looks And Gestures; 
 But It Was Vain To Question Or Oppose Her.  Nothing Short Of   Force 
 Could Restrain Her,--No Commands Or Entreaties Could Draw From Her More 
 Than The   Same Breathless Exclamation:  'Onward, Father; Onward, If You 
 Would Save Me!'  She Was Insensible To Every Sensation But Fear, 
 Incapable Of   Any Other Exertion Than Flight. 
   
   
   
 Turning And Winding, Hurrying Forward Ever At The   Same Rapid Pace, They 
 Passed Unconsciously Along The   Intricate Streets That Led To The   River 
 Side; And Still The   Avenger Tracked The   Victim, Constant As The   Shadow 
 To The   Substance; Steady, Vigilant, Unwearied, As A Bloodhound On A Hot 
 Scent. 
   
   
   
 And Now, Even The   Sound Of   The   Father's Voice Ceased To Be Audible In 
 The Daughter's Ears; She No Longer Felt The   Pressure Of   His Hand, No 
 Longer Perceived His Very Presence At Her Side.  At Length, Frail And 
 Shrinking, She Again Paused, And Looked Back.  The   Street They Had 
 Reached Was Very Tranquil And Desolate:  Two Slaves Were Walking At Its 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 148 
 Further Extremity.  While They Were In Sight, No Living Creature 
 Appeared In The   Roadway Behind; But As Soon As They Had Passed Away, A 
 Shadow Stole Slowly Forward Over The   Pavement Of   A Portico In The 
 Distance, And The   Next Moment Goisvintha Appeared In The   Street. 
   
   
   
 The Sun Glared Down Fiercely Over Her Dark Figure As She Stopped And 
 For An Instant Looked Stealthily Around Her.  She Moved To Advance, And 
 Antonina Saw No More.  Again She Turned To Renew Her Hopeless Flight; 
 And Again Her Father--Perceiving Only As The   Mysterious Cause Of   Her 
 Dread A Solitary Woman, Who, Though She Followed, Attempted Not To 
 Arrest, Or Even To Address Them--Prepared To Accompany Her To The   Last, 
 In Despair Of   All Other Chances Of   Securing Her Safety. 
   
   
   
 More And More Completely Did Her Terror Now Enchain Her Faculties, As 
 She Still Unconsciously Traced Her Rapid Way Through The   Streets That 
 Led To The   Tiber.  It Was Not Numerian, Not Rome, Not Daylight In A 
 Great City, That Was Before Her Eyes:  It Was The   Storm, The 
 Assassination, The   Night At The   Farm-House, That She Now Lived Through 
 Over Again. 
   
   
   
   
 Still The   Quick Flight And The   Ceaseless Pursuit Were Continued, As If 
 Neither Were Ever To Have An End; But The   Close Of   The   Scene Was, 
 Nevertheless, Already At Hand.  During The   Interval Of   The   Passage 
 Through The   Streets, Numerian's Mind Had Gradually Recovered From Its 
 First Astonishment And Alarm; At Length He Perceived The   Necessity Of 
 Instant And Decisive Action, While There Was Yet Time To Save Antonina 
 From Sinking Under The   Excess Of   Her Own Fears.  Though A Vague, Awful 
 Foreboding Of   Disaster And Death Filled His Heart, His Resolution To 
 Penetrate At Once, At All Hazards, The   Dark Mystery Of   Impending Danger 
 Indicated By His Daughter's Words And Actions, Did Not Fail Him; For It 
 Was Aroused By The   Only Motive Powerful Enough To Revive All That 
 Suffering And Infirmity Had Not Yet Destroyed Of   The   Energy Of   His 
 Former Days--The Preservation Of   His Child.  There Was Something Of   The 
 Old Firmness And Vigour Of   The   Intrepid Reformer Of   The   Church, In His 
 Dim Eyes, As He Now Stopped, And Enclosing Antonina In His Arms, 
 Arrested Her Instantly In Her Flight. 
   
   
   
 She Struggled To Escape; But It Was Faintly, And Only For A Moment. 
 Her Strength And Consciousness Were Beginning To Abandon Her.  She 
 Never Attempted To Look Back; She Felt In Her Heart That Goisvintha Was 
 Still Behind, And Dared Not To Verify The   Frightful Conviction With Her 
 Eyes. Her Lips Moved; But They Expressed An Altered And A Vain 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 149 
 Petition: 'Hermanric!  O Hermanric!' Was All They Murmured Now. 
   
   
   
 They Had Arrived At The   Long Street That Ran By The   Banks Of   The   Tiber. 
 The People Had Either Retired To Their Homes Or Repaired To The   Forum 
 To Be Informed Of   The   Period When The   Ransom Would Be Paid.  No One But 
 Goisvintha Was In Sight As Numerian Looked Around Him; And She, After 
 Having Carefully Viewed The   Empty Street, Was Advancing Towards Them At 
 A Quickened Pace. 
   
   
   
 For An Instant The   Father Looked On Her Steadily As She Approached, And 
 In That Instant His Determination Was Formed.  A Flight Of   Steps At His 
 Feet Led To The   Narrow Doorway Of   A Small Temple, The   Nearest Building 
 To Him. 
   
   
   
 Ignorant Whether Goisvintha Might Not Be Secretly Supported By 
 Companions In Her Ceaseless Pursuit, He Resolved To Secure This Place 
 For Antonina, As A Temporary Refuge At Least; While Standing Before It, 
 He Should Oblige The   Woman To Declare Her Purpose, If She Followed Them 
 Even There.  In A Moment He Had Begun The   Ascent Of   The   Steps, With The 
 Exhausted Girl By His Side.  Arrived At The   Summit, He Guided Her 
 Before Him Into The   Doorway, And Stopped On The   Threshold To Look Round 
 Again. Goisvintha Was Nowhere To Be Seen. 
   
   
   
 Not Duped By The   Woman's Sudden Disappearance Into The   Belief That She 
 Had Departed From The   Street--Persisting In His Resolution To Lead His 
 Daughter To A Place Of   Repose, Where She Might Most Immediately Feel 
 Herself Secure, And Might Therefore Most Readily Recover Her 
 Self-Possession, Numerian Drew Antonina With Him Into The   Temple.  He 
 Lingered There For A Moment, Ere He Departed To Watch The   Street From 
 The Portico Outside. 
   
   
   
 The Light In The   Building Was Dim,--It Was Admitted Only From A Small 
 Aperture In The   Roof, And Through The   Narrow Doorway, Where It Was 
 Intercepted By The   Overhanging Bulk Of   The   Outer Portico. A Crooked 
 Pile Of   Dark Heavy-Looking Substances On The   Floor, Rose High Towards 
 The Ceiling In The   Obscure Interior.  Irregular In Form, Flung Together 
 One Over The   Other In Strange Disorder, For The   Most Part Dusky In Hue, 
 Yet Here And There Gleaming At Points With A Metallic Brightness, These 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 24 ( The Grave And The Camp ) Pg 150 
 Objects Presented A Mysterious, Indefinite, And Startling Appearance. 
 It Was Impossible, On A First View Of   Their Confused Arrangement, To 
 Discover What They Were, Or To Guess For What Purpose They Could Have 
 Been Pile Together On The   Floor Of   A Deserted Temple.  From The   Moment 
 When They Had First Attracted Numerian's Observation, His Attention Was 
 Fixed On Them, And As He Looked A Faint Thrill Of   Suspicion--Vague, 
 Inexplicable, Without Apparent Cause Or Object--Struck Chill To His 
 Heart. 
   
   
   
   
 He Had Moved A Step Forward To Examine The   Hidden Space At The   Back Of 
 The Pile, When His Further Advance Was Instantly Stopped By The 
 Appearance Of   A Man Who Walked Forth From It Dressed In The   Floating, 
 Purple-Edged Robe And White Fillet Of   The   Pagan Priests.  Before Either 
 Father Or Daughter Could Speak, Even Before They Could Move To Depart, 
 He Stepped Up To Them, And, Placing His Hand On The   Shoulder Of   Each, 
 Confronted Them In Silence. 
   
   
   
 At The   Moment When The   Stranger Approached, Numerian Raised His Hand To 
 Thrust Him Back, And, In So Doing, Fixed His Eyes On The   Man's 
 Countenance, As A Ray Of   Light From The   Doorway Floated Over It. 
 Instantly His Arm Remained Outstretched And Rigid, Then It Dropped To 
 His Side, And The   Expression Of   Horror On The   Face Of   The   Child Became 
 Reflected, As It Were, On The   Face Of   The   Parent.  Neither Moved Under 
 The Hand Of   The   Dweller In The   Temple When He Laid It Heavily On Each, 
 And Both Stood Before Him Speechless As Himself. 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 151 
 It Was Ulpius.  The   Pagan Was Changed In Bearing And Countenance As 
 Well As In Apparel.  He Stood More Firm And Upright; A Dull, Tawny Hue 
 Overspread His Face; His Eyes, So Sunken And Lustreless In Other Days, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 152 
 Were Now Distended And Bright With The   Glare Of   Insanity.  It Seemed As 
 If His Bodily Powers Had Renewed Their Vigour, While His Mental 
 Faculties Had Declined Towards Their Ruin. 
   
   
   
 No Human Eye Had Ever Beheld By What Foul And Secret Means He Had 
 Survived Through The   Famine, On What Unnatural Sustenance He Had 
 Satisfied The   Cravings Of   Inexorable Hunger; But There, In His Gloomy 
 Shelter, The   Madman And The   Outcast Had Lived And Moved, And Suddenly 
 And Strangely Strengthened, After The   People Of   The   City Had Exhausted 
 All Their United Responses, Lavished In Vain All Their United Wealth, 
 And Drooped And Died By Thousands Around Him! 
   
   
   
 His Grasp Still Lay Heavy On The   Father And Daughter, And Still Both 
 Confronted Him--Silent, As If Death-Struck By His Gaze; Motionless, As 
 If Frozen At His Touch.  His Presence Was Exerting Over Them A Fatal 
 Fascination.  The   Power Of   Action, Suspended In Antonina As She Entered 
 Their Ill-Chosen Refuge, Was Now Arrested In Numerian Also; But With 
 Him No Thought Of   The   Enemy In The   Street Had Any Part, At This Moment, 
 In The   Resistless Influence Which Held Him Helpless Before The   Enemy In 
 The Temple. 
   
   
   
 It Was A Feeling Of   Deeper Awe And Darker Horror.  For Now, As He 
 Looked Upon The   Hideous Features Of   Ulpius, As He Saw The   Forbidden 
 Robe Of   Priesthood In Which The   Pagan Was Arrayed, He Beheld Not Only 
 The Traitor Who Had Successfully Plotted Against The   Prosperity Of   His 
 Household, But The   Madman As Well,--The Moral Leper Of   The   Whole Human 
 Family--The Living Body And The   Dead Soul--The Disinherited Of   That 
 Divine Light Of   Life Which It Is The   Awful Privilege Of   Mortal Man To 
 Share With The   Angels Of   God. 
   
   
   
 He Still Clasped Antonina To His Side, But It Was Unconsciously.  To 
 All Outward Appearance He Was Helpless As His Helpless Child, When 
 Ulpius Slowly Removed His Grasp From Their Shoulders, Separated Them, 
 And Locking The   Hand Of   Each In His Cold, Bony Fingers, Began To Speak. 
   
   
   
 His Voice Was Deep And Solemn, But His Accents, In Their Hard, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 153 
 Unvarying Tone, Seemed To Express No Human Emotion.  His Eyes, Far From 
 Brightening As He Spoke, Relapsed Into A Dull, Vacant Insensibility. 
 The Connection Between The   Action Of   Speech And The   Accompanying And 
 Explaining Action Of   Look Which Is Observable In All Men, Seemed Lost 
 In Him.  It Was Fearful To Behold The   Death-Like Face, And To Listen At 
 The Same Moment To The   Living Voice. 
   
   
   
 'Lo! The   Votaries Come To The   Temple!' Murmured The   Pagan.  'The Good 
 Servants Of   The   Mighty Worship Gather At The   Voice Of   The   Priest!  In 
 The Far Provinces, Where The   Enemies Of   The   Gods Approach To Profane 
 The Sacred Groves, Behold The   Scattered People Congregating By Night To 
 Journey To The   Shrine Of   Serapis!  Adoring Thousands Kneel Beneath The 
 Lofty Porticoes, While Within, In The   Secret Hall Where The   Light Is 
 Dim, Where The   Air Quivers Round The   Breathing Deities On Their 
 Pedestals Of   Gold, The   High Priest Ulpius Reads The   Destinies Of   The 
 Future, That Are Unrolled Before His Eyes Like A Book!' 
   
   
   
   
 As He Ceased, And, Still Holding The   Hands Of   His Captives, Looked On 
 Them Fixedly As Ever, His Eyes Brightened And Dilated Again; But They 
 Expressed Not The   Slightest Recognition Either Of   Father Or Daughter. 
 The Delirium Of   His Imagination Had Transported Him To The   Temple At 
 Alexandria; The   Days Were Revived When His Glory Had Risen To Its 
 Culminating Point, When The   Christians Trembled Before Him As Their 
 Fiercest Enemy, And The   Pagans Surrounded Him As Their Last Hope.  The 
 Victims Of   His Former And Forgotten Treachery Were But As Two Among The 
 Throng Of   Votaries Allured By The   Fame Of   His Eloquence, By The 
 Triumphant Notoriety Of   His Power To Protect The   Adherents Of   The 
 Ancient Creed. 
   
   
   
 But It Was Not Always Thus That His Madness Declared Itself:  There 
 Were Moments When It Rose To Appalling Frenzy.  Then He Imagined 
 Himself To Be Again Hurling The   Christian Assailants From The   Topmost 
 Walls Of   The   Besieged Temple, In That Past Time When The   Image Of 
 Serapis Was Doomed By The   Bishop Of   Alexandria To Be Destroyed.  His 
 Yells Of   Fury, His Frantic Execrations Of   Defiance Were Heard Afar, In 
 The Solemn Silence Of   Pestilence-Stricken Rome.  Those Who, During The 
 Most Fatal Days Of   The   Gothic Blockade, Dropped Famished On The 
 Pavement Before The   Little Temple, As They Endeavoured To Pass It On 
 Their Onward Way, Presented A Dread Reality Of   Death, To Embody The 
 Madman's Visions Of   Battle And Slaughter.  As These Victims Of   Famine 
 Lay Expiring In The   Street, They Heard Above Them His Raving Voice 
 Cursing Them For Christians, Triumphing Over Them As Defeated Enemies 
 Destroyed By His Hand, Exhorting His Imaginary Adherents To Fling The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 154 
 Slain Above On The   Dead Below, Until The   Bodies Of   The   Besiegers Of   The 
 Temple Were Piled, As Barriers Against Their Living Comrades, Round Its 
 Walls.  Sometimes His Frenzy Gloried In The   Fancied Revival Of   The   Foul 
 And Sanguinary Ceremonies Of   Pagan Superstition.  Then He Bared His 
 Arms, And Shouted Aloud For The   Sacrifice; He Committed Dark And 
 Nameless Atrocities--For Now Again The   Dead And The   Dying Lay Before 
 Him, To Give Substance To The   Shadow Of   His Evil Thoughts; And Plague 
 And Hunger Were As Creatures Of   His Will, And Slew The   Victim For The 
 Altar Ready To His Hands. 
   
   
   
 At Other Times, When The   Raving Fit Had Passed Away, And He Lay Panting 
 In The   Darkest Corner Of   The   Interior Of   The   Temple, His Insanity 
 Assumed Another And A Mournful Form.  His Voice Grew Low And Moaning; 
 The Wreck Of   His Memory--Wandering And Uncontrollable--Floated Back, 
 Far Back, On The   Dark Waters Of   The   Past; And His Tongue Uttered 
 Fragments Of   Words And Phrases That He Had Murmured At His Father's 
 Knees--Farewell, Childish Wishes That He Had Breathed In His Mother's 
 Ear--Innocent, Anxious Questions Which He Had Addressed To Macrinus, 
 The High Priest, When He First Entered The   Service Of   The   Gods At 
 Alexandria. His Boyish Reveries--The Gentleness Of   Speech And Poetry Of 
 Thought Of   His First Youthful Days, Were Now, By The   Unsearchable And 
 Arbitrary Influences Of   His Disease, Revived In His Broken Words, 
 Renewed In His Desolate Old Age Of   Madness And Crime, Breathed Out In 
 Unconscious Mockery By His Lips, While The   Foam Still Gathered About 
 Them, And The   Last Flashes Of   Frenzy Yet Lightened In His Eyes. 
   
   
   
 This Unnatural Calmness Of   Language And Vividness Of   Memory, This 
 Treacherous Appearance Of   Thoughtful, Melancholy Self-Possession, Would 
 Often Continue Through Long Periods, Uninterrupted; But, Sooner Or 
 Later, The   Sudden Change Came; The   Deceitful Chain Of   Thought Snapped 
 Asunder In An Instant; The   Word Was Left Half Uttered; The   Wearied 
 Limbs Started Convulsively Into Renewed Action; And As The   Dream Of 
 Violence Returned And The   Dream Of   Peace Vanished, The   Madman Rioted 
 Afresh In His Fury; And Journeyed As His Visions Led Him, Round And 
 Round His Temple Sanctuary, And Hither And Thither, When The   Night Was 
 Dark And Death Was Busiest In Rome, Among The   Expiring In Deserted 
 Houses, And The   Lifeless In The   Silent Streets. 
   
   
   
   
 But There Were Other Later Events In His Existence That Never Revived 
 Within Him.  The   Old Familiar Image Of   The   Idol Serapis, Which Had 
 Drawn Him Into The   Temple When He Re-Entered Rome, Absorbed In Itself 
 And In Its Associated Remembrances All That Remained Active Of   His 
 Paralysed Faculties.  His Betrayal Of   His Trust In The   House Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 155 
 Numerian, His Passage Through The   Rifted Wall, His Crushing Repulse In 
 The Tent Of   Alaric, Never For A Moment Occupied His Wandering Thoughts. 
 The Clouds That Hung Over His Mind Might Open To Him Parting Glimpses 
 Of The   Toils And Triumphs Of   His Early Career; But They Descended In 
 Impenetrable Darkness On All The   After-Days Of   His Dreary Life. 
   
   
   
 Such Was The   Being To Whose Will, By A Mysterious Fatality, The   Father 
 And Child Were Now Submitted; Such The   Existence--Solitary, Hopeless, 
 Loathsome--Of Their Stern And Wily Betrayer Of   Other Days! 
   
   
   
 Since He Had Ceased Speaking, The   Cold, Death-Like Grasp Of   His Hand 
 Had Gradually Strengthened, And He Had Begun To Look Slowly And 
 Inquiringly Round Him From Side To Side.  Had This Change Marked The 
 Approaching Return Of   His Raving Paroxysm, The   Lives Of   Numerian And 
 Antonina Would Have Been Sacrificed The   Next Moment; But All That It 
 Now Denoted Was The   Quickening Of   The   Lofty And Obscure Ideas Of 
 Celebrity And Success, Of   Priestly Honour And Influence, Of   The 
 Splendour And Glory Of   The   Gods, Which Had Prompted His Last Words. 
   
   
   
 He Moved Suddenly, And Drew The   Victims Of   His Dangerous Caprice A Few 
 Steps Farther Into The   Interior Of   The   Temple; Then Led Them Close Up 
 To The   Lofty Pile Of   Objects Which Had First Attracted Numerian's Eyes 
 On Entering The   Building.  'Kneel And Adore!' Cried The   Madman 
 Fiercely, Replacing His Hands On Their Shoulders And Pressing Them To 
 The Ground--'You Stand Before The   Gods, In The   Presence Of   Their High 
 Priest!' 
   
   
   
 The Girl's Head Sank Forward, And She Hid Her Face In Her Hands; But 
 Her Father Looked Up Tremblingly At The   Pile.  His Eyes Had Insensibly 
 Become More Accustomed To The   Dim Light Of   The   Temple, And He Now Saw 
 More Distinctly The   Objects Composing The   Mass That Rose Above Him. 
   
   
   
 Hundreds Of   Images Of   The   Gods, In Gold, Silver, And Wood--Many In The 
 Latter Material Being Larger Than Life; Canopies, Vestments, Furniture, 
 Utensils, All Of   Ancient Pagan Form, Were Heaped Together, Without 
 Order Or Arrangement, On The   Floor, To A Height Of   Full Fifteen Feet. 
   
   
   
 There Was Something At Once Hideous And Grotesque In The   Appearance Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 156 
 The Pile.  The   Monstrous Figures Of   The   Idols, With Their Rude Carved 
 Draperies And Symbolic Weapons, Lay In Every Wild Variety Of   Position, 
 And Presented Every Startling Eccentricity Of   Line, More Especially 
 Towards The   Higher Portions Of   The   Mass, Where They Had Evidently Been 
 Flung Up From The   Ground By The   Hand That Had Raised The   Structure. 
   
   
   
 The Draperies Mixed Among The   Images And The   Furniture Were Here Coiled 
 Serpent-Like Around Them, And There Hung Down Towards The   Ground, 
 Waving Slow And Solemn In The   Breezes That Wound Through The   Temple 
 Doorway. The   Smaller Objects Of   Gold And Silver, Scattered Irregularly 
 Over The   Mass, Shone Out From It Like Gleaming Eyes; While The   Pile 
 Itself, Seen In Such A Place Under A Dusky Light, Looked Like Some 
 Vast, Misshapen Monster--The Gloomy Embodiment Of   The   Bloodiest 
 Superstitions Of   Paganism, The   Growth Of   Damp Airs And Teeming Ruin, Of 
 Shadow And Darkness, Of   Accursed And Infected Solitude! 
   
   
   
 Even In Its Position, As Well As In The   Objects Of   Which It Was 
 Composed, The   Pile Wore An Ominous And Startling Aspect; Its Crooked 
 Outline, Expanding Towards The   Top, Was Bent Over Fearfully In The 
 Direction Of   The   Doorway; It Seemed As If A Single Hand Might Sway It 
 In Its Uncertain Balance, And Hurl It Instantly In One Solid Mass To 
 The Floor. 
   
   
   
 Many Toilsome Hours Had Passed Away, Long Secret Labour Had Been 
 Expended In The   Erection Of   This Weird And Tottering Structure; But It 
 Was All The   Work Of   One Hand.  Night After Night Had The   Pagan Entered 
 The Deserted Temples In The   Surrounding Streets, And Pillaged Them Of 
 Their Contents To Enrich His Favoured Shrine:  The   Removal Of   The   Idols 
 From Their Appointed Places, Which Would Have Been Sacrilege In Any 
 Meaner Man, Was In His Eyes The   Dread Privilege Of   The   High Priest 
 Alone. 
   
   
   
   
 He Had Borne Heavy Burdens, And Torn Asunder Strong Fastenings, And 
 Journeyed And Journeyed Again For Hours Together Over The   Same Gloomy 
 Streets, Without Loitering In His Task; He Had Raised Treasures And 
 Images One Above Another; He Had Strengthened The   Base And Heightened 
 The Summit Of   This Precious And Sacred Heap;  He Had Repaired And 
 Rebuilt, Whenever It Crumbled And Fell, This New Babel That He Longed 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 157 
 To Rear To The   Olympus Of   The   Temple Roof, With A Resolute Patience And 
 Perseverance That No Failure Or Fatigue Could Overcome. 
   
   
   
 It Was The   Dearest Purpose Of   His Dreamy Superstition To Surround 
 Himself With Innumerable Deities, As Well As To Assemble Innumerable 
 Worshippers; To Make The   Sacred Place Of   His Habitation A Mighty 
 Pantheon, As Well As A Point Of   Juncture For The   Scattered 
 Congregations Of   The   Pagan World.  This Was The   Ambition In Which His 
 Madness Expanded To The   Fiercest Fanaticism; And As He Now Stood Erect 
 With His Captives Beneath Him, His Glaring Eyes Looked Awe-Struck When 
 He Fixed Them On His Idols; He Uplifted His Arms In Solemn, Ecstatic 
 Triumph, And In Low Tones Poured Forth His Invocations, Wild, 
 Intermingled, And Fragmentary, As The   Barbarous Altar Which His 
 Solitary Exertions Had Reared. 
   
   
   
 Whatever Was The   Effect On Numerian Of   His Savage And Confused 
 Ejaculations, They Were Unnoticed, Even Unheard, By Antonina; For Now, 
 While The   Madman's Voice Softened To An Undertone, And While She Hid 
 All Surrounding Objects From Her Eyes, Her Senses Were Awakened To 
 Sounds In The   Temple Which She Had Never Remarked Before. 
   
   
   
 The Rapid Current Of   The   Tiber Washed The   Foundation Walls Of   One Side 
 Of The   Building, Within Which The   Clear, Lulling Bubble Of   The   Water 
 Was Audible With Singular Distinctness.  But Besides This Another And A 
 Shriller Sound Caught The   Ear.  On The   Summit Of   The   Temple Roof Still 
 Remained Several Rows Of   Little Gilt Bells, Originally Placed There, 
 Partly With The   Intention Of   Ornamenting This Portion Of   The   Outer 
 Structure, Partly In Order That The   Noise They Produced, When Agitated 
 By The   Wind, Might Scare Birds From Settling In Their Flight On The 
 Consecrated Edifice.  The   Sounds Produced By These Bells Were Silvery 
 And High Pitched; Now, When The   Breeze Was Strong, They Rang Together 
 Merrily And Continuously; Now, When It Fell, Their Notes Were Faint, 
 Separate, And Irregular, Almost Plaintive In Their Pure Metallic 
 Softness.  But, However Their Tone Might Vary Under The   Capricious 
 Influences Of   The   Wind, It Seemed Always Wonderfully Mingled Within The 
 Temple With The   Low, Eternal Bubbling Of   The   River, Which Filled Up The 
 Slightest Pauses In The   Pleasant Chiming Of   The   Bells, And Ever 
 Preserved Its Gentle And Monotonous Harmony Just Audible Beneath Them. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 158 
 There Was Something In This Quaint, Unwonted Combination Of   Sounds, As 
 They Were Heard In The   Vaulted Interior Of   The   Little Building, 
 Strangely Simple, Attractive, And Spiritual; The   Longer They Were 
 Listened To, The   More Completely Did The   Mind Lose The   Recollection Of 
 Their Real Origin, And Gradually Shape Out Of   Them Wilder And Wilder 
 Fancies, Until The   Bells As They Rang Their Small Peal Seemed Like 
 Happy Voices Of   A Heavenly Stream, Borne Lightly Onward On Its Airy 
 Bubbles, And Ever Rejoicing Over The   Gliding Current That Murmured To 
 Them As It Ran. 
   
   
   
 Spite Of   The   Peril Of   Her Position, And Of   The   Terror Which Still Fixed 
 Her Speechless And Crouching On The   Ground, The   Effect On Antonina Of 
 The Strange Mingled Music Of   The   Running Water And The   Bells Was 
 Powerful Enough, When She First Heard It, To Suspend All Her Other 
 Emotions In A Momentary Wonder And Doubt.  She Withdrew Her Hands From 
 Her Face, And Glanced Round Mechanically To The   Doorway, As If She 
 Imagined That The   Sounds Proceeded From The   Street. 
   
   
   
 When She Looked, The   Declining Sun, Gliding Between Two Of   The   Outer 
 Pillars Which Surrounded The   Temple, Covered With A Bright Glow The 
 Smooth Pavement Before The   Entrance.  A Swarm Of   Insects Flew Drowsily 
 Round And Round In The   Warm Mellow Light; Their Faint Monotonous 
 Humming Deepened, Rather Than Interrupted, The   Perfect Silence 
 Prevailing Over All Things Without. 
   
   
   
   
 But A Change Was Soon Destined To Appear In The   Repose Of   The   Quiet, 
 Vacant Scene; Hardly A Minute Had Elapsed While Antonina Still Looked 
 On It Before She Saw Stealing Over The   Sunny Pavement A Dark Shadow, 
 The Same Shadow That She Had Last Beheld When She Stopped In Her Flight 
 To Look Behind Her In The   Empty Street.  At First It Slowly Grew And 
 Lengthened, Then It Remained Stationary, Then It Receded And Vanished 
 As Gradually As It Had Advanced, And Then The   Girl Heard, Or Fancied 
 That She Heard, A Faint Sound Of   Footsteps, Retiring Along The   Lateral 
 Colonnades Towards The   River Side Of   The   Building. 
   
   
   
 A Low Cry Of   Horror Burst From Her Lips As She Sank Back Towards Her 
 Father; But It Was Unheeded.  The   Voice Of   Ulpius Had Resumed In The 
 Interval Its Hollow Loudness Of   Tone; He Had Raised Numerian From The 
 Ground; His Strong, Cold Grasp, Which Seemed To Penetrate To The   Old 
 Man's Heart, Which Held Him Motionless And Helpless As If By A Fatal 
 Spell, Was On His Arm. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 159 
   
 'Hear It! Hear It!' Cried The   Pagan, Waving His Disengaged Hand As If 
 He Were Addressing A Vast Concourse Of   People--'I Advance This Man To 
 Be One Of   The   Servants Of   The   High Priest!  He Has Travelled From A Far 
 Country To The   Sacred Shrine; He Is Docile And Obedient Before The 
 Altar Of   The   Gods; The   Lot Is Cast For His Future Life; His Dwelling 
 Shall Be In The   Temple To The   Day Of   His Death!  He Shall Minister 
 Before Me In White Robes, And Swing The   Smoking Censer, And Slay The 
 Sacrifice At My Feet!' 
   
   
   
 He Stopped.  A Dark And Sinister Expression Appeared In His Eyes As The 
 Word 'Sacrifice' Passed His Lips; He Muttered Doubtingly To 
 Himself--'The Sacrifice!--Is It Yet The   Hour Of   The   Sacrifice?'--And 
 Looked Round Towards The   Doorway. 
   
   
   
 The Sun Still Shone Gaily On The   Outer Pavement; The   Insects Still 
 Circled Slowly In The   Mellow Light; No Shadow Was Now Visible; No 
 Distant Footsteps Were Heard; There Was Nothing Audible But The   Happy 
 Music Of   The   Bubbling Water, And The   Chiming, Silvery Bells. 
   
   
   
 For A Few Moments The   Madman Looked Out Anxiously Towards The   Street, 
 Without Uttering A Word Or Moving A Muscle.  The   Raving Fit Was Nearly 
 Possessing Him Again, As The   Thought Of   The   Sacrifice Flashed Over His 
 Darkened Mind; But Once More Its Approach Was Delayed. 
   
   
   
 He Slowly Turned His Head In The   Direction Of   The   Interior Of   The 
 Temple.  'The Sun Is Still Bright In The   Outer Courts,' He Murmured In 
 An Undertone, 'The Hour Of   The   Sacrifice Is Not Yet!  Come!' He 
 Continued In A Louder Voice, Shaking Numerian By The   Arm.  'It Is Time 
 That The   Servant Of   The   Temple Should Behold The   Place Of   The 
 Sacrifice, And Sharpen The   Knife For The   Victim Before Sunset!  Arouse 
 Thee, Bondman, And Follow Me!' 
   
   
   
 As Yet, Numerian Had Neither Spoken, Nor Attempted To Escape.  The 
 Preceding Events, Though Some Space Has Been Occupied In Describing 
 Them, Passed In So Short A Period Of   Time, That He Had Not Hitherto 
 Recovered From The   First Overwhelming Shock Of   The   Meeting With Ulpius. 
 But Now, Awed Though He Still Was, He Felt That The   Moment Of   The 
 Struggle For Freedom Had Arrived. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 160 
   
 'Leave Me, And Let Us Depart!--There Can Be No Fellowship Between Us 
 Again!' He Exclaimed With The   Reckless Courage Of   Despair, Taking The 
 Hand Of   Antonina, And Striving To Free Himself From The   Madman's Grasp. 
 But The   Effort Was Vain; Ulpius Tightened His Hold And Laughed In 
 Triumph.  'What! The   Servant Of   The   Temple Is In Terror Of   The   High 
 Priest, And Shrinks From Walking In The   Place Of   The   Sacrifice!' He 
 Cried.  'Fear Not, Bondman!  The   Mighty One, Who Rules Over Life And 
 Death, And Time And Futurity, Deals Kindly With The   Servant Of   His 
 Choice!  Onward! Onward! To The   Place Of   Darkness And Doom, Where I 
 Alone Am Omnipotent, And All Others Are Creatures Who Tremble And Obey! 
 To Thy Lesson, Learner! By Sunset The   Victim Must Be Crowned!' 
   
   
   
 He Looked Round On Numerian For An Instant, As He Prepared To Drag Him 
 Forward, And Their Eyes Met.  In The   Fierce Command Of   His Action, And 
 The Savage Exultation Of   His Glance, The   Father Saw Repeated In A 
 Wilder Form The   Very Attitude And Expression Which He Had Beheld In The 
 Pagan On The   Morning Of   The   Loss Of   His Child.  All The   Circumstances 
 Of That Miserable Hour--The Vacant Bed-Chamber--The Banished 
 Daughter--The Triumph Of   The   Betrayer--The Anguish Of   The 
 Betrayed--Rushed Over His Mind, And Rose Up Before It Vivid As A 
 Pictured Scene Before His Eyes. 
   
   
   
   
 He Struggled No More; The   Powers Of   Resistance In Mind And Body Were 
 Crushed Alike.  He Made An Effort To Remove Antonina From His Side, As 
 If, In Forgetfulness Of   The   Hidden Enemy Without, He Designed To Urge 
 Her Flight Through The   Open Door, While The   Madman's Attention Was Yet 
 Distracted From Her.  But, Beyond This Last Exertion Of   The   Strong 
 Instinct Of   Paternal Love, Every Other Active Emotion Seemed Dead 
 Within Him. 
   
   
   
 Vainly Had He Striven To Disentangle The   Child From The   Fate That Might 
 Be In Store For The   Parent.  To Her The   Dread Of   The   Dark Shadow On The 
 Pavement Was Superior To All Other Apprehensions.  She Now Clung More 
 Closely To Her Father, And Tightened Her Clasp Round His Hand.  So, 
 When The   Pagan Advanced Into The   Interior Of   The   Temple, It Was Not 
 Numerian Alone Who Followed Him To The   Place Of   Sacrifice, But Antonina 
 As Well. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 161 
   
 They Moved To The   Back Of   The   Pile Of   Idols.  Behind It Appeared A High 
 Partition Of   Gilt And Inlaid Wood Reaching To The   Ceiling, And 
 Separating The   Outer From The   Inner Part Of   The   Temple.  A Low Archway 
 Passage, Protected By Carved Gates Similar To Those At The   Front Of   The 
 Building, Had Been Formed In The   Partition, And Through This Ulpius And 
 His Prisoners Now Passed Into The   Recess Beyond. 
   
   
   
 This Apartment Was Considerably Smaller Than The   First Hall Of   The 
 Temple Which They Had Just Left.  The   Ceiling And The   Floor Both Sloped 
 Downwards Together, And Here The   Rippling Of   The   Waters Of   The   Tiber 
 Was More Distinctly Audible To Them Than In The   Outer Division Of   The 
 Building.  At The   Moment When They Entered It The   Place Was Very Dark; 
 The Pile Of   Idols Intercepted Even The   Little Light That Could Have 
 Been Admitted Through Its Narrow Entrance; But The   Dense Obscurity Was 
 Soon Dissipated. Dragging Numerian After Him To The   Left Side Of   The 
 Recess, Ulpius Drew Back A Sort Of   Wooden Shutter, And A Vivid Ray Of 
 Sunlight Immediately Streamed In Through A Small Circular Opening 
 Pierced In This Part Of   The   Temple. 
   
   
   
 Then There Became Apparent, At The   Lower End Of   The   Apartment, A Vast 
 Yawning Cavity In The   Wall, High Enough To Admit A Man Without 
 Stooping, But Running Downwards Almost Perpendicularly To Some Lower 
 Region Which It Was Impossible To See, For No Light Shot Upwards From 
 This Precipitous Artificial Abyss, In The   Darkness Of   Which The   Eye Was 
 Lost After It Had Penetrated To The   Distance Of   A Few Feet Only From 
 The Opening.  At The   Base Of   The   Confined Space Thus Visible Appeared 
 The Commencement Of   A Flight Of   Steps, Evidently Leading Far Downwards 
 Into The   Cavity.  On The   Abruptly Sloping Walls, Which Bounded It On 
 All Sides, Were Painted, In The   Brilliant Hues Of   Ancient Fresco, 
 Representations Of   The   Deities Of   The   Mythology--All In The   Attitude Of 
 Descending Into The   Vault, And All Followed By Figures Of   Nymphs 
 Bearing Wreaths Of   Flowers, Beautiful Birds, And Other Similar Adjuncts 
 Of The   Votive Ceremonies Of   Paganism.  The   Repulsive Contrast Between 
 The Bright Colours And Graceful Forms Presented By The   Frescoes, And 
 The Perilous And Gloomy Appearance Of   The   Cavity Which They Decorated, 
 Increased Remarkably The   Startling Significance In The   Character Of   The 
 Whole Structure.  Its Past Evil Uses Seemed Ineradicably Written Over 
 Every Part Of   It, As Past Crime And Torment Remain Ineradicably Written 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 162 
 On The   Human Face; The   Mind Imbibed From It Terrifying Ideas Of   Deadly 
 Treachery, Of   Secret Atrocities, Of   Frightful Refinements Of   Torture, 
 Which No Uninitiated Eye Had Ever Beheld, And No Human Resolution Had 
 Ever Been Powerful Enough To Resist. 
   
   
   
 But The   Impressions Thus Received Were Not Produced Only By What Was 
 Seen In And Around This Strange Vault, But By What Was Heard There 
 Besides.  The   Wind Penetrated The   Cavity At Some Distance, And Through 
 Some Opening That Could Not Be Beheld, And Was Apparently Intercepted 
 In Its Passage, For It Whistled Upwards Towards The   Entrance In Shrill, 
 Winding Notes, Sometimes Producing Another And Nearer Sound, Resembling 
 The Clashing Of   Many Small Metallic Substances Violently Shaken 
 Together.  The   Noise Of   The   Wind, As Well As The   Bubbling Of   The 
 Current Of   The   Tiber, Seemed To Proceed From A Greater Distance Than 
 Appeared Compatible With The   Narrow Extent Of   The   Back Part Of   The 
 Temple, And The   Proximity Of   The   River To Its Low Foundation Walls. 
   
   
   
   
 It Was Evident That The   Vault Only Reached Its Outlet After It Had 
 Wound Backwards, Underneath The   Building, In Some Strange Complication 
 Of Passages Or Labyrinth Of   Artificial Caverns, Which Might Have Been 
 Built Long Since As Dungeons For The   Living, Or As Sepulchres For The 
 Dead. 
   
   
   
 'The Place Of   The   Sacrifice--Aha! The   Place Of   The   Sacrifice!' Cried 
 The Pagan Exultingly, As He Drew Numerian To The   Entrance Of   The 
 Cavity, And Solemnly Pointed Into The   Darkness Beneath. 
   
   
   
 The Father Gazed Steadily Into The   Chasm, Never Turning Now To Look On 
 Antonina, Never Moving To Renew The   Struggle For Freedom.  Earthly 
 Loves And Earthly Hopes Began To Fade Away From His Heart--He Was 
 Praying. The   Solemn Words Of   Christian Supplication Fell In Low, 
 Murmuring Sounds From His Lips, In The   Place Of   Idolatry And Bloodshed, 
 And Mingled With The   Incoherent Ejaculations Of   The   Madman Who Kept Him 
 Captive, And Who Now Bent His Glaring Eyes On The   Darkness Of   The 
 Vault, Half Forgetful, In The   Gloomy Fascination Which It Exercised 
 Even Over Him, Of   The   Prisoners Whom He Held At Its Mouth. 
   
   
   
 The Single Ray Of   Light, Admitted From The   Circular Aperture Of   The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 163 
 Wall, Fell Wild And Fantastic Over The   Widely-Differing Figures Of   The 
 Three, As They Stood So Strangely United Together Before The   Abyss That 
 Opened Beneath Them.  The   Shadows Were Above And The   Shadows Were 
 Around; There Was No Light In The   Ill-Omened Place But The   One Vivid 
 Ray That Streamed Over The   Gaunt Figure Of   Ulpius, As He Still Pointed 
 Into The   Darkness; Over The   Rigid Features Of   Numerian, Praying In The 
 Bitterness Of   Expected Death; And Over The   Frail Youthful Form Of 
 Antonina As She Nestled Trembling At Her Father's Side.  It Was An 
 Unearthly And A Solemn Scene! 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile The   Shadow Which The   Girl Had Observed On The   Pavement Before 
 The Doorway Of   The   Temple Now Appeared There Again, But Not To Retire 
 As Before;  For, The   Instant After, Goisvintha Stealthily Entered The 
 Outer Apartment Of   The   Building Left Vacant By Its First Occupants. 
 She Passed Softly Around The   Pile Of   Idols, Looked Into The   Inner 
 Recess Of   The   Temple, And Saw The   Three Figures Standing Together In 
 The Ray Of   Light, Gloomy And Motionless, Before The   Mouth Of   The 
 Cavity.  Her First Glance Fixed On The   Pagan, Whom She Instinctively 
 Doubted And Dreaded, Whose Purpose In Keeping Captive The   Father And 
 Daughter She Could Not Divine; Her Next Was Directed On Antonina. 
   
   
   
 The Girl's Position Was A Guarded One; Still Holding Her Father's Hand, 
 She Was Partly Protected By His Body; And Stood Unconsciously Beneath 
 The Arm Of   Ulpius, As It Was Raised While He Grasped Numerian's 
 Shoulder.  Marking This, And Remembering That Antonina Had Twice 
 Escaped Her Already, Goisvintha Hesitated For A Moment, And Then, With 
 Cautious Step And Lowering Brow, Began To Retire Again Towards The 
 Doorway Of   The   Building.  'Not Yet--Not Yet The   Time!' She Muttered, As 
 She Resumed Her Former Lurking-Place; 'They Stand Where The   Light Is 
 Over Them--The Girl Is Watched And Shielded--The Two Men Are Still On 
 Either Side Of   Her! Not Yet The   Moment Of   The   Blow; The   Stroke Of   The 
 Knife Must Be Sure And Safe!  Sure, For This Time She Must Die By My 
 Hand!  Safe, For I Have Other Vengeance To Wreak Besides The   Vengeance 
 On Her!  I, Who Have Been Patient And Cunning Since The   Night When I 
 Escaped From Aquileia, Will Be Patient And Cunning Still!  If She 
 Passes The   Door, I Slay Her As She Goes Out; If She Remains In The 
 Temple--' 
   
   
   
 At The   Last Word, Goisvintha Paused And Gazed Upward; The   Setting Sun 
 Threw Its Fiery Glow Over Her Haggard Face; Her Eye Brightened Fiercely 
 In The   Full Light As She Looked.  'The Darkness Is At Hand!' She 
 Continued; 'The Night Will Be Thick And Black In The   Dim Halls Of   The 
 Temple; I Shall See Her When She Shall Not See Me!--The Darkness Is 
 Coming; The   Vengeance Is Sure!' 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 164 
   
   
 She Closed Her Lips, And With Fatal Perseverance Continued To Watch And 
 Wait, As She Had Resolutely Watched And Waited Already.  The   Roman And 
 The Goth; The   Opposite In Sex, Nation, And Fate; The   Madman Who Dreamed 
 Of The   Sanguinary Superstitions Of   Paganism Before The   Temple Altar, 
 And The   Assassin Who Brooded Over The   Chances Of   Bloodshed Beneath The 
 Temple Portico, Were Now United In A Mysterious Identity Of 
 Expectation, Uncommunicated And Unsuspected By Either--The Hour When 
 The Sun Vanished From The   Heaven Was The   Hour Of   The   Sacrifice For Both! 
   
   
   
       *      *      *      *      * 
   
   
   
 There Is Now A Momentary Pause In The   Progress Of   Events.  Occurrences 
 To Be Hereafter Related Render It Necessary To Take Advantage Of   This 
 Interval To Inform The   Reader Of   The   Real Nature And Use Of   The   Vault 
 In The   Temple Wall, The   External Appearance Of   Which We Have Already 
 Described. 
   
   
   
 The Marking Peculiarity In The   Construction Of   The   Pagan Religion May 
 Be Most Aptly Compared To The   Marking Peculiarity In The   Construction 
 Of The   Pagan Temples.  Both Were Designed To Attract The   General Eye By 
 The Outward Effect Only, Which Was In Both The   False Delusive 
 Reflection Of   The   Inward Substance. 
   
   
   
 In The   Temple, The   People, As They Worshipped Beneath The   Long 
 Colonnades, Or Beheld The   Lofty Porticoes From The   Street, Were Left To 
 Imagine The   Corresponding Majesty And Symmetry Of   The   Interior Of   The 
 Structure, And Were Not Admitted To Discover How Grievously It 
 Disappointed The   Brilliant Expectations Which The   Exterior Was So Well 
 Calculated To Inspire; How Little The   Dark, Narrow Halls Of   The   Idols, 
 The Secret Vaults And Gloomy Recesses Within, Fulfilled The   Promise Of 
 The Long Flights Of   Steps, The   Broad Extent Of   Pavement, The   Massive 
 Sun-Brightened Pillars Without.  So In The   Religion, The   Votary Was 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 165 
 Allured By The   Splendour Of   Processions; By The   Pomp Of   Auguries; By 
 The Poetry Of   The   Superstition Which Peopled His Native Woods With The 
 Sportive Dryads, And The   Fountains From Which He Drank With Their 
 Guardian Naiads; Which Gave To Mountain And Lake, To Sun And Moon And 
 Stars, To All Things Around And Above Him, Their Fantastic Allegory, Or 
 Their Gracious Legend Of   Beauty And Love:  But Beyond This, His First 
 Acquaintance With His Worship Was Not Permitted To Extend, Here His 
 Initiation Concluded.  He Was Kept In Ignorance Of   The   Dark And 
 Dangerous Depths Which Lurked Beneath This Smooth And Attractive 
 Surface; He Was Left To Imagine That What Was Displayed Was But The 
 Prelude To The   Future Discovery Of   What Was Hidden Of   Beauty In The 
 Rites Of   Paganism; He Was Not Admitted To Behold The   Wretched 
 Impostures, The   Loathsome Orgies, The   Hideous Incantations, The   Bloody 
 Human Sacrifices Perpetrated In Secret, Which Made The   Foul, Real 
 Substance Of   The   Fair Exterior Form.  His First Sight Of   The   Temple Was 
 Not Less Successful In Deceiving His Eye Than His First Impression Of 
 The Religion In Deluding His Mind. 
   
   
   
 With These Hidden And Guilty Mysteries Of   The   Pagan Worship, The   Vault 
 Before Which Ulpius Now Stood With His Captives Was Intimately 
 Connected. 
   
   
   
 The Human Sacrifices Offered Among The   Romans Were Of   Two Kinds; Those 
 Publicly And Those Privately Performed.  The   First Were Of   Annual 
 Recurrence In The   Early Years Of   The   Republic; Were Prohibited At A 
 Later Date; Were Revived By Augustus, Who Sacrificed His Prisoners Of 
 War At The   Altar Of   Julius Caesar; And Were Afterwards--Though 
 Occasionally Renewed For Particular Purposes Under Some Subsequent 
 Reigns--Wholly Abandoned As Part Of   The   Ceremonies Of   Paganism During 
 The Later Periods Of   The   Empire. 
   
   
   
 The Sacrifices Perpetrated In Private Were Much Longer Practised.  They 
 Were Connected With The   Most Secret Mysteries Of   The   Mythology; Were 
 Concealed From The   Supervision Of   Government; And Lasted Probably Until 
 The General Extinction Of   Heathen Superstition In Italy And The 
 Provinces. 
   
   
   
 Many And Various Were The   Receptacles Constructed For The   Private 
 Immolation Of   Human Victims In Different Parts Of   The   Empire--In Its 
 Crowded Cities As Well As In Its Solitary Woods--And Among All, One Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 166 
 The Most Remarkable And The   Longest Preserved Was The   Great Cavity 
 Pierced In The   Wall Of   The   Temple Which Ulpius Had Chosen For His 
 Solitary Lurking-Place In Rome. 
   
   
   
   
 It Was Not Merely As A Place Of   Concealment For The   Act Of   Immolation, 
 And For The   Corpse Of   The   Victim, That The   Vault Had Been Built.  A 
 Sanguinary Artifice Had Complicated The   Manner Of   Its Construction, By 
 Placing In The   Cavity Itself The   Instrument Of   The   Sacrifice; By Making 
 It, As It Were, Not Merely The   Receptacle, But The   Devourer Also Of   Its 
 Human Prey.  At The   Bottom Of   The   Flight Of   Steps Leading Down Into It 
 (The Top Of   Which, As We Have Already Observed, Was Alone Visible From 
 The Entrance In The   Temple Recess) Was Fixed The   Image Of   A Dragon 
 Formed In Brass. 
   
   
   
 The Body Of   The   Monster, Protruding Opposite The   Steps Almost At A 
 Right Angle From The   Wall, Was Moved In All Directions By Steel 
 Springs, Which Communicated With One Of   The   Lower Stairs, And Also With 
 A Sword Placed In The   Throat Of   The   Image To Represent The   Dragon's 
 Tongue.  The   Walls Around The   Steps Narrowed So As Barely To Admit The 
 Passage Of   The   Human Body When They Approached The   Dragon.  At The 
 Slightest Pressure On The   Stair With Which The   Spring Communicated, The 
 Body Of   The   Monster Bent Forward, And The   Sword Instantly Protruded 
 From Its Throat, At Such A Height From The   Steps As Ensure That It 
 Should Transfix In A Vital Part The   Person Who Descended.  The   Corpse, 
 Then Dropping By Its Own Weight Off The   Sword, Fell Through A Tunnelled 
 Opening Beneath The   Dragon, Running Downward In An Opposite Direction 
 To That Taken By The   Steps Above, And Was Deposited On An Iron Grating 
 Washed By The   Waters Of   The   Tiber, Which Ran Under The   Arched 
 Foundations Of   The   Temple.  The   Grating Was Approached By A Secret 
 Subterranean Passage Leading From The   Front Of   The   Building, By Which 
 The Sacrificing Priests Were Enabled To Reach The   Dead Body, To Fasten 
 Weights To It, And Opening The   Grating, To Drop It Into The   River, 
 Never To Be Beheld Again By Mortal Eyes. 
   
   
   
 In The   Days When This Engine Of   Destruction Was Permitted To Serve The 
 Purpose For Which The   Horrible Ingenuity Of   Its Inventors Had 
 Constructed It, Its Principal Victims Were Young Girls.  Crowned With 
 Flowers, And Clad In White Garments, They Were Lured Into Immolating 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 167 
 Themselves By Being Furnished With Rich Offerings, And Told That The 
 Sole Object Of   Their Fatal Expedition Down The   Steps Of   The   Vault Was 
 To Realise The   Pictures Adorning Its Walls (Which We Have Described A 
 Few Pages Back), By Presenting Their Gifts At The   Shrine Of   The   Idol 
 Below. 
   
   
   
 At The   Period Of   Which We Write, The   Dragon Had For Many Years--Since 
 The First Prohibitions Of   Paganism--Ceased To Be Fed With Its Wonted 
 Prey.  The   Scales Forming Its Body Grew Gradually Corroded And Loosened 
 By The   Damp; And When Moved By The   Wind Which Penetrated To Them From 
 Beneath, Whistling Up In Its Tortuous Course Through The   Tunnel That 
 Ran In One Direction Below, And The   Vault Of   The   Steps That Ascended In 
 Another Above, Produced The   Clashing Sound Which Has Been Mentioned As 
 Audible At Intervals From The   Mouth Of   The   Cavity.  But The   Springs 
 Which Moved The   Deadly Apparatus Of   The   Whole Machine Being Placed 
 Within It, Under Cover, Continued To Resist The   Slow Progress Of   Time 
 And Of   Neglect, And Still Remained As Completely Fitted As Ever To 
 Execute The   Fatal Purpose For Which They Had Been Designed. 
   
   
   
 The Ultimate Destiny Of   The   Dragon Of   Brass Was The   Destiny Of   The 
 Religion Whose Bloodiest Superstitions It Embodied:  It Fell Beneath 
 The Resistless Advance Of   Christianity.  Shortly After The   Date Of   Our 
 Narrative, The   Interior Of   The   Building Beneath Which It Was Placed 
 Having Suffered From An Accident, Which Will Be Related Farther On, The 
 Exterior Was Dismantled, In Order That Its Pillars Might Furnish 
 Materials For A Church.  The   Vault In The   Wall Was Explored By A Monk 
 Who Had Been Present At The   Destruction Of   Other Pagan Temples, And Who 
 Volunteered To Discover Its Contents.  With A Torch In One Hand, And An 
 Iron Bar In The   Other, He Descended Into The   Cavity, Sounding The   Walls 
 And The   Steps Before Him As He Proceeded.  For The   First And The   Last 
 Time The   Sword Protruded Harmless From The   Monster's Throat When The 
 Monk Pressed The   Fatal Stair, Before Stepping On It, With His Iron Bar. 
 The Same Day The   Machine Was Destroyed And Cast Into The   Tiber, Where 
 Its Victims Had Been Thrown Before It In Former Years. 
   
   
   
       *      *      *      *      * 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 168 
   
 Some Minutes Have Elapsed Since We Left The   Father And Daughter 
 Standing By The   Pagan's Side Before The   Mouth Of   The   Vault; And As Yet 
 There Appears No Change In The   Several Positions Of   The   Three.  But 
 Already, While Ulpius Still Looks Down Steadfastly Into The   Cavity At 
 His Feet, His Voice, As He Continues To Speak, Grows Louder, And His 
 Words Become More Distinct.  Fearful Recollections Associated With The 
 Place Are Beginning To Stir His Weary Memory, To Lift The   Darkness Of 
 Oblivion From His Idle Thoughts. 
   
   
   
 'They Go Down, Far Down There!' He Abruptly Exclaimed, Pointing Into 
 The Black Depths Of   The   Vault, 'And Never Arise Again To The   Light Of 
 The Upper Earth!  The   Great Destroyer Is Watchful In His Solitude 
 Beneath, And Looks Through The   Darkness For Their Approach!  Hark! The 
 Hissing Of   His Breath Is Like To The   Clash Of   Weapons In A Deadly 
 Strife!' 
   
   
   
 At This Moment The   Wind Moved The   Loose Scales Of   The   Dragon.  During 
 An Instant Ulpius Remained Silent, Listening To The   Noise They 
 Produced. For The   First Time An Expression Of   Dread Appeared On His 
 Face.  His Memory Was Obscurely Reviving The   Incidents Of   His Discovery 
 Of The   Deadly Machinery In The   Vault When He First Made His Sojourn In 
 The Temple, When--Filled With The   Confused Remembrance Of   The 
 Mysterious Rites And Incantations, The   Secret Sacrifices Which He Had 
 Witnessed And Performed At Alexandria--He Had Found And Followed The 
 Subterranean Passage Which Led To The   Iron Grating Beneath The   Dragon. 
 As The   Wind Lulled Again, And The   Clashing Of   The   Metal Ceased With It, 
 He Began To Give These Recollections Expression In Words, Uttering Them 
 In Slow, Solemn Accents To Himself. 
   
   
   
 'I Have Seen The   Destroyer; The   Invisible Has Revealed Himself To Me!' 
 He Murmured.  'I Stood On The   Iron Bars; The   Restless Waters Toiled And 
 Struggled Beneath My Feet As I Looked Up Into The   Place Of   Darkness.  A 
 Voice Called To Me, "Get Light, And Behold Me From Above!  Get Light! 
 Get Light!"  Sun, And Moon, And Stars Gave No Light There! But Lamps 
 Burnt In The   City, In The   Houses Of   The   Dead, When I Walked By Them In 
 The Night-Time; And The   Lamp Gave Light When Sun, And Moon, And Stars 
 Gave None! From The   Top Steps I Looked Down, And Saw The   Powerful One 
 In His Golden Brightness; And Approached Not, But Watched And Listened 
 In Fear.  The   Voice Again!--The Voice Was Heard Again!--"Sacrifice To 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 169 
 Me In Secret, As Thy Brethren Sacrifice!  Give Me The   Living Where The 
 Living Are, And The   Dead Where The   Dead!"  The   Air Came Up Cold, And 
 The Voice Ceased, And The   Lamp Was Like Sun, And Moon, And Stars--It 
 Gave No Light In The   Place Of   Darkness!' 
   
   
   
 While He Spoke, The   Loose Metal Again Clashed In The   Vault, For The 
 Wind Was Strengthening As The   Evening Advanced.  'Hark! The   Signal To 
 Prepare The   Sacrifice!' Cried The   Pagan, Turning Abruptly To Numerian. 
 'Listen, Bondman! The   Living And The   Dead Are Within Our Reach.  The 
 Breath Of   The   Invisible Strikes Them In The   Street And In The   House; 
 They Stagger In The   Highways, And Drop At The   Temple Steps.  When The 
 Hour Comes We Shall Go Forth And Find Them.  Under My Hand They Go Down 
 Into The   Cavern Beneath.  Whether They Are Hurled Dead, Or Whether They 
 Go Down Living, They Fall Through To The   Iron Bars, Where The   Water 
 Leaps And Rejoices To Receive Them!  It Is Mine To Sacrifice Them 
 Above, And Thine To Wait For Them Below, To Lift The   Bars And Give Them 
 To The   River To Be Swallowed Up!  The   Dead Drop Down First, The   Living 
 That Are Slain By The   Destroyer Follow After!' 
   
   
   
 Here He Paused Suddenly.  Now, For The   First Time, His Eye Rested On 
 Antonina, Whose Very Existence He Seemed Hitherto To Have Forgotten.  A 
 Revolting Smile Of   Mingled Cunning And Satisfaction Instantly Changed 
 The Whole Character Of   His Countenance As He Gazed On Her And Then 
 Looked Round Significantly To The   Vault.  'Here Is One,' He Whispered 
 To Numerian, Taking Her By The   Arm.  'Keep Her Captive--The Hour Is 
 Near!' 
   
   
   
 Numerian Had Hitherto Stood Unheedful While He Spoke; But When He 
 Touched Antonina The   Bare Action Was Enough To Arouse The   Father To 
 Resistance--Hopeless Though It Was--Once More.  He Shook Off The   Grasp 
 Of Ulpius From The   Girl's Arm, And Drew Back With Her--Breathless, 
 Vigilant, Desperate--To The   Side-Wall Behind Him. 
   
   
   
 The Madman Laughed In Proud Approval.  'My Bondman Obeys Me And Seizes 
 The Captive!' He Cried. 'He Remembers That The   Hour Is Near And Loosens 
 Not His Hold!  Come,' He Continued, 'Come Out Into The   Hall Beyond!--It 
 Is Time That We Watch For More Victims For The   Sacrifice Till The   Sun 
 Goes Down.  The   Destroyer Is Mighty And Must Be Obeyed!' 
   
   
   
   
 He Walked To The   Entrance Leading Into The   First Apartment Of   The 
 Temple, And Then Waited To Be Followed By Numerian, Who, Now For The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 170 
 First Time Separated From Ulpius, Remained Stationary In The   Position 
 He Had Last Occupied, And Looked Eagerly Around Him.  No Chance Of 
 Escape Presented Itself; The   Mouth Of   The   Vault On One Side, And The 
 Passage Through The   Partition On The   Other, Were The   Only Outlets To 
 The Place. There Was No Hope But To Follow The   Pagan Into The   Great 
 Hall Of   The   Temple, To Keep Carefully At A Distance From Him, And To 
 Watch The   Opportunity Of   Flight Through The   Doorway. The   Street, So 
 Desolate When Last Beheld, Might Now Afford More Evidence That It Was 
 Inhabited. Citizens, Guards Might Be Passing By, And Might Be Summoned 
 Into The   Temple--Help Might Be At Hand. 
   
   
   
 As He Moved Forward With Antonina, Such Thoughts Passed Rapidly Through 
 The Father's Mind, Unaccompanied At The   Moment By The   Recollection Of 
 The Stranger Who Had Followed Them From The   Pincian Gate, Or Of   The 
 Apathy Of   The   Famished Populace In Aiding Each Other In Any Emergency. 
 Seeing That He Was Followed As He Had Commanded, Ulpius Passed On 
 Before Them To The   Pile Of   Idols; But A Strange And Sudden Alteration 
 Appeared In His Gait.  He Had Hitherto Walked With The   Step Of   A 
 Man--Young, Strong, And Resolute Of   Purpose; Now He Dragged One Limb 
 After The   Other As Slowly And Painfully As If He Had Received A Mortal 
 Hurt.  He Tottered With More Than The   Infirmity Of   His Age, His Head 
 Dropped Upon His Breast, And He Moaned And Murmured Inarticulately In 
 Low, Long-Drawn Cries. 
   
   
   
 He Had Advanced To The   Side Of   The   Pile, Half-Way Towards The   Doorway 
 Of The   Temple, When Numerian, Who Had Watched With Searching Eyes The 
 Abrupt Change In His Demeanour, Forgetting The   Dissimulation Which 
 Might Still Be All-Important, Abandoned Himself To His First Impulse, 
 And Hurriedly Pressing Forward With Antonina, Attempted To Pass The 
 Pagan And Escape.  But At The   Moment Ulpius Stopped In His Slow 
 Progress, Reeled, Threw Out His Hands Convulsively, And Seizing 
 Numerian By The   Arm, Staggered Back With Him Against The   Side-Wall Of 
 The Temple.  The   Fingers Of   The   Tortured Wretch Closed As If They Were 
 Never To Be Unlocked Again--Closed As If With The   Clutch Of   Death, With 
 The Last Frantic Grasp Of   A Drowning Man. 
   
   
   
 For Days And Nights Past He Had Toiled Incessantly Under The   Relentless 
 Tyranny Of   His Frenzy, Building Up Higher And Higher His Altar Of 
 Idols, And Pouring Forth His Invocations Before His Gods In The   Place 
 Of The   Sacrifice; And Now, At The   Moment When He Was Most Triumphant In 
 His Ferocious Activity Of   Purpose, When His Fancied Bondman And His 
 Fancied Victim Were Most Helpless At His Command--Now, When His 
 Strained Faculties Were Strung To Their Highest Pitch, The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 171 
 Long-Deferred Paroxysm Had Seized Him, Which Was The   Precursor Of   His 
 Repose, Of   The   Only Repose Granted By His Awful Fate--A Change (The 
 Mournful Change Already Described) In The   Form Of   His Insanity.  For At 
 Those Rare Periods When He Slept, His Sleep Was Not Unconsciousness, 
 Not Rest:  It Was A Trance Of   Hideous Dreams--His Tongue Spoke, His 
 Limbs Moved, When He Slumbered As When He Woke.  It Was Only When His 
 Visions Of   The   Pride, The   Power, The   Fierce Conflicts, And Daring 
 Resolutions Of   His Maturer Years Gave Place To His Dim, Quiet, Waking 
 Dreams Of   His Boyish Days, That His Wasted Faculties Reposed, And His 
 Body Rested With Them In The   Motionless Languor Of   Perfect Fatigue. 
 Then, If Words Were Still Uttered By His Lips, They Were As Murmurs Of 
 An Infant--Happy Sleep; For The   Innocent Phrases Of   His Childhood Which 
 They Then Revived, Seemed For A Time To Bring With Them The   Innocent 
 Tranquillity Of   His Childhood As Well. 
   
   
   
 'Go! Go!--Fly While You Are Yet Free!' Cried Numerian, Dropping The 
 Hand Of   Antonina, And Pointing To The   Door.  But For The   Second Time 
 The Girl Refused To Move Forward A Step.  No Horror, No Peril In The 
 Temple Could Banish For An Instant Her Remembrance Of   The   Night At The 
 Farm-House In The   Suburbs. She Kept Her Head Turned Towards The   Vacant 
 Entrance, Fixed Her Eyes On It In The   Unintermitting Watchfulness Of 
 Terror, And Whispered Affrightedly, 'Goisvintha!  Goisvintha!' When Her 
 Father Spoke. 
   
   
   
   
 The Clasp Of   The   Pagan's Fingers Remained Fixed And Deathlike As At 
 First; He Leaned Back Against The   Wall, As Still As If Life And Action 
 Had For Ever Departed From Him.  The   Paroxysm Had Passed Away; His 
 Face, Distorted But The   Moment Before, Was Now In Repose, But It Was A 
 Repose That Was Awful To Look On.  Tears Rolled Slowly From His 
 Half-Closed Eyes Over His Seamed And Wrinkled Cheeks--Tears Which Were 
 Not The   Impressive Expression Of   Mental Anguish (For A Vacant And 
 Unchanging Smile Was On His Lips), But The   Mere Mechanical Outburst Of 
 The Physical Weakness That The   Past Crisis Of   Agony Had Left Behind It. 
 Not The   Slightest Appearance Of   Thought Or Observation Was Perceptible 
 In His Features: His Face Was The   Face Of   An Idiot. 
   
   
   
 Numerian, Who Had Looked On Him For An Instant, Shuddered And Averted 
 His Eyes, Recoiling From The   Sight Before Him.  But A More Overpowering 
 Trial Of   His Resolution Was Approaching, Which He Could Not Avoid.  Ere 
 Long The   Voice Of   Ulpius Grew Audible Once More; But Now Its Tones Were 
 Weak, Piteous, Almost Childish, And The   Words They Uttered Were Quiet 
 Words Of   Love And Gentleness, Which Dropping From Such Lips, And 
 Pronounced In Such A Place, Were Fearful To Hear.  The   Temple And All 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 172 
 That Was In It Vanished From His Sight As From His Memory.  Swayed By 
 The Dread And Supernatural Influences Of   His Disease, The   Madman Passed 
 Back In An Instant Over The   Dark Valley Of   Life's Evil Pilgrimage To 
 The Long-Quitted Precincts Of   His Boyish Home.  While In Bodily 
 Presence He Stood In The   Place Of   His Last Crimes, The   Outcast Of 
 Reason And Humanity, In Mental Consciousness He Lay In His Mother's 
 Arms, As He Had Lain There Ere Yet He Had Departed To The   Temple At 
 Alexandria; And His Heart Communed With Her Heart, And His Eyes Looked 
 On Her As They Had Looked Before His Father's Fatal Ambition Had 
 Separated For Ever Parent And Child! 
   
   
   
 'Mother!--Come Back, Mother!' He Whispered.  'I Was Not Asleep:  I Saw 
 You When You Came In, And Sat By My Bedside, And Wept Over Me When You 
 Kissed Me!  Come Back, And Sit By Me Still!  I Am Going Away, Far Away, 
 And May Never Hear Your Voice Again!  How Happy We Should Be, Mother, 
 If I Stayed With You Always!  But It Is My Father's Will That I Should 
 Go To The   Temple In Another Country, And Live There To Be A Priest; And 
 His Will Must Be Obeyed.  I May Never Return; But We Shall Not Forget 
 One Another!  I Shall Remember Your Words When We Used To Talk Together 
 Happily, And You Shall Still Remember Mine!' 
   
   
   
 Hardly Had The   First Sentence Been Uttered By Ulpius When Antonina Felt 
 Her Father's Whole Frame Suddenly Tremble At Her Side.  She Turned Her 
 Eyes From The   Doorway, On Which They Had Hitherto Been Fixed, And 
 Looked On Him.  The   Pagan's Hand Had Fallen From His Arm:  He Was Free 
 To Depart, To Fly As He Had Longed To Fly But A Few Minutes Before, And 
 Yet He Never Stirred.  His Daughter Touched Him, Spoke To Him, But He 
 Neither Moved Nor Answered.  It Was Not Merely The   Shock Of   The   Abrupt 
 Transition In The   Language Of   Ulpius From The   Ravings Of   Crime To The 
 Murmurs Of   Love--It Was Not Merely Astonishment At Hearing From Him, In 
 His Madness, Revelations Of   His Early Life Which Had Never Passed His 
 Lips During His Days Of   Treacherous Servitude In The   House On The 
 Pincian Hill, That Thus Filled Numerian's Inmost Soul With Awe, And 
 Struck His Limbs Motionless.  There Was More In All That He Heard Than 
 This.  The   Words Seemed As Words That Had Doomed Him At Once And For 
 Ever.  His Eyes, Directed Full On The   Face Of   The   Madman, Were Dilated 
 With Horror, And His Deep, Gasping, Convulsive Breathings Mingled 
 Heavily, During The   Moment Of   Silence That Ensued, With The   Chiming Of 
 The Bells Above And The   Bubbling Of   The   Water Below--The Lulling Music 
 Of The   Temple, Playing Its Happy Evening Hymn At The   Pleasant Close Of 
 Day. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 173 
 'We Shall Remember, Mother!--We Shall Remember!' Continued The   Pagan 
 Softly, 'And Be Happy In Our Remembrances!  My Brother, Who Loves Me 
 Not, Will Love You When I Am Gone!  You Will Walk In My Little Garden, 
 And Think On Me As You Look At The   Flowers That We Have Planted And 
 Watered Together In The   Evening Hours, When The   Sky Was Glorious To 
 Behold, And The   Earth Was All Quiet Around Us! Listen, Mother, And Kiss 
 Me!  When I Go To The   Far Country, I Will Make A Garden There Like My 
 Garden Here, And Plant The   Same Flowers That We Have Planted Here, And 
 In The   Evening I Will Go Out And Give Them Water At The   Hour When You 
 Go Out To Give My Flowers Water At Home; And So, Though We See Each 
 Other No More, It Will Yet Be As If We Laboured Together In The   Garden 
 As We Labour Now!' 
   
   
   
   
 The Girl Still Fixed Her Eager Gaze On Her Father.  His Eyes Presented 
 The Same Rigid Expression Of   Horror; But He Was Now Wiping Off With His 
 Own Hand, Mechanically, As If He Knew It Not, The   Foam Which The 
 Paroxysms Had Left Round The   Madman's Lips, And, Amid The   Groans That 
 Burst From Him, She Could Hear Such Words As, 'Lord God!--Mercy, Lord 
 God!  Thou, Who Hast Thus Restored Him To Me--Thus, Worse Than 
 Dead!--Mercy! Mercy!' 
   
   
   
 The Light On The   Pavement Beneath The   Portico Of   The   Temple Was Fading 
 Visibly--The Sun Had Gone Down. 
   
   
   
 For The   Third Time The   Madman Spoke, But His Tones Were Losing Their 
 Softness; They Were Complaining, Plaintive, Unutterably Mournful; His 
 Dreams Of   The   Past Were Already Changing.  'Farewell, Brother--Farewell 
 For Years And Years!' He Cried.  'You Have Not Given Me The   Love That I 
 Gave You.  The   Fault Was Not Mine That Our Father Loved Me The   Best, 
 And Chose Me To Be Sent To The   Temple To Be A Priest At The   Altar Of 
 The Gods!  The   Fault Was Not Mine That I Partook Not In Your Favoured 
 Sports, And Joined Not The   Companions Whom You Sought; It Was Our 
 Father's Will That I Should Not Live As You Lived, And I Obeyed It! 
 You Have Spoken To Me In Anger, And Turned From Me In Disdain; But 
 Farewell Again, Cleander--Farewell In Forgiveness And In Love!' 
   
   
   
 He Might Have Spoken More, But His Voice Was Drowned In One Long Shriek 
 Of Agony Which Burst From Numerian's Lips, And Echoed Discordantly 
 Through The   Hall Of   The   Temple, And He Sank Down With His Face To The 
 Ground At The   Pagan's Feet.  The   Dark And Terrible Destiny Was 
 Fulfilled.  The   Enthusiast For The   Right And The   Fanatic For The   Wrong; 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 174 
 The Man Who Had Toiled To Reform The   Church, And The   Man Who Had Toiled 
 To Restore The   Temple; The   Master Who Had Received And Trusted The 
 Servant In His Home, And The   Servant Who In That Home Had Betrayed The 
 Master's Trust--The Two Characters, Separated Hitherto In The   Sublime 
 Disunion Of   Good And Bad, Now Struck Together In Tremendous Contact, As 
 Brethren Who Had Drawn Their Life From One Source, Who As Children Had 
 Been Sheltered Under The   Same Roof! 
   
   
   
 Not In The   Hours When The   Good Christian Succoured The   Then Forsaken 
 Pagan, Wandering Homeless In Rome, Was The   Secret Disclosed; No Chance 
 Word Of   It Was Uttered When The   Deceiver Told The   Feigned Relation Of 
 His Life To The   Benefactor Whom He Was Plotting To Deceive, Or When, On 
 The First Morning Of   The   Siege, The   Machinations Of   The   Servant 
 Triumphed Over The   Confidence Of   The   Master: It Was Reserved To Be 
 Revealed In The   Words Of   Delirium, At The   Closing Years Of   Madness, 
 When He Who Discovered It Was Unconscious Of   All That He Spoke, And His 
 Eyes Were Blinded To The   True Nature Of   All That He Saw; When Earthly 
 Voices That Might Once Have Called Him Back To Repentance, To 
 Recognition, And To Love, Were Become To Him As Sounds That Have No 
 Meaning; When, By A Ruthless And Startling Fatality, It Was On The 
 Brother Who Had Wrought For The   True Faith That The   Whole Crushing 
 Weight Of   The   Terrible Disclosure Fell, Unpartaken By The   Brother Who 
 Had Wrought For The   False!  But The   Judgments Pronounced In Time Go 
 Forth From The   Tribunal Of   That Eternity To Which The   Mysteries Of   Life 
 Tend, And In Which They Shall Be Revealed--Neither Waiting On Human 
 Seasons Nor Abiding By Human Justice, But Speaking To The   Soul In The 
 Language Of   Immortality, Which Is Heard In The   World That Is Now, And 
 Interpreted In The   World That Is To Come. 
   
   
   
 Lost, For An Instant, Even The   Recollection That Goisvintha Might Still 
 Be Watching Her Opportunity From Without, Calling Despairingly On Her 
 Father, And Vainly Striving To Raise Him From The   Ground, Antonina 
 Remembered Not, In The   Overwhelming Trial Of   The   Moment, The 
 Revelations Of   Numerian's Past Life That Had Been Disclosed To Her In 
 The Days When The   Famine Was At Its Worst In Rome.  The   Name Of 
 'Cleander', Which She Had Then Heard Her Father Pronounce, As The   Name 
 That He Had Abandoned When He Separated Himself From The   Companions Of 
 His Sinful Choice, Passed Unheeded By Her When The   Pagan Unconsciously 
 Uttered It.  She Saw The   Whole Scene But As A Fresh Menace Of   Danger, 
 As A New Vision Of   Terror, More Ominous Of   Ill Than All That Had 
 Preceded It. 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 175 
 Thick As Was The   Darkness In Which The   Lulling And Involuntary Memories 
 Of The   Past Had Enveloped The   Perceptions Of   Ulpius, The   Father's 
 Piercing Cry Of   Anguish Seemed To Have Penetrated It With A Sudden Ray 
 Of Light.  The   Madman's Half-Closed Eyes Opened Instantly And Fixed, 
 Dreamily At First, On The   Altar Of   Idols.  He Waved His Hands To And 
 Fro Before Him, As If He Were Parting Back The   Folds Of   A Heavy Veil 
 That Obscured His Sight; But His Wayward Thoughts Did Not Resume As Yet 
 Their Old Bias Towards Ferocity And Crime.  When He Spoke Again, His 
 Speech Was Still Inspired By The   Visions Of   His Early Life--But Now Of 
 His Early Life In The   Temple At Alexandria.  His Expressions Were More 
 Abrupt, More Disjointed Than Before; Yet They Continued To Display The 
 Same Evidence Of   The   Mysterious, Instinctive Vividness Of   Recollection, 
 Which Was The   Result Of   The   Sudden Change In The   Nature Of   His 
 Insanity. His Language Wandered (Still As If The   Words Came From Him 
 Undesignedly And Unconsciously) Over The   Events Of   His Boyish 
 Introduction To The   Service Of   The   Gods, And, Though Confusing Them In 
 Order, Still Preserved Them In Substance, As They Have Been Already 
 Related In The   History Of   His 'Apprenticeship To The   Temple'. 
   
   
   
 Now He Was In Imagination Looking Down Once More From The   Summit Of   The 
 Temple Of   Serapis On The   Glittering Expanse Of   The   Nile And The   Wide 
 Country Around It; And Now He Was Walking Proudly Through The   Streets 
 Of Alexandria By The   Side Of   His Uncle, Macrinus, The   High Priest.  Now 
 He Was Wandering At Night, In Curiosity And Awe, Through The   Gloomy 
 Vaults And Subterranean Corridors Of   The   Sacred Place; And Now He Was 
 Listening, Well Pleased, To The   Kindly Greeting, The   Inspiring Praises 
 Of Macrinus During Their First Interview.  But At This Point, And While 
 Dwelling On This Occasion, His Memory Became Darkened Again; It Vainly 
 Endeavoured To Retrace The   Circumstances Attending The   Crowning 
 Evidence Of   The   High Priest's Interest In His Pupil, And Anxiety To 
 Identify Him Completely With His New Protector And His New Duties, 
 Which Had Been Displayed When He Conferred On The   Trembling Boy The 
 Future Distinction Of   One Of   His Own Names. 
   
   
   
 And Here, Let It Be Remembered, As A Chief Link In The   Mysterious Chain 
 Of Fatalities Which Had United To Keep The   Brothers Apart As Brethren 
 After They Had Met As Men, That Both Had, From Widely Different Causes, 
 Abandoned In After-Life The   Names Which They Bore In Their Father's 
 House; That While One, By His Own Act And For His Own Purpose, 
 Transformed Himself From Cleander, The   Associate Of   The   Careless And 
 The Criminal, To Numerian, The   Preacher Of   The   Gospel And Reformer Of 
 The Church, The   Other Had (To Quote The   Words Of   The   Fourth Chapter), 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 176 
 'Become From The   Boy Emilius The   Student Ulpius,' By The   Express And 
 Encouraging Command Of   His Master, Macrinus, The   High Priest. 
   
   
   
 While The   Pagan Still Fruitlessly Endeavoured To Revive The   Events 
 Connected With The   Change In His Designation On His Arrival In 
 Alexandria, And, Chafing Under The   Burden Of   Oblivion That Weighed Upon 
 His Thoughts, Attempted For The   First Time To Move From The   Wall 
 Against Which He Had Hitherto Leaned; While Antonina Still Strove In 
 Vain To Recall Her Father To The   Recollection Of   The   Terrible 
 Exigencies Of   The   Moment As He Crouched Prostrate At The   Madman's 
 Feet--The Doorway Of   The   Temple Was Darkened Once More By The   Figure Of 
 Goisvintha.  She Stood On The   Threshold, A Gloomy And Indistinct Form 
 In The   Fading Light, Looking Intently Into The   Deeply Shadowed Interior 
 Of The   Building. As She Marked The   Altered Positions Of   The   Father And 
 Daughter, She Uttered A Suppressed Ejaculation Of   Triumph; But, While 
 The Sound Passed Her Lips, She Heard, Or Thought She Heard, A Noise In 
 The Street Behind.  Even Now Her Vigilance And Cunning, Her Deadly, 
 Calculating Resolution To Await In Immovable Patience The   Fitting Time 
 For Striking The   Blow Deliberately And With Impunity, Did Not Fail Her. 
 Turning Instantly, She Walked To The   Top Step Of   The   Temple, And Stood 
 There For A Few Moments, Watchfully Surveying The   Open Space Before Her. 
   
   
   
   
 But In Those Few Moments The   Scene In The   Building Changed Once More. 
 The Madman, While He Still Wavered Between Relapsing Into The   Raving 
 Fit And Continuing Under The   Influence Of   The   Tranquil Mood In Which He 
 Had Been Prematurely Disturbed, Caught Sight Of   Goisvintha When Her 
 Approach Suddenly Shadowed The   Entrance To The   Temple.  Her Presence, 
 Momentary Though It Was, Was For Him The   Presence Of   A Figure That Had 
 Not Appeared Before; That Had Stood In A Strange Position Between The 
 Shade Within And The   Faint Light Without; It Was A New Object, 
 Presented To His Eyes While They Were Straining To Recover Such 
 Imperfect Faculties Of   Observation As Had Been Their Wont, And It 
 Ascendancy Over Him Was Instantaneous And All-Powerful. 
   
   
   
 He Started, Bewildered Like A Deep Sleeper Suddenly Awoke; Violent 
 Shudderings Ran For A Moment Over His Frame; Then It Strengthened Again 
 With Its Former Unnatural Strength; The   Demon Raged Within Him In 
 Renewed Fury As He Tore His Robe Which Numerian Held As He Lay At His 
 Feet From The   Feeble Grasp That Confined It, And, Striding Up To The 
 Pile Of   Idols, Stretched Out His Hands In Solemn Deprecation.  'The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 177 
 High Priest Has Slept Before The   Altar Of   The   Gods!' He Cried Loudly, 
 'But They Have Been Patient With Their Well-Beloved; Their Thunder Has 
 Not Struck Him For His Crime!  Now The   Servant Returns To His 
 Service--The Rites Of   Serapis Begin!' 
   
   
   
 Numerian Still Remained Prostrate, Spirit-Broken; He Slowly Clasped His 
 Hands Together On The   Floor, And His Voice Was Now To Be Heard, Still 
 Supplicating In Low And Stifled Accents, As If In Unceasing Prayer Lay 
 His Last Hope Of   Preserving His Own Reason.  'God!  Thou Art The   God Of 
 Mercy; Be Merciful To Him!' He Murmured.  'Thou Acceptest Of 
 Repentance; Grant Repentance To Him!  If At Any Time I Have Served Thee 
 Without Blame, Let The   Service Be Counted To Him; Let The   Vials Of   Thy 
 Wrath Be Poured Out On Me!' 
   
   
   
 'Hark! The   Trumpet Blows For The   Sacrifice!' Interrupted The   Raving 
 Voice Of   The   Pagan, As He Turned From The   Altar, And Extended His Arms 
 In Frenzied Inspiration.  'The Roar Of   Music And The   Voice Of 
 Exultation Soar Upward From The   Highest Mountain-Tops!  The   Incense 
 Smokes, And In And Out, And Round And Round, The   Dancers Whirl About 
 The Pillars Of   The   Temple!  The   Ox For The   Sacrifice Is Without Spot; 
 His Horns Are Gilt; The   Crown And Fillet Adorn His Head.  The   Priest 
 Stands Before Him Naked From The   Waist Upwards; He Heaves The   Libation 
 Out Of   The   Cup; The   Blood Flows Over The   Altar! Up! Up! Tear Forth With 
 Reeking Hands The   Heart While It Is Yet Warm, Futurity Is Before You In 
 The Quivering Entrails, Look On Them And Read! Read!' 
   
   
   
 While He Spoke, Goisvintha Had Entered The   Temple.  The   Street Was 
 Still Desolate; No Help Was At Hand. 
   
   
   
 Not Advancing At Once, She Concealed Herself Near The   Door Behind A 
 Projection In The   Pile Of   Idols, Watching From It Until Ulpius, In The 
 Progress Of   His Frenzy, Should Turn Away From Antonina, Whom He Stood 
 Fronting At This Instant.  But She Had Not Entered Unperceived; 
 Antonina Had Seen Her Again. And Now The   Bitterness Of   Death, When The 
 Young Die Unprotected In Their Youth, Came Over The   Girl, And She Cried 
 In A Low Wailing Voice, As She Knelt By Numerian's Side:  'I Must Die, 
 Father, I Must Die, As Hermanric Died!  Look Up At Me, And Speak To Me 
 Before I Die!' 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 178 
   
 Her Father Was Still Praying; He Heard Nothing, For His Heart Was 
 Bleeding In Atonement At The   Shrine Of   His Boyish Home, And His Soul 
 Still Communed With Its Maker.  The   Voice That Followed Hers Was The 
 Voice Of   Ulpius. 
   
   
   
 'Oh, Beautiful Are The   Gardens Round The   Sacred Altars, And Lofty The 
 Trees That Embower The   Glittering Shrines!' He Exclaimed, Rapt And 
 Ecstatic In His New Visions.  'Lo, The   Morning Breaks, And The   Spirits 
 Of Light Are Welcomed By A Sacrifice!  The   Sun Goes Down Behind The 
 Mountain, And The   Beams Of   Evening Tremble On The   Victim Beneath The 
 Knife Of   The   Adoring Priest!  The   Moon And Stars Shine High In The 
 Firmament, And The   Genii Of   Nights Are Saluted In The   Still Hours With 
 Blood!' 
   
   
   
 As He Paused, The   Lament Of   Antonina Was Continued In Lower And Lower 
 Tones:  'I Must Die, Father, I Must Die!'  And With It Murmured The 
 Supplicating Accents Of   Numerian:  'God Of   Mercy! Deliver The   Helpless 
 And Forgive The   Afflicted!  Lord Of   Judgment! Deal Gently With Thy 
 Servants Who Have Sinned!' While, Mingling With Both In Discordant 
 Combination, The   Strange Music Of   The   Temple Still Poured On Its 
 Lulling Sound--The Rippling Of   The   Running Waters And The   Airy Chiming 
 Of The   Bells! 
   
   
   
   
 'Worship!--Emperors, Armies, Nations, Glorify And Worship Me!' Shouted 
 The Madman, In Thunder-Tones Of   Triumph And Command, As His Eye For The 
 First Time Encountered The   Figure Of   Numerian Prostrate At His Feet. 
 'Worship The   Demi-God Who Moves With The   Deities Through Spheres 
 Unknown To Man!  I Have Heard The   Moans Of   The   Unburied Who Wander On 
 The Shores Of   The   Lake Of   The   Dead--Worship!  I Have Looked On The 
 River Whose Black Current Roars And Howls In Its Course Through The 
 Caves Of   Everlasting Night--Worship!  I Have Seen The   Furies Lashed By 
 Serpents On Their Wrinkled Necks, And Followed Them As They Hurled 
 Their Torches Over The   Pining Ghosts!  I Have Stood Unmoved In The 
 Hurricane-Tumult Of   Hell--Worship! Worship! Worship!' 
   
   
   
 He Turned Round Again Towards The   Altar Of   Idols, Calling Upon His Gods 
 To Proclaim His Deification, And At The   Moment When He Moved, 
 Goisvintha Sprang Forward.  Antonina Was Kneeling With Her Face Turned 
 From The   Door, As The   Assassin Seized Her By Her Long Hair And Drove 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 179 
 The Knife Into Her Neck. The   Moaning Accents Of   The   Girl, Bewailing Her 
 Approaching Fate, Closed In One Faint Groan; She Stretched Out Her 
 Arms, And Fell Forward Over Her Father's Body. 
   
   
   
 In The   Ferocious Triumph Of   The   Moment, Goisvintha Raised Her Arm To 
 Repeat The   Stroke; But At That Instant The   Madman Looked Round.  'The 
 Sacrifice--The Sacrifice!' He Shouted, Leaping At One Spring Like A 
 Wild Beast At Her Throat.  She Struck Ineffectually At Him With The 
 Knife, As He Fastened His Long Nails In Her Flesh And Hurled Her 
 Backwards To The   Floor.  Then He Yelled And Gibbered In Frantic 
 Exultation, Set His Foot On Her Breast, And Spat On Her As She Lay 
 Beneath Him. 
   
   
   
 The Contact Of   The   Girl's Body When She Fell--The Short But Terrible 
 Tumult Of   The   Attack That Passed Almost Over Him--The Shrill, Deafening 
 Cries Of   The   Madman, Awoke Numerian From His Trance Of   Despairing 
 Remembrance, Aroused Him In His Agony Of   Supplicating Prayer.  He 
 Looked Up. 
   
   
   
 The Scene That Met His Eyes Was One Of   Those Scenes Which Crush Every 
 Faculty But The   Faculty Of   Mechanical Action--Before Which, Thought 
 Vanishes From Men's Minds, Utterance Is Suspended On Their Lips, 
 Expression Is Paralysed On Their Faces.  The   Coldness Of   The   Tomb 
 Seemed Breathed Over Numerian's Aspect By The   Contemplation Of   The 
 Terrible Catastrophe:  His Eyes Were Glassy And Vacant, His Lips Parted 
 And Rigid; Even The   Remembrance Of   The   Discovery Of   His Brother Seemed 
 Lost To Him As He Stooped Over His Daughter And Bound A Fragment Of   Her 
 Robe Round Her Neck.  The   Mute, Soulless, Ghastly Stillness Of   Death 
 Looked Settled On His Features, As, Unconscious Now Of   Weakness Or Age, 
 He Rose With Her In His Arms, Stood Motionless For One Moment Before 
 The Doorway, And Looked Slowly Round On Ulpius; Then He Moved Forward 
 With Heavy Regular Steps.  The   Pagan's Foot Was Still On Goisvintha's 
 Breast As The   Father Passed Him; His Gaze Was Still Fixed On Her; But 
 His Cries Of   Triumph Were Calmed; He Laughed And Muttered Incoherently 
 To Himself. 
   
   
   
 The Moon Was Rising, Soft, Faint, And Tranquil, Over The   Quiet Street 
 As Numerian Descended The   Temple Steps With His Daughter In His Arms, 
 And, After An Instant's Pause Of   Bewilderment And Doubt, Instinctively 
 Pursued His Slow, Funereal Course Along The   Deserted Roadway In The 
 Direction Of   Home. Soon, As He Advanced, He Beheld In The   Moonlight, 
 Down The   Long Vista Of   The   Street At Its Termination, A Little 
 Assemblage Of   People Walking Towards Him With Calm And Regular 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 180 
 Progress. As They Came Nearer, He Saw That One Of   Them Held An Open 
 Book, That Another Carried A Crucifix, And That Others Followed These 
 Two With Clasped Hands And Drooping Heads.  And Then, After An 
 Interval, The   Fresh Breezes That Blew Towards Him Bore Onward These 
 Words, Slowly And Reverently Pronounced:-- 
   
   
   
 'Know, Therefore, That God Exacteth Of   Thee Less Than Thine Iniquity 
 Deserveth. 
   
   
   
 'Canst Thou, By Searching, Find Out God?  Canst Thou Find Out The 
 Almighty To Perfection?' 
   
   
   
 Then The   Breeze Fell, The   Words Grew Indistinct, But The   Procession 
 Still Moved Forward.  As It Came Nearer And Nearer, The   Voice Of   The 
 Reader Was Again Plainly Heard:-- 
   
   
   
 'If Iniquity Be In Thy Hand, Put It Far Away, And Let Not Wickedness 
 Dwell In Thy Tabernacles. 
   
   
   
 'For Then Shalt Thou Lift Up Thy Face Without Spot; Yea, Thou Shalt Be 
 Steadfast, And Shalt Not Fear; 
   
   
   
 'Because Thou Shalt Forget Thy Misery, And Remember It As Waters That 
 Pass Away: 
   
   
   
 And Thine Age Shall Be Clearer Than The   Noonday; Thou Shalt Shine 
 Forth, Thou Shalt Be As The   Morning.' 
   
   
   
 The Reader Stopped And Closed The   Book; For Now Numerian Had Met The 
 Members Of   The   Little Procession, And They Looked On Him Standing 
 Voiceless Before Them In The   Clear Moonlight, With His Daughter's Head 
 Drooping Over His Shoulder As He Carried Her In His Arms. 
   
   
   
 There Were Some Among Those Who Gathered Round Him Whose Features He 
 Would Have Recognised At Another Time As The   Features Of   The   Surviving 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 25 ( The Temple And The Church ) Pg 181 
 Adherents Of   His Former Congregation.  The   Assembly He Had Met Was 
 Composed Of   The   Few Sincere Christians In Rome, Who Had Collected, On 
 The Promulgation Of   The   News That Alaric Had Ratified Terms Of   Peace, 
 To Make A Pilgrimage Through The   City, In The   Hopeless Endeavour, By 
 Reading From The   Bible And Passing Exhortation, To Awaken The   Reckless 
 Populace To A Feeling Of   Contrition For Their Sins, And Of   Devout 
 Gratitude For Their Approaching Deliverance From The   Horrors Of   The 
 Siege. 
   
   
   
 But Now, When Numerian Confronted Them, Neither By Word Nor Look Did He 
 Express The   Slightest Recognition Of   Any Who Surrounded Him.  To All 
 The Questions Addressed To Him, He Replied By Hurried Gestures That 
 None Could Comprehend.  To All The   Promises Of   Help And Protection 
 Heaped Upon Him In The   First Outbreak Of   The   Grief And Pity Of   His 
 Adherents Of   Other Days, He Answered But By The   Same Dull, Vacant 
 Glance.  It Was Only When They Relieved Him Of   His Burden, And Gently 
 Prepared To Carry The   Senseless Girl Among Them Back To Her Father's 
 House, That He Spoke; And Then, In Faint Entreating Tones, He Besought 
 Them To Let Him Hold Her Hand As They Went, So That He Might Be The 
 First To Feel Her Pulse Beat--If It Yet Moved. 
   
   
   
 They Turned Back By The   Way They Had Come--A Sorrowful And Slow-Moving 
 Procession!  As They Passed On, The   Reader Again Opened The   Sacred 
 Book; And Then These Words Rose Through The   Soothing And Heavenly 
 Tranquillity Of   The   First Hours Of   Night:-- 
   
   
   
 'Behold, Happy Is The   Man Whom God Correcteth:  Therefore Despise Not 
 Thou The   Chastening Of   The   Almighty: 
   
   
   
 'For He Maketh Sore, And Bindeth Up:  He Woundeth, And His Hands Make 
 Whole.' 
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 182 
   
 As, In The   Progress Of   Life, Each Man Pursues His Course With The 
 Passions, Good And Evil, Set, As It Were, On Either Side Of   Him; And 
 Viewing Their Results In The   Actions Of   His Fellow-Men, Finds His 
 Attention, While Still Attracted By The   Spectacle Of   What Is Noble And 
 Virtuous, Suddenly Challenged By The   Opposite Display Of   What Is Mean 
 And Criminal--So, In The   Progress Of   This Narrative, Which Aims To Be 
 The Reflection Of   Life, The   Reader Who Has Journeyed With Us Thus Far, 
 And Who May Now Be Inclined To Follow The   Little Procession Of 
 Christian Devotees, To Walk By The   Side Of   The   Afflicted Father, And To 
 Hold With Him The   Hand Of   His Ill-Fated Child, Is Yet, In Obedience To 
 The Conditions Of   The   Story, Required To Turn Back For Awhile To The 
 Contemplation Of   Its Darker Passages Of   Guilt And Terror--He Must Enter 
 The Temple Again; But He Will Enter It For The   Last Time. 
   
   
   
 The Scene Before The   Altar Of   Idols Was Fast Proceeding To Its Fatal 
 Climax. 
   
   
   
   
 The Pagan's Frenzy Had Exhausted Itself In Its Own Fury--His Insanity 
 Was Assuming A Quieter And A More Dangerous Form; His Eye Grew Cunning 
 And Suspicious; A Stealthy Deliberation And Watchfulness Appeared In 
 All His Actions.  He Now Slowly Lifted His Foot From Goisvintha's 
 Breast, And Raised His Hands At The   Same Time To Strike Her Back If She 
 Should Attempt To Escape.  Seeing That She Lay Senseless From Her Fall, 
 He Left Her; Retired To One Of   The   Corners Of   The   Temple, Took From It 
 A Rope That Lay There, And Returning, Bound Her Arms Behind Her At The 
 Hands And Wrists.  The   Rope Cut Deep Through The   Skin--The Pain 
 Restored Her To Her Senses; She Suffered The   Sharp Agony In Her Own 
 Body, In The   Same Place Where She Had Inflicted It On The   Young 
 Chieftain At The   Farm-House Beyond The   Suburbs. 
   
   
   
 The Minute After, She Felt Herself Dragged Along The   Ground, Farther 
 Into The   Interior Of   The   Building. The   Madman Drew Her Up To The   Iron 
 Gates Of   The   Passage Through The   Partition, And Fastening The   End Of 
 The Rope To Them, Left Her There.  This Part Of   The   Temple Was 
 Enveloped In Total Darkness--Her Assailant Addressed Not A Word To 
 Her--She Could Not Obtain Even A Glimpse Of   His Form, But She Could 
 Hear Him Still Laughing To Himself In Hoarse, Monotonous Tones, That 
 Sounded Now Near, And Now Distant Again. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 183 
 She Abandoned Herself As Lost--Prematurely Devoted To The   Torment And 
 Death That She Had Anticipated; But, As Yet, Her Masculine Resolution 
 And Energy Did Not Decline.  The   Very Intensity Of   The   Anguish She 
 Suffered From The   Bindings At Her Wrists, Producing A Fierce Bodily 
 Effort To Resist It, Strengthened Her Iron-Strung Nerves.  She Neither 
 Cried For Help Nor Appealed To The   Pagan For Pity. The   Gloomy Fatalism 
 Which She Had Inherited From Her Savage Ancestors Sustained Her In A 
 Suicide-Pride. 
   
   
   
 Ere Long The   Laughter Of   Ulpius, While He Moved Slowly Hither And 
 Thither In The   Darkness Of   The   Temple, Was Overpowered By The   Sound Of 
 Her Voice--Deep, Groaning, But Yet Steady--As She Uttered Her Last 
 Words--Words Poured Forth Like The   Wild Dirges, The   Fierce Death-Songs 
 Of The   Old Goths When They Died Deserted On The   Bloody Battle-Field, Or 
 Were Cast Bound Into Deep Dungeons, A Prey To The   Viper And The   Asp. 
 Thus She Spoke:--  'I Swore To Be Avenged! While I Went Forth From 
 Aquileia With The   Child That Was Killed And The   Child That Was Wounded; 
 While I Climbed The   High Wall In The   Night-Time, And Heard The   Tumult 
 Of The   Beating Waves Near The   Bank Where I Buried The   Dead; While I 
 Wandered In The   Darkness Over The   Naked Heath And Through The   Lonely 
 Forest; While I Climbed The   Pathless Sides Of   The   Mountains, And Made 
 My Refuge In The   Cavern By The   Waters Of   The   Dark Lake. 
   
   
   
 'I Swore To Be Avenged! While The   Warriors Approached Me On Their 
 March, And The   Roaring Of   The   Trumpets And The   Clash Of   The   Armour 
 Sounded In My Ears; While I Greeted My Kinsman, Hermanric, A Mighty 
 Chieftain, At The   King's Side, Among The   Invading Hosts; While I Looked 
 On My Last Child, Dead Like The   Rest, And Knew That He Was Buried Afar 
 From The   Land Of   His People, And From The   Others That The   Romans Had 
 Slain Before Him. 
   
   
   
 'I Swore To Be Avenged! While The   Army Encamped Before Rome, And I 
 Stood With Hermanric, Looking On The   Great Walls In The   Misty Evening; 
 While The   Daughter Of   The   Roman Was A Prisoner In Our Tent, And I Eyed 
 Her As She Lay On My Knees; While For Her Sake My Kinsman Turned 
 Traitor, And Withheld My Hand From The   Blow; While I Passed Unseen Into 
 The Lonely Farm-House To Deal Judgment On Him With My Knife; While I 
 Saw Him Die The   Death Of   A Deserter At My Feet, And Knew That It Was A 
 Roman Who Had Lured Him From His People, And Blinded Him To The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 184 
 Righteousness Of   Revenge. 
   
   
   
 'I Swore To Be Avenged! While I Walked Round The   Grave Of   The   Chieftain 
 Who Was The   Last Of   My Race; While I Stood Alone Out Of   The   Army Of   My 
 People In The   City Of   The   Slayers Of   My Babes; While I  Tracked The 
 Footsteps Of   The   Roman Who Had Twice Escaped Me, As She Fled Through 
 The Street; While I Watched And Was Patient Among The   Pillars Of   The 
 Temple, And Waited Till The   Sun Went Down, And The   Victim Was 
 Unshielded For The   Moment To Strike. 
   
   
   
   
 'I Swore To Be Avenged! And My Oath Has Been Fulfilled--The Knife That 
 Still Bleeds Drops With Her Blood; The   Chief Vengeance Has Been 
 Wreaked! The   Rest That Were To Be Slain Remain For Others, And Not For 
 Me!  For Now I Go To My Husband And My Children; Now The   Hour Is Near 
 At Hand When I Shall Herd With Their Spirits In The   Twilight World Of 
 Shadows, And Make My Long-Abiding Place With Them In The   Valley Of 
 Eternal Repose!  The   Destinies Have Willed It--It Is Enough!' 
   
   
   
 Her Voice Trembled And Grew Faint As She Pronounced The   Last Words. 
 The Anguish Of   The   Fastenings At Her Wrists Was At Last Overpowering 
 Her Senses--Conquering, In Spite Of   All Resistance, Her Stubborn 
 Endurance. For A Little While Yet She Spoke At Intervals, But Her 
 Speech Was Fragmentary And Incoherent.  At One Moment She Still Gloried 
 In Her Revenge, At Another She Exulted In The   Fancied Contemplation Of 
 The Girl's Body Still Lying Before Her, And Her Hands Writhed Beneath 
 Their Bonds In The   Effort To Repossess Themselves Of   The   Knife And 
 Strike Again.  But Soon All Sounds Ceased To Proceed From Her Lips, 
 Save The   Loud, Thick, Irregular Breathings, Which Showed That She Was 
 Yet Conscious And Yet Lived. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile The   Madman Had Passed Into The   Inner Recess Of   The   Temple, 
 And Had Drawn The   Shutter Over The   Opening In The   Wall, Through Which 
 Light Had Been Admitted Into The   Place When Numerian And Antonina First 
 Entered It.  Even The   Black Chasm Formed By The   Mouth Of   The   Vault Of 
 The Dragon Now Disappeared, With All Other Objects, In The   Thick 
 Darkness.  But No Obscurity Could Confuse The   Senses Of   Ulpius In The 
 Temple, Whose Every Corner He Visited In His Restless Wanderings By 
 Night And By Day Alike.  Led As If By A Mysterious Penetration Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 185 
 Sight, He Traced His Way Unerringly To The   Entrance Of   The   Vault, Knelt 
 Down Before It, And Placing His Hands On The   First Of   The   Steps By 
 Which It Was Descended, Listened, Breathless And Attentive, To The 
 Sounds That Rose From The   Abyss--Listened, Rapt And Unmoving, A 
 Formidable And Unearthly Figure--Like A Magician Waiting For A Voice 
 From The   Oracles Of   Hell--Like A Spirit Of   Night Looking Down Into The 
 Mid-Caverns Of   The   Earth, And Watching The   Mysteries Of   Subterranean 
 Creation, The   Giant Pulses Of   Action And Heat, Which Are The 
 Life-Springs Of   The   Rolling World. 
   
   
   
 The Fitful Wind Whistled Up, Wild And Plaintive; The   River Chafed And 
 Bubbled Through The   Iron Grating Below; The   Loose Scales Of   The   Dragon 
 Clashed As The   Night Breezes Reached Them:  And These Sounds Were Still 
 To Him As The   Language Of   His Gods, Which Filled Him With A Fearful 
 Rapture, And Inspired Him, In The   Terrible Degradation Of   His Being, As 
 With A New Soul.  He Listened And Listened Yet. Fragments Of   Wild 
 Fancies--The Vain Yearnings Of   The   Disinherited Mind To Recover Its 
 Divine Birthright Of   Boundless Thought--Now Thrilled Through Him, And 
 Held Him Still And Speechless Where He Knelt. 
   
   
   
 But At Length, Through The   Gloomy Silence Of   The   Recess, He Heard The 
 Voice Of   Goisvintha Raised Once More, And In Hoarse, Wild Tones Calling 
 Aloud For Light And Help.  The   Agony Of   Pain And Suspense, The   Awful 
 Sense Of   Darkness And Stillness, Of   Solitary Bondage And Slow Torment, 
 Had At Last Effected That Which No Open Peril, No Common Menace Of 
 Violent Death Could Have Produced.  She Yielded To Fear And 
 Despair--Sank Prostrate Under A Paralysing, Superstitious Dread.  The 
 Misery That She Had Inflicted On Others Recoiled In Retribution On 
 Herself, As She Now Shuddered Under The   Consciousness Of   The   First 
 Emotions Of   Helpless Terror That She Had Ever Felt. 
   
   
   
 Ulpius Instantly Rose From The   Vault, And Advanced Straight Through The 
 Darkness To The   Gates Of   The   Partition; But He Passed His Prisoner 
 Without Stopping For An Instant, And Hastening Into The   Outer Apartment 
 Of The   Temple, Began To Grope Over The   Floor For The   Knife Which The 
 Woman Had Dropped When He Bound Her.  He Was Laughing To Himself Once 
 More, For The   Evil Spirit Was Prompting Him To A New Project, Tempting 
 Him To A Pitiless Refinement Of   Cruelty And Deceit. 
   
   
   
 He Found The   Knife, And Returning With It To Goisvintha, Cut The   Rope 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 186 
 That Confined Her Wrists.  Then She Became Silent When The   First 
 Sharpness Of   Her Suffering Was Assuaged; He Whispered Softly In Her 
 Ear, 'Follow Me, And Escape!' 
   
   
   
   
 Bewildered And Daunted By The   Darkness And Mystery Around Her, She 
 Vainly Strained Her Eyes To Look Through The   Obscurity As Ulpius Drew 
 Her On Into The   Recess.  He Placed Her At The   Mouth Of   The   Vault, And 
 Here She Strove To Speak; But Low, Inarticulate Sounds Alone Proceeded 
 From Her Powerless Utterance.  Still There Was No Light; Still The 
 Burning, Gnawing Agony At Her Wrists (Relieved But For An Instant When 
 The Rope Was Cut) Continued And Increased; And Still She Felt The 
 Presence Of   The   Unseen Being At Her Side, Whom No Darkness Could Blind, 
 And Who Bound And Loosed At His Arbitrary Will. 
   
   
   
 By Nature Fierce, Resolute, And Vindictive Under Injury, She Was A 
 Terrible Evidence Of   The   Debasing Power Of   Crime, As She Now Stood, 
 Enfeebled By The   Weight Of   Her Own Avenging Guilt, Upraised To Crush 
 Her In The   Hour Of   Her Pride; By The   Agency Of   Darkness, Whose Perils 
 The Innocent And The   Weak Have Been Known To Brave; By Suspense, Whose 
 Agony They Have Resisted; By Pain, Whose Infliction They Have Endured 
 In Patience. 
   
   
   
 'Go Down, Far Down The   Steep Steps, And Escape!' Whispered The   Madman, 
 In Soft, Beguiling Tones. 'The Darkness Above Leads To The   Light Below! 
 Go Down, Far Down!' 
   
   
   
 He Quitted His Hold Of   Her As He Spoke.  She Hesitated, Shuddered, And 
 Drew Back; But Again She Was Urged Forward, And Again She Heard The 
 Whisper, 'The Darkness Above Leads To The   Light Below!  Go Down, Far 
 Down!' 
   
   
   
 Despair Gave The   Firmness To Proceed, And Dread The   Hope To Escape. 
 Her Wounded Arms Trembled As She Now Stretched Them Out And Felt For 
 The Walls Of   The   Vault On Either Side Of   Her.  The   Horror Of   Death In 
 Utter Darkness, From Unseen Hands, And The   Last Longing Aspiration To 
 Behold The   Light Of   Heaven Once More, Were At Their Strongest Within 
 Her As She Began Slowly And Cautiously To Tread The   Fatal Stairs. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 187 
   
 While She Descended, The   Pagan Dropped Into His Former Attitude At The 
 Month Of   The   Vault, And Listened Breathlessly.  Minutes Seemed To 
 Elapse Between Each Step As She Went Lower And Lower Down.  Suddenly He 
 Heard Her Pause, As If Panic-Stricken In The   Darkness, And Her Voice 
 Ascended To Him, Groaning, 'Light! Light! Oh, Where Is The   Light!'  He 
 Rose Up, And Stretched Out His Hands To Hurl Her Back If She Should 
 Attempt To Return; But She Descended Again.  Twice He Heard Her Heavy 
 Footfall On The   Steps--Then There Was An Interval Of   Deep Silence--Then 
 A Sharp, Grinding Clash Of   Metal Echoed Piercingly Through The   Vault, 
 Followed By The   Noise Of   A Dull, Heavy Fall, Faintly Audible Far 
 Beneath--And Then The   Old Familiar Sounds Of   The   Place Were Heard 
 Again, And Were Not Interrupted More.  The   Sacrifice To The   Dragon Was 
 Achieved! 
   
   
   
       *      *      *      *      * 
   
   
   
 The Madman Stood On The   Steps Of   The   Sacred Building, And Looked Out On 
 The Street Shining Before Him In The   Bright Italian Moonlight.  No 
 Remembrance Of   Numerian And Antonina, And Of   The   Earlier Events In The 
 Temple, Remained Within Him.  He Was Pondering Imperfectly, In Vague 
 Pride And Triumph, Over The   Sacrifice That He Had Offered Up At The 
 Shrine Of   The   Dragon Of   Brass.  Thus Secretly Exulting, He Now Remained 
 Inactive.  Absorbed In His Wandering Meditations, He Delayed To Trace 
 The Subterranean Passages Leading To The   Iron Grating Where The   Corpse 
 Of Goisvintha Lay Washed By The   Waters, As They Struggled Onward 
 Through The   Bars, And Waiting But His Hand To Be Cast Into The   River, 
 Where All Past Sacrifices Had Been Engulphed Before It. 
   
   
   
 His Tall Solitary Figure Was Lit By The   Moonlight Streaming Through The 
 Pillars Of   The   Portico; His Loose Robes Waved Slowly About Him In The 
 Wind, As He Stood Firm And Erect Before The   Door Of   The   Temple: He 
 Looked More Like The   Spectral Genius Of   Departed Paganism Than A Living 
 Man.  But, Lifeless Though He Seemed, His Quick Eye Was Still On The 
 Watch, Still Directed By The   Restless Suspicion Of   Insanity. Minute 
 After Minute Quietly Elapsed, And As Yet Nothing Was Presented To His 
 Rapid Observation But The   Desolate Roadway, And The   High, Gloomy Houses 
 That Bounded It On Either Side.  It Was Soon, However, Destined To Be 
 Attracted By Objects Which Startled The   Repose Of   The   Tranquil Street 
 With The   Tumult Of   Action And Life. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 188 
   
   
   
 He Was Still Gazing Earnestly On The   Narrow View Before Him, Vaguely 
 Imagining To Himself, The   While, Goisvintha's Fatal Descent Into The 
 Vault, And Thinking Triumphantly Of   Her Dead Body That Now Lay On The 
 Grating Beneath It, When A Red Glare Of   Torchlight, Thrown Wildly On 
 The Moon-Brightened Pavement, Whose Purity It Seemed To Stain, Caught 
 His Eye. 
   
   
   
 The Light Appeared At The   End Of   The   Street Leading From The   More 
 Central Portion Of   The   City, And Ere Long Displayed Clearly A Body Of 
 Forty Or Fifty People Advancing Towards The   Temple.  The   Pagan Looked 
 Eagerly On Them As They Came Nearer And Nearer.  The   Assembly Was 
 Composed Of   Priests, Soldiers, And Citizens--The Priests Bearing 
 Torches, The   Soldiers Carrying Hammers, Crowbars, And Other Similar 
 Tools, Or Bending Under The   Weight Of   Large Chests Secured With Iron 
 Fastenings, Close To Which The   Populace Walked, As If Guarding Them 
 With Jealous Care.  This Strange Procession Was Preceded By Two Men, 
 Who Were Considerably In Advance Of   It--A Priest And Soldier.  An 
 Expression Of   Impatience And Exultation Appeared On Their Pale, 
 Famine-Wasted Countenances, As They Approached The   Temple With Rapid 
 Steps. 
   
   
   
 Ulpius Never Moved From His Position, But Fixed His Piercing Eyes On 
 Them As They Advanced.  Not Vainly Did He Now Stand, Watchful And 
 Menacing, Before The   Entrance Of   His Gloomy Shrine.  He Had Seen The 
 First Degradations Heaped On Fallen Paganism, And He Was Now To See The 
 Last.  He Had Immolated All His Affections And All His Hopes, All His 
 Faculties Of   Body And Mind, His Happiness In Boyhood, His Enthusiasm In 
 Youth, His Courage In Manhood, His Reason In Old Age, At The   Altar Of 
 His Gods; And Now They Were To Exact From Him, In Their Defence, Lonely 
 Criminal, Maddened, As He Already Was In Their Cause, More Than All 
 This!  The   Decree Had Gone Forth From The   Senate Which Devoted To 
 Legalised Pillage The   Treasures In The   Temples Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 Rulers Of   A People Impoverished By Former Exactions, And Comptrollers 
 Only Of   An Exhausted Treasury, The   Government Of   The   City Had Searched 
 Vainly Among All Ordinary Resources For The   Means Of   Paying The   Heavy 
 Ransom Exacted By Alaric As The   Price Of   Peace.  The   One Chance Of 
 Meeting The   Emergency That Remained Was To Strip The   Pagan Temples Of 
 The Mass Of   Jewelled Ornaments And Utensils, The   Costly Robes, The 
 Idols Of   Gold And Silver Which They Were Known To Contain, And Which, 
 Under That Mysterious Hereditary Influence Of   Superstition, Whose Power 
 It Is The   Longest Labour Of   Truth To Destroy, Had Remained Untouched 
 And Respected, Alike By The   People And The   Senate, After The   Worship 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 189 
 That They Represented Had Been Interdicted By The   Laws, And Abandoned 
 By The   Nation. 
   
   
   
 This Last Expedient For Freeing Rome From The   Blockade Was Adopted 
 Almost As Soon As Imagined.  The   Impatience Of   The   Starved Populace For 
 The Immediate Collection Of   The   Ransom Allowed The   Government Little 
 Time For The   Tedious Preliminaries Of   Deliberation.  The   Soldiers Were 
 Provided At Once With The   Necessary Implements For The   Task Imposed On 
 Them; Certain Chosen Members Of   The   Senate And The   People Followed 
 Them, To See That They Honestly Gathered In The   Public Spoil; And The 
 Priests Of   The   Christian Churches Volunteered To Hallow The   Expedition 
 By Their Presence, And Led The   Way With Their Torches Into Every Secret 
 Apartment Of   The   Temples Where Treasure Might Be Contained. At The 
 Close Of   The   Day, Immediately After It Had Been Authorised, This 
 Strange Search For The   Ransom Was Hurriedly Commenced.  Already Much 
 Had Been Collected; Votive Offerings Of   Price Had Been Snatched From 
 The Altars, Where They Had So Long Hung Undisturbed; Hidden 
 Treasure-Chests Of   Sacred Utensils Had Been Discovered And Broken Open; 
 Idols Had Been Stripped Of   Their Precious Ornaments And Torn From Their 
 Massive Pedestals; And Now The   Procession Of   Gold-Seekers, Proceeding 
 Along The   Banks Of   The   Tiber, Had Come In Sight Of   The   Little Temple Of 
 Serapis, And Were Hastening Forward To Empty It, In Its Turn, Of   Every 
 Valuable That It Contained. 
   
   
   
 The Priest And The   Soldier, Calling To Their Companions Behind To Hurry 
 On, Had Now Arrived Opposite The   Temple Steps, And Saw Confronting Them 
 In The   Pale Moonlight, From The   Eminence On Which He Stood, The   Weird 
 And Solitary Figure Of   Ulpius--The Apparition Of   A Pagan In The 
 Gorgeous Robes Of   His Priesthood, Bidden Back From The   Tombs To Stay 
 The Hand Of   The   Spoiler Before The   Shrine Of   His Gods. 
   
   
   
 The Soldier Dropped His Weapon To The   Ground, And, Trembling In Every 
 Limb, Refused To Proceed. But The   Priest, A Tall, Stern, Emaciated Man, 
 Went On Defenceless And Undaunted.  He Signed Himself Solemnly With The 
 Cross As He Slowly Ascended The   Steps; Fixed His Unflinching Eyes On 
 The Madman, Who Glared Back On Him In Return; And Called Aloud In A 
 Harsh, Steady Voice:  'Man Or Demon! In The   Name Of   Christ, Whom Thou 
 Deniest, Stand Back!' 
   
   
   
 For An Instant, As The   Priest Approached Him, The   Pagan Averted His 
 Eyes And Looked On The   Concourse Of   People And The   Armed Soldiers 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 190 
 Rapidly Advancing.  His Fingers Closed Round The   Hilt Of   Goisvintha's 
 Knife, Which He Had Hitherto Held Loosely In His Hand, As He Exclaimed 
 In Low, Concentrated Tones, 'Aha! The   Siege--The Siege Of   Serapis!' 
 The Priest, Now Standing On The   Same Step With Him, Stretched Out His 
 Arm To Thrust Him Back, And At That Moment Received The   Stroke Of   The 
 Knife.  He Staggered, Lifted His Hand Again To Sign His Forehead With 
 The Cross, And, As He Raised It, Rolled Back Dead On The   Pavement Of 
 The Street. 
   
   
   
 The Soldier, Standing Motionless With Superstitious Terror A Few Feet 
 From The   Corpse, Called To His Companions For Help.  Hurling His Bloody 
 Weapon At Them In Defiance, As They Ran In Confusion To The   Base Of   The 
 Temple Steps, Ulpius Entered The   Building, And Locked And Chained The 
 Gates. 
   
   
   
 Then The   Assembled People Thronging Round The   Corpse Of   The   Priest, 
 Heard The   Madman Shouting In His Frenzy, As If To A Great Body Of 
 Adherents Round Him, To Pour Down The   Molten Lead And The   Scorching 
 Sand; To Hurl Back Every Scaling Ladder Planted Against The   Walls; To 
 Massacre Each Prisoner Who Was Seized Mounting The   Ramparts To The 
 Assault; And As They Looked Up To The   Building From The   Street, They 
 Saw At Intervals, Through The   Bars Of   The   Closed Gates, The   Figure Of 
 Ulpius Passing Swift And Shadowy, His Arms Extended, His Long Grey Hair 
 And White Robes Streaming Behind Him, As He Rushed Round And Round The 
 Temple Reiterating His Wild Pagan War-Cries As He Went.  The   Enfeebled, 
 Superstitious Populace Trembled While They Gazed--A Spectre Driven On A 
 Whirlwind Would Not Have Been More Terrible To Their Eyes. 
   
   
   
 But The   Priest Among The   Crowd, Roused To Fury By The   Murder Of   One Of 
 Their Own Body, Revived The   Courage Of   Those Around Them.  Even The 
 Shouts Of   Ulpius Were Now Overpowered By The   Sound Of   Their Voices, 
 Raised To The   Highest Pitch, Promising Heavenly And Earthly 
 Rewards--Salvation, Money, Absolution, Promotion--To All Who Would 
 Follow Them Up The   Steps And Burst Their Way Into The   Temple.  Animated 
 By The   Words Of   The   Priests, And Growing Gradually Confident In Their 
 Own Numbers, The   Boldest In The   Throng Seized A Piece Of   Timber Lying 
 By The   River Side, And Using It As A Battering-Ram, Assailed The   Gate. 
 But They Were Weakened With Famine; They Could Gain Little Impetus, 
 From The   Necessity Of   Ascending The   Temple Steps To The   Attack; The 
 Iron Quivered As They Struck It, But Hinge And Lock Remained Firm 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 191 
 Alike.  They Were Preparing To Renew The   Attempt, When A Tremendous 
 Shock--A Crash As If The   Whole Heavy Roof Of   The   Building Had Fallen 
 In--Drove Them Back In Terror To The   Street. 
   
   
   
 Recalled By The   Sight Of   The   Armed Men, The   Priests And The   Attendant 
 Crowd Of   People Who Were Advancing To Invade His Sanctuary, To The   Days 
 When He Had Defended The   Great Temple Of   Serapis At Alexandria, Against 
 Enemies Similar In Appearance, Though Far Superior In Numbers; 
 Persuaded In The   Revival Of   These, The   Most Sanguinary Visions Of   His 
 Insanity, That He Was Still Resisting The   Christian Fanatics, Supported 
 By His Adherents In His Sacred Fortress Of   Former Years, The   Pagan 
 Displayed None Of   His Accustomed Cunning And Care In Moving Through The 
 Darkness Around Him.  He Hurried Hither And Thither, Encouraging His 
 Imaginary Followers, And Glorying In His Dreams Of   Slaughter And 
 Success, Forgetful In His Frenzy Of   All That The   Temple Contained. 
   
   
   
   
 As He Pursued His Wild Course Round And Round The   Altar Of   Idols, His 
 Robe Became Entangled, And Was Torn By The   Projecting Substances At One 
 Corner Of   It.  The   Whole Overhanging Mass Tottered At The   Moment, But 
 Did Not Yet Fall.  A Few Of   The   Smaller Idols, However, At The   Outside 
 Dropped To The   Ground, And With Them An Image Of   Serapis, Which They 
 Happened Partially To Support--A Heavy Monstrous Figure, Carved 
 Life-Size In Wood, And Studded With Gold, Silver, And Precious 
 Stones--Fell At The   Pagan's Feet.  But This Was All--The Outer 
 Materials Of   The   Perilous Structure Had Been Detached Only At One 
 Point; The   Pile Itself Still Remained In Its Place. 
   
   
   
 The Madman Seized The   Image Of   Serapis In His Arms, And Passed Blindly 
 Onward With It Through The   Passage In The   Partition Into The   Recess 
 Beyond.  At That Instant The   Shock Of   The   First Attack On The   Gates 
 Resounded Through The   Building.  Shouting, As He Heard It, 'A Sally! A 
 Sally! Men Of   The   Temple, The   Gods And The   High Priest Lead You On!' 
 And Still Holding The   Idol Before Him, He Rushed Straight Forward To 
 The Entrance, And Struck In Violent Collision Against The   Backward Part 
 Of The   Pile. 
   
   
   
 The Ill-Balanced, Top-Heavy Mass Of   Images And Furniture Of   Many 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 192 
 Temples Swayed, Parted, And Fell Over Against The   Gates And The   Wall On 
 Either Side Of   Them.  Maimed And Bleeding, Struck Down By The   Lower 
 Part Of   The   Pile, As It Was Forced Back Against The   Partition When The 
 Upper Part Fell, The   Fury Of   Ulpius Was But Increased By The   Crashing 
 Ruin Around Him.  He Struggled Up Again Into An Erect Position; Mounted 
 On The   Top Of   The   Fallen Mass--Now Spread Out At The   Sides Over The 
 Floor Of   The   Building, But Confined At One End By The   Partition, And At 
 The Other By The   Opposite Wall And The   Gates--And Still Clasping The 
 Image Of   Serapis In His Arms, Called Louder And Louder To 'The Men Of 
 The Temple' To Mount With Him The   Highest Ramparts And Pour Down On The 
 Besiegers The   Molten Lead! 
   
   
   
 The Priests Were Again The   First Men To Approach The   Gates Of   The 
 Building After The   Shock That Had Been Heard Within It.  The   Struggle 
 For The   Possession Of   The   Temple Had Assumed To Them The   Character Of   A 
 Holy Warfare Against Heathenism And Magic--A Sacred Conflict To Be 
 Sustained By The   Church, For The   Sake Of   Her Servant Who Had Fallen A 
 Martyr At The   Outset Of   The   Strife.  Strong In Their Fanatical 
 Boldness, They Advanced With One Accord Close To The   Gates.  Some Of 
 The Smaller Images Of   The   Fallen Pile Had Been Forced Through The   Bars, 
 Behind Which Appeared The   Great Idols, The   Broken Masses Of   Furniture, 
 The Long Robes And Costly Hangings, All Locked Together In Every Wild 
 Variety Of   Position--A Chaos Of   Distorted Objects Heaped Up By An 
 Earthquake! Above And Further Inward, The   Lower Part Of   The   Pagan's 
 Robe Was Faintly Discernible Through The   Upper Interstices In The   Gate, 
 As He Stood, Commanding, On The   Summit Of   His Prostrate Altar, With His 
 Idol In His Arms. 
   
   
   
 The Priests Felt An Instant Conviction Of   Certain Triumph When They 
 Discerned The   Cause Of   The   Shock That Had Been Heard Within The   Temple. 
 One Of   Their Number Snatched Up A Small Image That Had Fallen Through 
 To The   Pavement Where He Stood, And Holding It Before The   People Below, 
 Exclaimed Exultingly-- 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 193 
 'Children Of   The   Church! The   Mystery Is Revealed!  Idols More Precious 
 Than This Lie By Hundreds On The   Floor Of   The   Temple!  It Is No Demon, 
 But A Man, One Man, Who Still Defies Us Within!--A Robber Who Would 
 Defraud The   Romans Of   The   Ransom Of   Their Lives!--The Pillage Of   Many 
 Temples Is Around Him.  Remember Now, That The   Nearer We Came To This 
 Place The   Fewer Were The   Spoils Of   Idolatry That We Gathered In; The 
 Treasure Which Is Yours, The   Treasure Which Is To Free You From The 
 Famine, Has Been Seized By The   Assassin Of   Our Holy Brother; It Is 
 There Scattered At His Feet!  To The   Gates!  To The   Gates Again! 
 Absolution For All Their Sins To The   Men Who Burst In The   Gates!' 
   
   
   
 Again The   Mass Of   Timber Was Taken Up; Again The   Gates Were Assailed; 
 And Again They Stood Firm--They Were Now Strengthened, Barricaded By 
 The Fallen Pile.  It Seemed Hopeless To Attempt To Break Them Down 
 Without A Reinforcement Of   Men, Without Employing Against Them The 
 Heaviest Missiles, The   Strongest Engines Of   War. 
   
   
   
   
 The People Gave Vent To A Cry Of   Fury As They Heard From The   Temple The 
 Hollow Laughter Of   The   Madman Triumphing In Their Defeat.  The   Words Of 
 The Priest, In Allaying Their Superstitious Fears, Had Aroused The 
 Deadly Passions That Superstition Brings Forth.  A Few Among The   Throng 
 Hurried To The   Nearest Guard-House For Assistance, But The   Greater Part 
 Pressed Closely Round The   Temple--Some Pouring Forth Impotent 
 Execrations Against The   Robber Of   The   Public Spoil, Some Joining The 
 Priests In Calling On Him To Yield.  But The   Clamour Lasted Not Long; 
 It Was Suddenly And Strangely Stilled By The   Voice Of   One Man In The 
 Crowd, Calling Loudly To The   Rest To Fire The   Temple! 
   
   
   
 The Words Were Hardly Spoken Ere They Were Repeated Triumphantly On All 
 Sides.  'Fire The   Temple!' Cried The   People Ferociously.  'Burn It Over 
 The Robber's Head!  A Furnace--A Furnace! To Melt Down The   Gold And 
 Silver Ready To Our Hands!  Fire The   Temple!  Fire The   Temple!' 
   
   
   
 Those Who Were Most Active Among The   Crowd (Which Was Now Greatly 
 Increased By Stragglers From All Parts Of   The   City) Entered The   Houses 
 Behind Them, And Returned In A Few Minutes With Every Inflammable 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 194 
 Substance That They Could Collect In Their Hands.  A Heap Of   Fuel, Two 
 Or Three Feet In Height, Was Raised Against The   Gates Immediately, And 
 Soldiers And People Pressed Forward With Torches To Light It.  But The 
 Priest Who Had Before Spoken Waved Them Back.  'Wait!' He Cried; 'The 
 Fate Of   His Body Is With The   People, But The   Fate Of   His Soul Is With 
 The Church!' 
   
   
   
 Then, Turning To The   Temple, He Called Solemnly And Sternly To The 
 Madman, 'Thy Hour Is Come!  Repent, Confess, And Save Thy Soul!' 
   
   
   
 'Slay On! Slay On!' Answered The   Raving Voice From Within.  'Slay, Till 
 Not A Christian Is Left!  Victory! Serapis!  See, They Drop From Our 
 Walls!--They Writhe Bleeding On The   Earth Beneath Us!  There Is No 
 Worship But The   Worship Of   The   Gods!  Slay!  Slay On!' 
   
   
   
 'Light!' Cried The   Priest.  'His Damnation Be On His Own Head! 
 Anathema!  Maranatha!  Let Him Die Accursed!' 
   
   
   
 The Dry Fuel Was Fired At Once At All Points--It Was An Anticipation Of 
 An 'Auto Da Fe', A Burning Of   A Heretic, In The   Fifth Century!  As The 
 Flames Rose, The   People Fell Back And Watched Their Rapid Progress. 
 The Priests, Standing Before Them In A Line, Stretched Out Their Hands 
 In Denunciation Against The   Temple, And Repeated Together The   Awful 
 Excommunication Service Of   The   Roman Church. 
   
   
   
       *      *      *      *      * 
   
   
   
 The Fire At The   Gates Had Communicated With The   Idols Inside.  It Was 
 No Longer On His Prostrate Altar, But On His Funeral Pile That Ulpius 
 Now Stood; And The   Image That He Clasped Was The   Stake To Which He Was 
 Bound.  A Red Glare, Dull At First, Was Now Brightening And Brightening 
 Below Him; Flames, Quick And Noiseless, Rose And Fell, And Rose Again, 
 At Different Points, Illuminating The   Interior Of   The   Temple With 
 Fitful And Changing Light.  The   Grim, Swarthy Forms Of   The   Idols Seemed 
 To Sway And Writhe Like Living Things In Torment, As Fire And Smoke 
 Alternately Displayed And Concealed Them.  A Deadly Stillness Now 
 Overspread The   Face And Form Of   The   Pagan, As He Looked Down 
 Steadfastly On The   Deities Of   His Worship Engendering His Destruction 
 Beneath Him.  His Cheek--The Cheek Which Had Rested In Boyhood On His 
 Mother's Bosom--Was Pressed Against The   Gilded Breast Of   The   God 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 195 
 Serapis, His Taskmaster In Life--His Pillow In Death! 
   
   
   
 'I Rise!  I Rise To The   World Of   Light, With My Deities Whom I Have 
 Served!' He Murmured; 'The Brightness Of   Their Presence Is Like A 
 Flaming Fire; The   Smoke Of   Their Breath Pours Forth Around Me Like The 
 Smoke Of   Incense!  I Minister In The   Temples Of   The   Clouds; And The 
 Glory Of   Eternal Sunlight Shines Round Me While I Adore!  I Rise!  I 
 Rise!' 
   
   
   
 The Smoke Whirled In Black Volumes Over His Head; The   Fierce Voice Of 
 The Fast-Spreading Fire Roared On Him; The   Flames Leapt Up At His 
 Feet--His Robes Kindled, Burst Into Radiant Light, As The   Pile Yawned 
 And Opened Under Him. 
   
   
   
       *      *      *      *      * 
   
   
   
   
 Time Had Passed.  The   Strife Between The   Temple And The   Church Was 
 Ended.  The   Priests And The   People Had Formed A Wider Circle Round The 
 Devoted Building; All That Was Inflammable In It Had Been Burnt; Smoke 
 And Flame Now Burst Only At Intervals Through The   Gates, And Gradually 
 Both Ceased To Appear.  Then The   Crowd Approached Nearer To The   Temple, 
 And Felt The   Heat Of   The   Furnace They Had Kindled, As They Looked In. 
   
   
   
 The Iron Gates Were Red Hot--From The   Great Mass Behind (Still Glowing 
 Bright In Some Places, And Heaving And Quivering With Its Own Heat) A 
 Thin, Transparent Vapour Rose Slowly To The   Stone Roof Of   The   Building, 
 Now Blackened With Smoke.  The   Priests Looked Eagerly For The   Corpse Of 
 The Pagan;  They Saw Two Dark, Charred Objects Closely United Together, 
 Lying In A Chasm Of   Ashes Near The   Gate, At A Spot Where The   Fire Had 
 Already Exhausted Itself, But It Was Impossible To Discern Which Was 
 The Man And Which Was The   Idol. 
   
   
   
 The Necessity Of   Providing Means For Entering The   Temple Had Not Been 
 Forgotten While The   Flames Were Raging.  Proper Implements For Forcing 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 26 ( Retribution ) Pg 196 
 Open The   Gates Were Now At Hand, And Already The   Mob Began To Dip Their 
 Buckets In The   Tiber, And Pour Water Wherever Any Traces Of   The   Fire 
 Remained. Soon All Obstacles Were Removed; The   Soldiers Crowded Into 
 The Building With Spades In Their Hands, Trampled On The   Black, Watery 
 Mire Of   Cinders Which Covered What Had Once Been The   Altar Of   Idols, 
 And Throwing Out Into The   Street The   Refuse Ashes And The   Stone Images 
 Which Had Remained Unconsumed, Dug In What Was Left, As In A New Mine, 
 For The   Gold And Silver Which The   Fire Could Not Destroy. 
   
   
   
 The Pagan Had Lived With His Idols, Had Perished With His Idols!--And 
 Now Where They Were Cast Away, There He Was Cast Away With Them.  The 
 Soldiers, As They Dug Into Fragments The   Black Ruins Of   His Altar, 
 Mingled Him In Fragments With It!  The   People, As They Cast The   Refuse 
 Thrown Out To Them Into The   River, Cast What Remained Of   Him With What 
 Remained Of   His Gods!  And When The   Temple Was Deserted, When The 
 Citizens Had Borne Off All The   Treasure They Could Collect, When 
 Nothing But A Few Heaps Of   Dust Was Left Of   All That Had Been Burnt, 
 The Night-Wind Blew Away Before It The   Ashes Of   Ulpius With The   Ashes 
 Of The   Deities That Ulpius Had Served! 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 197 
 A New Prospect Now Opens Before Us.  The   Rough Paths Through Which We 
 Have Hitherto Threaded Our Way Grow Smoother As We Approach Their 
 Close. Rome, So Long Dark And Gloomy To Our View, Brightens At Length 
 Like A Landscape When The   Rain Is Past And The   First Rays Of   Returning 
 Sunlight Stream Through The   Parting Clouds.  Some Days Have Elapsed, 
 And In Those Days The   Temples Have Yielded All Their Wealth; The 
 Conquered Romans Have Bribed The   Triumphant Barbarians To Mercy; The 
 Ransom Of   The   Fallen City Has Been Paid. 
   
   
   
 The Gothic Army Is Still Encamped Round The   Walls, But The   Gates Are 
 Opened, Markets For Food Are Established In The   Suburbs, Boats Appear 
 On The   River And Waggons On The   Highroads, Laden With Provisions, And 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 198 
 Proceeding Towards Rome.  All The   Hidden Treasure Kept Back By The 
 Citizens Is Now Bartered For Food; The   Merchants Who Hold The   Market 
 Reap A Rich Harvest Of   Spoil, But The   Hungry Are Filled, The   Weak Are 
 Revived, Every One Is Content. 
   
   
   
 It Is The   End Of   The   Second Day Since The   Free Sale Of   Provisions And 
 The Liberty Of   Egress From The   City Have Been Permitted By The   Goths. 
 The Gates Are Closed For The   Night, And The   People Are Quietly 
 Returning, Laden With Their Supplies Of   Food, To Their Homes.  Their 
 Eyes No Longer Encounter The   Terrible Traces Of   The   March Of   Pestilence 
 And Famine Through Every Street; The   Corpses Have Been Removed, And The 
 Sick Are Watched And Sheltered.  Rome Is Cleansed From Her Pollutions, 
 And The   Virtues Of   Household Life Begin To Revive Wherever They Once 
 Existed.  Death Has Thinned Every Family, But The   Survivors Again 
 Assemble Together In The   Social Hall.  Even The   Veriest Criminals, The 
 Lowest Outcasts Of   The   Population, Are United Harmlessly For A While In 
 The General Participation Of   The   First Benefits Of   Peace. 
   
   
   
   
 To Follow The   Citizens To Their Homes; To Trace In Their Thoughts, 
 Words, And Action The   Effect On Them Of   Their Deliverance From The 
 Horrors Of   The   Blockade; To Contemplate In The   People Of   A Whole City, 
 Now Recovering As It Were From A Deep Swoon, The   Varying Forms Of   The 
 First Reviving Symptoms In All Classes, In Good And Bad, Rich And 
 Poor--Would Afford Matter Enough In Itself For A Romance Of   Searching 
 Human Interest, For A Drama Of   The   Passions, Moving Absorbingly Through 
 Strange, Intricate, And Contrasted Scenes.  But Another Employment Than 
 This Now Claims Our Care.  It Is To An Individual, And Not To A Divided 
 Source Of   Interest, That Our Attention Turns; We Relinquish All 
 Observations On The   General Mass Of   The   Populace To Revert To Numerian 
 And Antonina Alone--To Penetrate Once More Into The   Little Dwelling On 
 The Pincian Hill. 
   
   
   
 The Apartment Where The   Father And Daughter Had Suffered The   Pangs Of 
 Famine Together During The   Period Of   The   Blockade, Presented An 
 Appearance Far Different From That Which It Had Displayed On The 
 Occasion When They Had Last Occupied It.  The   Formerly Bare Walls Were 
 Now Covered With Rich, Thick Hangings; And The   Simple Couch And Scanty 
 Table Of   Other Days Had Been Exchanged For Whatever Was Most Luxurious 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 199 
 And Complete In The   Household Furniture Of   The   Age.  At One End Of   The 
 Room Three Women, Attended By A Little Girl, Were Engaged In Preparing 
 Some Dishes Of   Fruit And Vegetables; At The   Other, Two Men Were 
 Occupied In Low, Earnest Conversation, Occasionally Looking Round 
 Anxiously To A Couch Placed Against The   Third Side Of   The   Apartment, On 
 Which Antonina Lay Extended, While Numerian Watched By Her In Silence. 
 The Point Of   Goisvintha's Knife Had Struck Deep, But, As Yet, The   Fatal 
 Purpose Of   The   Assassination Had Failed. 
   
   
   
 The Girl's Eyes Were Closed; Her Lips Were Parted In The   Languor Of 
 Suffering; One Of   Her Hands Lay Listless On Her Father's Knee.  A 
 Slight Expression Of   Pain, Melancholy In Its Very Slightness, Appeared 
 On Her Pale Face, And Occasionally A Long-Drawn, Quivering Breath 
 Escaped Her--Nature's Last Touching Utterance Of   Its Own Feebleness! 
 The Old Man, As He Sat By Her Side, Fixed On Her A Wistful, Inquiring 
 Glance.  Sometimes He Raised His Hand, And Gently And Mechanically 
 Moved To And Fro The   Long Locks Of   Her Hair, As They Spread Over The 
 Head Of   The   Couch; But He Never Turned To Communicate With The   Other 
 Persons In The   Room--He Sat As If He Saw Nothing Save His Daughter's 
 Figure Stretched Before Him, And Heard Nothing Save The   Faint, 
 Fluttering Sound Of   Her Breathing, Close At His Ear. 
   
   
   
 It Was Now Dark, And One Lamp Hanging From The   Ceiling Threw A Soft 
 Equal Light Over The   Room.  The   Different Persons Occupying It 
 Presented But Little Evidence Of   Health And Strength In Their 
 Countenances, To Contrast Them In Appearance With The   Wounded Girl; All 
 Had Undergone The   Wasting Visitation Of   The   Famine, And All Were Pale 
 And Languid, Like Her.  A Strange, Indescribable Harmony Prevailed Over 
 The Scene.  Even The   Calmness Of   Absorbing Expectation And Trembling 
 Hope, Expressed In The   Demeanour Of   Numerian, Seemed Reflected In The 
 Actions Of   Those Around Him, In The   Quietness With Which The   Women 
 Pursued Their Employment, In The   Lower And Lower Whispers In Which The 
 Men Continued Their Conversation.  There Was Something Pervading The 
 Air Of   The   Whole Apartment That Conveyed A Sense Of   The   Solemn, 
 Unworldly Stillness Which We Attach To The   Abstract Idea Of   Religion. 
   
   
   
 Of The   Two Men Cautiously Talking Together, One Was The   Patrician, 
 Vetranio; The   Other, A Celebrated Physician Of   Rome. 
   
   
   
 Both The   Countenance And Manner Of   The   Senator Gave Melancholy Proof 
 That The   Orgie At His Palace Had Altered Him For The   Rest Of   His Life. 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 200 
 He Looked What He Was, A Man Changed For Ever In Constitution And 
 Character.  A Fixed Expression Of   Anxiety And Gloom Appeared In His 
 Eyes; His Emaciated Face Was Occasionally Distorted By A Nervous, 
 Involuntary Contraction Of   The   Muscles; It Was Evident That The 
 Paralysing Effect Of   The   Debauch Which Had Destroyed His Companions 
 Would Remain With Him To The   End Of   His Existence.  No Remnant Of   His 
 Careless Self-Possession, His Easy, Patrician Affability, Appeared In 
 His Manner, As He Now Listened To His Companion's Conversation; Years 
 Seemed To Have Been Added To His Life Since He Had Headed The   Table At 
 'The Banquet Of   Famine'. 
   
   
   
   
 'Yes,' Said The   Physician, A Cold, Calm Man, Who Spoke Much, But 
 Pronounced All His Words With Emphatic Deliberation,--'Yes, As I Have 
 Already Told You, The   Wound In Itself Was Not Mortal.  If The   Blade Of 
 The Knife Had Entered Near The   Centre Of   The   Neck, She Must Have Died 
 When She Was Struck. But It Passed Outwards And Backwards; The   Large 
 Vessels Escaped, And No Vital Part Has Been Touched.' 
   
   
   
 'And Yet You Persist In Declaring That You Doubt Her Recovery!' 
 Exclaimed Vetranio, In Low, Mournful Tones. 
   
   
   
 'I Do,' Pursued The   Physician.  'She Must Have Been Exhausted In Mind 
 And Body When She Received The   Blow--I Have Watched Her Carefully; I 
 Know It!  There Is Nothing Of   The   Natural Health And Strength Of   Youth 
 To Oppose The   Effects Of   The   Wound.  I Have Seen The   Old Die From 
 Injuries That The   Young Recover, Because Life In Them Was Losing Its 
 Powers Of   Resistance; She Is In The   Position Of   The   Old!' 
   
   
   
 'They Have Died Before Me, And She Will Die Before Me!  I Shall Lose 
 All--All!' Sighed Vetranio Bitterly To Himself. 
   
   
   
 'The Resources Of   Our Art Are Exhausted,' Continued The   Other; 'Nothing 
 Remains But To Watch Carefully And Wait Patiently.  The   Chances Of   Life 
 Or Death Will Be Decided In A Few Hours; They Are Equally Balanced Now.' 
   
   
   
 'I Shall Lose All!--All!' Repeated The   Senator Mournfully, As If He 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 201 
 Heeded Not The   Last Words. 
   
   
   
 'If She Dies,' Said The   Physician, Speaking In Warmer Tones, For He Was 
 Struck With Pity, In Spite Of   Himself, At The   Spectacle Of   Vetranio's 
 Utter Dejection, 'If She Dies, You Can At Least Remember That All That 
 Could Be Done To Secure Her Life Has Been Done By You.  Her Father, 
 Helpless In His Lethargy And His Age, Was Fitted Only To Sit And Watch 
 Her, As He Has Sat And Watched Her Day After Day; But You Have Spared 
 Nothing, Forgotten Nothing.  Whatever I Have Asked For, That You Have 
 Provided; The   Hangings Round The   Room, And The   Couch That She Lies On, 
 Are Yours; The   First Fresh Supplies Of   Nourishment From The 
 Newly-Opened Markets Were Brought Here From You; I Told You That She 
 Was Thinking Incessantly Of   What She Had Suffered, That It Was 
 Necessary To Preserve Her Against Her Own Recollections, That The 
 Presence Of   Women About Her Might Do Good, That A Child Appearing 
 Sometimes In The   Room Might Soothe Her Fancy, Might Make Her Look At 
 What Was Passing, Instead Of   Thinking Of   What Had Passed--You Found 
 Them, And Sent Them!  I Have Seen Parents Less Anxious For Their 
 Children, Lovers For Their Mistresses, Than You For This Girl.' 
   
   
   
 'My Destiny Is With Her,' Interrupted Vetranio, Looking Round 
 Superstitiously To The   Frail Form On The   Couch.  'I Know Nothing Of   The 
 Mysteries That The   Christians Call Their "Faith", But I Believe Now In 
 The Soul; I Believe That One Soul Contains The   Fate Of   Another, And 
 That Her Soul Contains The   Fate Of   Mine!' 
   
   
   
 The Physician Shook His Head Derisively.  His Calling Had Determined 
 His Philosophy--He Was As Ardent A Materialist As Epicurus Himself. 
   
   
   
 'Listen,' Said Vetranio; 'Since I First Saw Her, A Change Came Over My 
 Whole Being; It Was As If Her Life Was Mingled With Mine!  I Had No 
 Influence Over Her, Save An Influence For Ill:  I Loved Her, And She 
 Was Driven Defenceless From Her Home!  I Sent My Slaves To Search Rome 
 Night And Day; I Exerted All My Power, I Lavished My Wealth To Discover 
 Her; And, For The   First Time In This One Effort, I Failed In What I Had 
 Undertaken.  I Felt That Through Me She Was Lost--Dead!  Days Passed 
 On; Life Weighed Weary On Me; The   Famine Came.  You Know In What Way I 
 Determined That My Career Should Close; The   Rumour Of   The   Banquet Of 
 Famine Reached You As It Reached Others!' 
   
   
   
 'It Did,' Replied The   Physician.  'And I See Before Me In Your Face,' 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 202 
 He Added, After A Momentary Pause, 'The Havoc Which That Ill-Omened 
 Banquet Has Worked.  My Friend, Be Advised!--Abandon For Ever The 
 Turmoil Of   Your Roman Palace, And Breathe In Tranquillity The   Air Of   A 
 Country Home.  The   Strength You Once Had Is Gone Never To Return--If 
 You Would Yet Live, Husband What Is Still Left.' 
   
   
   
   
 'Hear Me,' Pursued Vetranio, In Low, Gloomy Tones.  'I Stood Alone In 
 My Doomed Palace; The   Friends Whom I Had Tempted To Their Destruction 
 Lay Lifeless Around Me; The   Torch Was In My Hand That Was To Light Our 
 Funeral Pile, To Set Us Free From The   Loathsome World!  I Approached 
 Triumphantly To Kindle The   Annihilating Flames, When She Stood Before 
 Me--She, Whom I Had Sought As Lost And Mourned As Dead!  A Strong Hand 
 Seemed To Wrench The   Torch From Me; It Dropped To The   Ground!  She 
 Departed Again; But I Was Powerless To Take It Up; Her Look Was Still 
 Before Me; Her Face, Her Figure, She Herself, Appeared Ever Watching 
 Between The   Torch And Me!' 
   
   
   
 'Lower!--Speak Lower!' Interrupted The   Physician, Looking On The 
 Senator's Agitated Features With Unconcealed Astonishment And Pity. 
 'You Retard Your Own Recovery,--You Disturb The   Girl's Repose By 
 Discourse Such As This.' 
   
   
   
 'The Officers Of   The   Senate,' Continued Vetranio, Sadly Resuming His 
 Gentler Tones, 'When They Entered The   Palace, Found Me Still Standing 
 On The   Place Where We Had Met!  Days Passed On Again; I Stood Looking 
 Out Upon The   Street, And Thought Of   My Companions Whom I Had Lured To 
 Their Death, And Of   My Oath To Partake Their Fate, Which I Had Never 
 Fulfilled.  I Would Have Driven My Dagger To My Heart; But Her Face Was 
 Yet Before Me, My Hands Were Bound!  In That Hour I Saw Her For The 
 Second Time; Saw Her Carried Past Me--Wounded, Assassinated!  She Had 
 Saved Me Once; She Had Saved Me Twice! I Knew That Now The   Chance Was 
 Offered Me, After Having Wrought Her Ill, To Work Her Good; After 
 Failing To Discover Her When She Was Lost, To Succeed In Saving Her 
 When She Was Dying; After Having Survived The   Deaths Of   My Friends At 
 My Own Table, To Survive To See Life Restored Under My Influence, As 
 Well As Destroyed!  These Were My Thoughts; These Are My Thoughts 
 Still--Thoughts Felt Only Since I Saw Her!  Do You Know Now Why I 
 Believe That Her Soul Contains The   Fate Of   Mine?  Do You See Me, 
 Weakened, Shattered, Old Before My Time; My Friends Lost, My Fresh 
 Feelings Of   Youth Gone For Ever; And Can You Not Now Comprehend That 
 Her Life Is My Life?--That If She Dies, The   One Good Purpose Of   My 
 Existence Is Blighted?--That I Lose All I Have Henceforth To Live 
 For?--All, All!' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 203 
 As He Pronounced The   Concluding Words, The   Girl's Eyes Half Unclosed, 
 And Turned Languidly Towards Her Father.  She Made An Effort To Lift 
 Her Hand Caressingly From His Knee To His Neck; But Her Strength Was 
 Unequal Even To This Slight Action.  The   Hand Was Raised Only A Few 
 Inches Ere It Sank Back Again To Its Old Position; A Tear Rolled Slowly 
 Over Her Cheek As She Closed Her Eyes Again, But She Never Spoke. 
   
   
   
 'See,' Said The   Physician, Pointing To Her, 'The Current Of   Life Is At 
 Its Lowest Ebb!  If It Flows Again, It Must Flow To-Night.' 
   
   
   
 Vetranio Made No Answer; He Dropped Down On The   Seat Near Him, And 
 Covered His Face With His Robe. 
   
   
   
 The Physician, Beholding The   Senator's Situation, And Reflecting On The 
 Strange Hurriedly-Uttered Confession Which Had Just Been Addressed To 
 Him, Began To Doubt Whether The   Scenes Through Which His Patron Had 
 Lately Passed Had Not Affected His Brain.  Philosopher Though He Was, 
 The Man Of   Science Had Never Observed The   Outward Symptoms Of   The   First 
 Working Of   Good And Pure Influences In Elevating A Degraded Mind; He 
 Had Never Watched The   Denoting Signs Of   Speech And Action Which Mark 
 The Progress Of   Mental Revolution While The   Old Nature Is Changing For 
 The New; Such Objects Of   Contemplation Existed Not For Him.  He Gently 
 Touched Vetranio On The   Shoulder. 'Rise,' Said He, 'And Let Us Depart. 
 Those Are Around Her Who Can Watch Her Best.  Nothing Remains For Us 
 But To Wait And Hope.  With The   Earliest Morning We Will Return.' 
   
   
   
 He Delivered A Few Farewell Directions To One Of   The   Women In 
 Attendance, And Then, Accompanied By The   Senator, Who, Without Speaking 
 Again, Mechanically Rose To Follow Him, Quitted The   Room.  After This, 
 The Silence Was Only Interrupted By The   Sound Of   An Occasional Whisper, 
 And Of   Quick, Light Footsteps Passing Backwards And Forwards.  Then The 
 Cooling, Reviving Draughts Which Had Been Prepared For The   Night Were 
 Poured Ready Into The   Cups; And The   Women Approached Numerian, As If To 
 Address Him, But He Waved His Hand Impatiently When He Saw Them; And 
 Then They Too, In Their Turn, Departed, To Wait In An Adjoining 
 Apartment Until They Should Be Summoned Again. 
   
   
   
   
 Nothing Changed In The   Manner Of   The   Father When He Was Left Alone In 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 204 
 The Chamber Of   Sickness, Which The   Lapse Of   A Few Hours Might Convert 
 Into The   Chamber Of   Death.  He Sat Watching Antonina, And Touching The 
 Outspread Locks Of   Her Hair From Time To Time, As Had Been His Wont. 
 It Was A Fair, Starry Night; The   Fresh Air Of   The   Soft Winter Climate 
 Of The   South Blew Gently Over The   Earth, The   Great City Was Sinking 
 Fast Into Tranquillity, Calling Voices Were Sometimes Heard Faintly 
 From The   Principal Streets, And The   Distant Noises Of   Martial Music 
 Sounded Cheerily From The   Gothic Camp As The   Sentinels Were Posted 
 Along The   Line Of   Watch; But Soon These Noises Ceased, And The 
 Stillness Of   Rome Was As The   Stillness Round The   Couch Of   The   Wounded 
 Girl. 
   
   
   
 Day After Day, And Night After Night, Since The   Assassination In The 
 Temple, Numerian Had Kept The   Same Place By His Daughter's Side.  Each 
 Hour As It Passed Found Him Still Absorbed In His Long Vigil Of   Hope; 
 His Life Seemed Suspended In Its Onward Course By The   One Influence 
 That Now Enthralled It.  At The   Brief Intervals When His Bodily 
 Weariness Overpowered Him On His Melancholy Watch, It Was Observed By 
 Those Around Him That, Even In His Short Dreaming Clumbers, His Face 
 Remained Ever Turned In The   Same Direction, Towards The   Head Of   The 
 Couch, As If Drawn Thither By Some Irresistible Attraction, By Some 
 Powerful Ascendancy, Felt Even Amid The   Deepest Repose Of   Sensation, 
 The Heaviest Fatigue Of   The   Overlaboured Mind, And Worn, Sinking Heart. 
 He Held No Communication, Save By Signs, With The   Friends About Him; He 
 Seemed Neither To Hope, To Doubt, Nor To Despair With Them; All His 
 Faculties Were Strung Up To Vibrate At One Point Only, And Were Dull 
 And Unimpressible In Every Other Direction. 
   
   
   
 But Twice Had He Been Heard To Speak More Than The   Fewest, Simplest 
 Words.  The   First Time, When Antonina Uttered The   Name Of   Goisvintha, 
 On The   Recovery Of   Her Senses After Her Wound, He Answered Eagerly By 
 Reiterated Declarations That There Was Nothing Henceforth To Fear; For 
 He Had Seen The   Assassin Dead Under The   Pagan's Foot On Leaving The 
 Temple.  The   Second Time, When Mention Was Incautiously Made Before Him 
 Of Rumours Circulated Through Rome Of   The   Burning Of   An Unknown Pagan 
 Priest, Hidden In The   Temple Of   Serapis, With Vast Treasures Around 
 Him, The   Old Man Was Seen To Start And Shudder, And Heard To Pray For 
 The Soul That Was Now Waiting Before The   Dread Judgment-Seat; To Murmur 
 About A Vain Restoration And A Discovery Made Too Late; To Mourn Over 
 Horror That Thickened Round Him, Over Hope Fruitlessly Awakened, And 
 Bereavement More Terrible Than Mortal Had Ever Suffered Before; To 
 Entreat That The   Child, The   Last Left Of   All, Might Be Spared--With 
 Many Words More, Which Ran On Themes Like These, And Which Were Counted 
 By All Who Listened To Them But As The   Wanderings Of   A Mind Whose 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 205 
 Higher Powers Were Fatally Prostrated By Feebleness And Grief. 
   
   
   
 One Long Hour Of   The   Night Had Already Passed Away Since Parent And 
 Child Had Been Left Together, And Neither Word Nor Movement Had Been 
 Audible In The   Melancholy Room.  But, As The   Second Hour Began, The 
 Girl's Eyes Unclosed Again, And She Moved Painfully On The   Couch. 
 Accustomed To Interpret The   Significance Of   Her Slightest Actions, 
 Numerian Rose And Brought Her One Of   The   Reviving Draughts That Had 
 Been Left Ready For Use.  After She Had Drunk, When Her Eyes Met Her 
 Father's Fixed On Her In Mute And Mournful Inquiry, Her Lips Closed, 
 And Formed Themselves Into An Expression Which He Remembered They Had 
 Always Assumed When, As A Little Child, She Used Silently To Hold Up 
 Her Face To Him To Be Kissed.  The   Miserable Contrast Between What She 
 Was Now And What She Had Been Them, Was Beyond The   Passive Endurance, 
 The Patient Resignation Of   The   Spirit-Broken Old Man; The   Empty Cup 
 Dropped From His Hands, He Knelt Down By The   Side Of   The   Couch And 
 Groaned Aloud. 
   
   
   
 'O Father! Father!' Cried The   Weak, Plaintive Voice Above Him.  'I Am 
 Dying!  Let Us Remember That Our Time To Be Together Here Grows Shorter 
 And Shorter, And Let Us Pass It As Happily As We Can!' 
   
   
   
 He Raised His Head, And Looked Up At Her, Vacant And Wistful, Forlorn 
 Already, As If The   Death-Parting Was Over. 
   
   
   
   
 'I Have Tried To Live Humbly And Gratefully,' She Sighed Faintly.  'I 
 Have Longed To Do More Good On The   Earth Than I Have Done!  Yet You 
 Will Forgive Me Now, Father, As You Have Always Forgiven Me!  You Have 
 Been Patient With Me All My Life; More Patient Than I Have Ever 
 Deserved! But I Had No Mother To Teach Me To Love You As I Ought, To 
 Teach Me What I Know Now, When My Death Is Near, And Time And 
 Opportunity Are Mine No Longer!' 
   
   
   
 'Hush! Hush!' Whispered The   Old Man Affrightedly; 'You Will Live!  God 
 Is Good, And Knows That We Have Suffered Enough.  The   Curse Of   The   Last 
 Separation Is Not Pronounced Against Us!  Live, Live!' 
   
   
   
 'Father,' Said The   Girl Tenderly, 'We Have That Within Us Which Not 
 Death Itself Can Separate.  In Another World I Shall Still Think Of   You 
 When You Think Of   Me!  I Shall See You Even When I Am No More Here, 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 206 
 When You Long To See Me!  When You Go Out Alone, And Sit Under The 
 Trees On The   Garden Bank Where I Used To Sit; When You Look Forth On 
 The Far Plains And Mountains That I Used To Look On;  When You Read At 
 Night In The   Bible That We Have Read In Together, And Remember Antonina 
 As You Lie Down Sorrowful To Rest; Then I Shall See You! Then You Will 
 Feel That I Am Looking On You!  You Will Be Calm And Consoled, Even By 
 The Side Of   My Grave; For You Will Think, Not Of   The   Body That Is 
 Beneath, But Of   The   Spirit That Is Waiting For You, As I Have Often 
 Waited For You Here When You Were Away, And I Knew That The   Approach Of 
 The Evening Would Bring You Home Again!' 
   
   
   
 'Hush! You Will Live!--You Will Live!' Repeated Numerian In The   Same 
 Low, Vacant Tones.  The   Strength That Still Upheld Him Was In Those Few 
 Simple Words; They Were The   Food Of   A Hope That Was Born In Agony And 
 Cradled In Despair. 
   
   
   
 'Oh, If I Might Live!' Said The   Girl Softly, 'If I Might Live But For A 
 Few Days Yet, How Much I Have To Live For!'  She Endeavoured To Bend 
 Her Head Towards Her Father As She Spoke; For The   Words Were Beginning 
 To Fall Faintly And More Faintly From Her Lips--Exhaustion Was 
 Mastering Her Once Again.  She Dwelt For A Moment Now On The   Name Of 
 Hermanric, On The   Grave In The   Farm-House Garden; Then Reverted Again 
 To Her Father. The   Last Feeble Sounds She Uttered Were Addressed To 
 Him; And Their Burden Was Still Of   Consolation And Of   Love. 
   
   
   
 Soon The   Old Man, As He Stooped Over Her, Saw Her Eyes Close 
 Again--Those Innocent, Gentle Eyes Which Even Yet Preserved Their Old 
 Expression While The   Face Grew Wan And Pale Around Them--And Darkness 
 And Night Sank Down Over His Soul While He Looked.  'She Sleeps,' He 
 Murmured In A Voice Of   Awe, As He Resumed His Watching Position By The 
 Side Of   The   Couch.  'They Call Death A Sleep; But On Her Face There Is 
 No Death!' 
   
   
   
 The Night Grew On.  The   Women Who Were In Attendance Entered The   Room 
 About Midnight, Wondering That Their Assistance Had Not Yet Been 
 Required.  They Beheld The   Solemn, Unruffled Composure On The   Girl's 
 Wasted Face; The   Rapt Attention Of   Numerian, As He Ever Preserved The 
 Same Attitude By Her Side; And Went Out Again Softly Without Uttering A 
 Word, Even In A Whisper.  There Was Something Dread And Impressive In 
 The Very Appearance Of   This Room, Where Death, That Destroys, Was In 
 Mortal Conflict With Youth And Beauty, That Adorn, While The   Eyes Of 
 One Old Man Watched In Loneliness The   Awful Progress Of   The   Strife. 
   
   
   
 Morning Came, And Still There Was No Change.  Once, When The   Lamp That 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 207 
 Lit The   Room Was Fading Out As The   Dawn Appeared, Numerian Had Risen 
 And Looked Close On His Daughter's Face--He Thought At That Moment That 
 Her Features Moved; But He Saw That The   Flickering Of   The   Dying Light 
 On Them Had Deceived Him; The   Same Stillness Was Over Her.  He Placed 
 His Ear Close To Her Lips For An Instant, And Then Resumed His Place, 
 Not Stirring From It Again.  The   Slow Current Of   His Blood Seemed To 
 Have Come To A Pause--He Was Waiting As A Man Waits With His Head On 
 The Block Ere The   Axe Descends--As A Mother Waits To Hear That The 
 Breath Of   Life Has Entered Her New-Born Child. 
   
   
   
   
 The Sun Rose Bright In A Cloudless Sky.  As The   Fresh, Sharp Air Of   The 
 Early Dawn Warmed Under Its Spreading Rays, The   Women Entered The 
 Apartment Again, And Partly Drew Aside The   Curtain And Shutter From The 
 Window.  The   Beams Of   The   New Light Fell Fair And Glorifying On The 
 Girl's Face; The   Faint, Calm Breezed Ruffled The   Lighter Locks Of   Her 
 Hair.  Once This Would Have Awakened Her; But It Did Not Disturb Her 
 Now. 
   
   
   
 Soon After The   Voice Of   The   Child Who Sojourned With The   Women In The 
 House Was Heard Beneath, In The   Hall, Through The   Half-Opened Door Of 
 The Room.  The   Little Creature Was Slowly Ascending The   Stairs, Singing 
 Her Faltering Morning Song To Herself.  She Was Preceded On Her 
 Approach By A Tame Dove, Bought At The   Provision Market Outside The 
 Walls, But Preserved For The   Child As A Pet And Plaything By Its 
 Mother.  The   Bird Fluttered, Cooing, Into The   Room, Perched Upon The 
 Head Of   The   Couch, And Began Dressing Its Feathers There.  The   Women 
 Had Caught The   Infection Of   The   Old Man's Enthralling Suspense; And 
 Moved Not To Bid The   Child Retire, Or To Take Away The   Dove From Its 
 Place--They Watched Like Him.  But The   Soft, Lulling Notes Of   The   Bird 
 Were Powerless Over The   Girl's Ear, As The   Light Sunbeam Over Her 
 Face--Still She Never Woke. 
   
   
   
 The Child Entered, And Pausing In Her Song, Climbed On To The   Side Of 
 The Couch.  She Held Out One Little Hand For The   Dove To Perch Upon, 
 Placed The   Other Lightly On Antonina's Shoulder, And Pressed Her Fresh, 
 Rosy Lips To Girl's Faded Cheek.  'I And My Bird Have Come To Make 
 Antonina Well This Morning,' She Said Gravely. 
   
   
   
 The Still, Heavily-Closed Eyelids Moved!--They Quivered, Opened 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  Chapter 27 ( The Vigil Of  Hope ) Pg 208 
 Closed, Then Opened Again.  The   Eyes Had A Faint, Dreaming, Unconscious 
 Look; But Antonina Lived!  Antonina Was Awakened At Last To Another Day 
 On Earth! 
   
   
   
 Her Father's Rigid, Straining Gaze Still Remained Fixed Upon Her As At 
 First, But On His Countenance There Was A Blank, An Absence Of   All 
 Appearance Of   Sensation And Life.  The   Women, As They Looked On 
 Antonina And Looked On Him, Began To Weep; The   Child Resumed Very 
 Softly Its Morning Song, Now Addressing It To The   Wounded Girl And Now 
 To The   Dove. 
   
   
   
 At This Moment Vetranio And The   Physician Appeared On The   Scene.  The 
 Latter Advanced To The   Couch, Removed The   Child From It, And Examined 
 Antonina Intently.  At Length, Partly Addressing Numerian, Partly 
 Speaking To Himself, He Said:  'She Has Slept Long, Deeply, Without 
 Moving, Almost Without Breathing--A Sleep Like Death To All Who Looked 
 On It.' 
   
   
   
 The Old Man Spoke Not In Reply, But The   Women Answered Eagerly In The 
 Affirmative. 
   
   
   
 'She Is Saved,' Pursued The   Physician, Leisurely Quitting The   Side Of 
 The Couch And Smiling On Vetranio; 'Be Careful Of   Her For Days And Days 
 To Come.' 
   
   
   
 'Saved! Saved!' Echoed The   Child Joyfully, Setting The   Dove Free In The 
 Room, And Running To Numerian To Climb On His Knees.  The   Father 
 Glanced Down When The   Clear Young Voice Sounded In His Ear.  The 
 Springs Of   Joy, So Long Dried Up In His Heart, Welled Forth Again As He 
 Saw The   Little Hands Raised Towards Him Entreatingly; His Grey Head 
 Drooped--He Wept. 
   
   
   
 At A Sign From The   Physician The   Child Was Led From The   Room.  The 
 Silence Of   Deep And Solemn Emotion Was Preserved By All Who Remained; 
 Nothing Was Heard But The   Suppressed Sobs Of   The   Old Man, And The 
 Faint, Retiring Notes Of   The   Infant Voice Still Singing Its Morning 
 Song.  And Now One Word, Joyfully Reiterated Again And Again, Made All 
 The Burden Of   The   Music-- 
   
   
 'Saved!  Saved!' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ' ) Pg 209 
  Shortly After The   Opening Of   The   Provision Markets Outside The   Gates Of 
 Rome, The   Goths Broke Up Their Camp Before The   City And Retired To 
 Winter Quarters In Tuscany.  The   Negotiations Which Ensued Between 
 Alaric And The   Court And Government At Ravenna, Were Conducted With 
 Cunning Moderation By The   Conqueror, And With Infatuated Audacity By 
 The Conquered, And Ultimately Terminated In A Resumption Of 
 Hostilities. Rome Was Besieged A Second And A Third Time By 'The 
 Barbarians'.  On The   Latter Occasion The   City Was Sacked, Its Palaces 
 Were Burnt, Its Treasures Were Seized; The   Monuments Of   The   Christian 
 Religion Were Alone Respected. 
   
   
   
 But It Is No Longer With The   Goths That Our Narrative Is Concerned; The 
 Connection With Them Which It Has Hitherto Maintained Closes With The 
 End Of   The   First Siege Of   Rome.  We Can Claim The   Reader's Attention 
 For Historical Events No More--The March Of   Our Little Pageant, Arrayed 
 For His Pleasure, Is Over.  If, However, He Has Felt, And Still 
 Retains, Some Interest In Antonina, He Will Not Refuse To Follow Us, 
 And Look On Her Again Ere We Part. 
   
   
   
 More Than A Month Had Passed Since The   Besieging Army Had Retired To 
 Their Winter Quarters, When Several Of   The   Citizens Of   Rome Assembled 
 Themselves On The   Plains Beyond The   Walls, To Enjoy One Of   Those Rustic 
 Festivals Of   Ancient Times, Which Are Still Celebrated, Under Different 
 Usages, But With The   Same Spirit, By The   Italians Of   Modern Days. 
   
   
   
 The Place Was A Level Plot Of   Ground Beyond The   Pincian Gate, Backed By 
 A Thick Grove Of   Pine Trees, And Looking Towards The   North Over The 
 Smooth Extent Of   The   Country Round Rome.  The   Persons Congregated Were 
 Mostly Of   The   Lower Class.  Their Amusements Were Dancing, Music, Games 
 Of Strength And Games Of   Chance; And, Above All, To People Who Had 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ') Pg 210 
 Lately Suffered The   Extremities Of   Famine, Abundant Eating And 
 Drinking--Long, Serious, Ecstatic Enjoyment Of   The   Powers Of 
 Mastication And The   Faculties Of   Taste. 
   
   
   
 Among The   Assembly Were Some Individuals Whose Dress And Manner Raised 
 Them, Outwardly At Least, Above The   General Mass.  These Persons Walked 
 Backwards And Forwards Together On Different Parts Of   The   Ground As 
 Observers, Not As Partakers In The   Sports.  One Of   Their Number, 
 However, In Whatever Direction He Turned, Preserved An Isolated 
 Position.  He Held An Open Letter In His Hand, Which He Looked At From 
 Time To Time, And Appeared To Be Wholly Absorbed In His Own Thoughts. 
 This Man We May Advantageously Particularise On His Own Account, As 
 Well As On Account Of   The   Peculiarity Of   His Accidental Situation; For 
 He Was The   Favoured Minister Of   Vetranio's Former Pleasures--'The 
 Industrious Carrio'. 
   
   
   
 The Freedman (Who Was Last Introduced To The   Reader In Chapter Xiv., As 
 Exhibiting To Vetranio The   Store Of   Offal Which He Had Collected During 
 The Famine For The   Consumption Of   The   Palace) Had Contrived Of   Late 
 Greatly To Increase His Master's Confidence In Him.  On The 
 Organisation Of   The   Banquet Of   Famine, He Had Discreetly Refrained From 
 Testifying The   Smallest Desire To Save Himself From The   Catastrophe In 
 Which The   Senator And His Friends Had Determined To Involve Themselves. 
 Securing Himself In A Place Of   Safety, He Awaited The   End Of   The   Orgie; 
 And When He Found That Its Unexpected Termination Left His Master Still 
 Living To Employ Him, Appeared Again As A Faithful Servant, Ready To 
 Resume His Customary Occupation With Undiminished Zeal. 
   
   
   
 After The   Dispersion Of   His Household During The   Famine, And Amid The 
 General Confusion Of   The   Social System In Rome, On The   Raising Of   The 
 Blockade, Vetranio Found No One Near Him That He Could Trust But 
 Carrio--And He Trusted Him.  Nor Was The   Confidence Misplaced:  The   Man 
 Was Selfish And Sordid Enough; But These Very Qualities Ensured His 
 Fidelity To His Master As Long As That Master Retained The   Power To 
 Punish And The   Capacity To Reward. 
   
   
   
   
 The Letter Which Carrio Held In His Hand Was Addressed To Him At A 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ' ) Pg 211 
 Villa--From Which He Had Just Returned--Belonging To Vetranio, On The 
 Shores Of   The   Bay Of   Naples, And Was Written By The   Senator From Rome. 
 The Introductory Portions Of   This Communication Seemed To Interest The 
 Freedman But Little:  They Contained Praises Of   His Diligence In 
 Preparing The   Country-House For The   Immediate Habitation Of   Its Owner, 
 And Expressed His Master's Anxiety To Quit Rome As Speedily As 
 Possible, For The   Sake Of   Living In Perfect Tranquillity, And Breathing 
 The Reviving Air Of   The   Sea, As The   Physicians Had Counselled.  It Was 
 The Latter Part Of   The   Letter That Carrio Perused And Re-Perused, And 
 Then Meditated Over With Unwonted Attention And Labour Of   Mind.  It Ran 
 Thus:-- 
   
   
   
 'I Have Now To Repose In You A Trust, Which You Will Execute With 
 Perfect Fidelity As You Value My Favour Or Respect The   Wealth From 
 Which You May Obtain Your Reward.  When You Left Rome You Left The 
 Daughter Of   Numerian Lying In Danger Of   Death:  She Has Since Revived. 
 Questions That I Have Addressed To Her During Her Recovery Have 
 Informed Me Of   Much In Her History That I Knew Not Before; And Have 
 Induced Me To Purchase, For Reasons Of   My Own, A Farm-House And Its 
 Lands, Beyond The   Suburbs.  (The Extent Of   The   Place And Its Situation 
 Are Written On The   Vellum That Is Within This.) The   Husbandman Who 
 Cultivated The   Property Had Survived The   Famine, And Will Continue To 
 Cultivate It For Me.  But It Is My Desire That The   Garden, And All That 
 It Contains, Shall Remain Entirely At The   Disposal Of   Numerian And His 
 Daughter, Who May Often Repair To It; And Who Must Henceforth Be 
 Regarded There As Occupying My Place And Having My Authority.  You Will 
 Divide Your Time Between Overlooking The   Few Slaves Whom I Leave At The 
 Palace In My Absence, And The   Husbandman And His Labourers Whom I Have 
 Installed At The   Farm; And You Will Answer To Me For The   Due 
 Performance Of   Your Own Duties And The   Duties Of   Those Under You--Being 
 Assured That By Well Filling This Office You Will Serve Your Own 
 Interests In These, And In All Things Besides.' 
   
   
   
 The Letter Concluded By Directing The   Freedman To Return To Rome On A 
 Certain Day, And To Go To The   Farm-House At An Appointed Hour, There To 
 Meet His Master, Who Had Further Directions To Give Him, And Who Would 
 Visit The   Newly Acquired Property Before He Proceeded On His Journey To 
 Naples. 
   
   
   
 Nothing Could Exceed The   Perplexity Of   Carrio As He Read The   Passage In 
 His Patron's Letter Which We Have Quoted Above.  Remembering The 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ' ) Pg 212 
 Incidents Attending Vetranio's Early Connection With Antonina And Her 
 Father, The   Mere Circumstances Of   A Farm Having Been Purchased To 
 Flatter What Was Doubtless Some Accidental Caprice On The   Part Of   The 
 Girl, Would Have Little Perplexed Him.  But That This Act Should Be 
 Followed By The   Senator's Immediate Separation Of   Himself From The 
 Society Of   Numerian's Daughter; That She Was To Gain Nothing After All 
 From These Lands Which Had Evidently Been Bought At Her Instigation, 
 But The   Authority Over A Little Strip Of   Garden; And Yet, The 
 Inviolability Of   This Valueless Privilege Should Be Insisted On In Such 
 Serious Terms, And With Such An Imperative Tone Of   Command As The 
 Senator Had Never Been Known To Use Before--These Were Inconsistencies 
 Which All Carrio's Ingenuity Failed To Reconcile.  The   Man Had Been 
 Born And Reared In Vice; Vice Had Fed Him, Clothed Him, Freed Him, 
 Given Him Character, Reputation, Power In His Own Small Way--He Lived 
 In It As In The   Atmosphere That He Breathed; To Show Him An Action, 
 Referable Only To A Principle Of   Pure Integrity, Was To Set Him A 
 Problem Which It Was Hopeless To Solve.  And Yet It Is Impossible, In 
 One Point Of   View, To Pronounce Him Utterly Worthless.  Ignorant Of   All 
 Distinctions Between Good And Bad, He Thought Wrong From Sheer 
 Inability To See Right. 
   
   
   
 However His Instructions Might Perplex Him, He Followed Them Now--And 
 Continued In After Days To Follow Them--To The   Letter.  If To Serve 
 One's Own Interests Be An Art, Of   That Art Carrio Deserved To Be Head 
 Professor.  He Arrived At The   Farm-House, Not Only Punctually, But 
 Before The   Appointed Time, And Calling The   Honest Husbandman And The 
 Labourers About Him, Explained To Them Every Particular Of   The 
 Authority That His Patron Had Vested In Him, With A Flowing And 
 Peremptory Solemnity Of   Speech Which Equally Puzzled And Impressed His 
 Simple Audience.  He Found Numerian And Antonina In The   Garden When He 
 Entered It.  The   Girl Had Been Carried There Daily In A Litter Since 
 Her Recovery, And Her Father Had Followed.  They Were Never Separated 
 Now; The   Old Man, When His First Absorbing Anxiety For Her Was Calmed, 
 Remembered Again More Distinctly The   Terrible Disclosure In The   Temple, 
 And The   Yet More Terrible Catastrophe That Followed It, And He Sought 
 Constant Refuge From The   Horror Of   The   Recollection In The   Presence Of 
 His Child. 
   
   
   
   
 The Freedman, During His Interview With The   Father And Daughter, 
 Observed, For Once, An Involuntary And Unfeigned Respect; But He Spoke 
 Briefly, And Left Them Together Again Almost Immediately.  Humble And 
 Helpless As They Were, They Awed Him; They Looked, Thought, And Spoke 
 Like Beings Of   Another Nature Than His; They Were Connected, He Knew 
 Not How, With The   Mystery Of   The   Grave In The   Garden.  He Would Have 
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ') Pg 213 
 Been Self-Possessed In The   Presence Of   The   Emperor Himself, But He Was 
 Uneasy In Theirs.  So He Retired To The   More Congenial Scene Of   The 
 Public Festival Which Was In The   Immediate Neighbourhood Of   The 
 Farm-House, To Await The   Hour Of   His Patron's Arrival, And To Perplex 
 Himself Afresh By A Re-Perusal Of   Vetranio's Letter. 
   
   
   
 The Time Was Now Near At Hand When It Was Necessary For The   Freedman To 
 Return To His Appointed Post.  He Carefully Rolled Up His Note Of 
 Instructions, Stood For A Few Minutes Vacantly Regarding The   Amusements 
 Which Had Hitherto Engaged So Little Of   His Attention, And Then, 
 Turning, He Proceeded Through The   Pine-Grove On His Way Back.  We Will 
 Follow Him. 
   
   
   
 On Leaving The   Grove, A Footpath Conducted Over Some Fields To The 
 Farm-House.  Arrived Here, Carrio Hesitated For A Moment; Then Moved 
 Slowly Onward To Await His Master's Approach In The   Lane That Led To 
 The Highroad.  At This Point We Will Part Company With Him, To Enter 
 The Garden By The   Wicket-Gate. 
   
   
   
 The Trees, The   Flower-Beds, And The   Patches Of   Grass, All Remained In 
 Their Former Positions--Nothing Had Been Added Or Taken Away Since The 
 Melancholy Days That Were Past; But A Change Was Visible In Hermanric's 
 Grave.  The   Turf Above It Had Been Renewed, And A Border Of   Small 
 Evergreen Shrubs Was Planted Over The   Track Which Goisvintha's 
 Footsteps Had Traced.  A White Marble Cross Was Raised At One End Of 
 The Mound; The   Short Latin Inscription On It Signified--'Pray For The 
 Dead'. 
   
   
   
 The Sunlight Was Shining Calmly Over The   Grave, And Over Numerian And 
 Antonina As They Sat By It. Sometimes When The   Mirth Grew Louder At The 
 Rustic Festival, It Reached Them In Faint, Subdued Notes; Sometimes 
 They Heard The   Voices Of   The   Labourers In The   Neighbouring Fields 
 Talking To Each Other At Their Work; But, Besides These, No Other 
 Sounds Were Loud Enough To Be Distinguished.  There Was Still An 
 Expression Of   The   Melancholy And Feebleness That Grief And Suffering 
 Leave Behind Them On The   Countenances Of   The   Father And Daughter; But 
 Resignation And Peace Appeared There As Well--Resignation That Was 
 Perfected By The   Hard Teaching Of   Woe, And Peace That Was Purer For 
 Being Imparted From The   One To The   Other, Like The   Strong And Deathless 
 Love From Which It Grew. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ' ) Pg 214 
 There Was Something Now In The   Look And Attitude Of   The   Girl, As She 
 Sat Thinking Of   The   Young Warrior Who Had Died In Her Defence And For 
 Her Love, And Training The   Shrubs To Grow Closer Round The   Grave, 
 Which, Changed Though She Was, Recalled In A Different Form The   Old 
 Poetry And Tranquillity Of   Her Existence When We First Saw Her Singing 
 To The   Music Of   Her Lute In The   Garden On The   Pincian Hill. No Thoughts 
 Of Horror And Despair Were Suggested To Her As She Now Looked On The 
 Farm-House Scene. Hers Was Not The   Grief Which Shrinks Selfishly From 
 All That Revives The   Remembrance Of   The   Dead:  To Her, Their Influence 
 Over The   Memory Was A Grateful And A Guardian Influence That Gave A 
 Better Purpose To The   Holiest Life, And A Nobler Nature To The   Purest 
 Thoughts. 
   
   
   
 Thus They Were Sitting By The   Grave, Sad Yet Content; Footsore Already 
 On The   Pilgrimage Of   Life, Yet Patient To Journey Farther If They 
 Might--When An Unusual Tumult, A Noise Of   Rolling Wheels, Mingled With 
 A Confused Sound Of   Voices, Was Heard In The   Lane Behind Them.  They 
 Looked Round, And Saw That Vetranio Was Approaching Them Alone Through 
 The Wicket-Gate. 
   
   
   
 He Came Forward Slowly; The   Stealthy Poison Instilled By The   Banquet Of 
 Famine Palpably Displayed Its Presence Within Him As The   Clear Sunlight 
 Fell On His Pale, Wasted Face.  He Smiled Kindly As He Addressed 
 Antonina; But The   Bodily Pain And Mental Agitation Which That Smile Was 
 Intended To Conceal, Betrayed Themselves In His Troubled Voice As He 
 Spoke. 
   
   
   
   
 'This Is Our Last Meeting For Years--It May Be Our Last Meeting For 
 Life,' He Said; 'I Linger At The   Outset Of   My Journey, But To Behold 
 You As Guardian Of   The   One Spot Of   Ground That Is Most Precious To You 
 On Earth--As Mistress, Indeed, Of   The   Little That I Give You Here!'  He 
 Paused A Moment And Pointed To The   Grave, Then Continued:  'All The 
 Atonement That I Owe To You, You Can Never Know--I Can Never 
 Tell!--Think Only That I Bear Away With Me A Companion In The   Solitude 
 To Which I Go In The   Remembrance Of   You.  Be Calm, Good, Happy Still, 
 For My Sake, And While You Forgive The   Senator Of   Former Days, Forget 
 Not The   Friend Who Now Parts From You In Some Sickness And Sorrow, But 
 Also In Much Patience And Hope!  Farewell!' 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name ( Antonina )  Part 12 Part 2  The Conclusion ('Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor ' ) Pg 215 
 His Hand Trembled As He Held It Out; A Flush Overspread The   Girl's 
 Cheek While She Murmured A Few Inarticulate Words Of   Gratitude, And, 
 Bending Over It, Pressed It To Her Lips.  Vetranio's Heart Beat Quick; 
 The Action Revived An Emotion That He Dared Not Cherish; But He Looked 
 At The   Wan, Downcast Face Before Him, At The   Grave That Rose Mournful 
 By His Side, And Quelled It Again.  Yet An Instant He Lingered To 
 Exchange A Farewell With The   Old Man, Then Turned Quickly, Passed 
 Through The   Gate, And They Saw Him No More. 
   
   
   
 Antonina's Tears Fell Fast On The   Grass Beneath As She Resumed Her 
 Place.  When She Raised Her Head Again, And Saw That Her Father Was 
 Looking At Her, She Nestled Close To Him And Laid One Of   Her Arms Round 
 His Neck:  The   Other Gradually Dropped To Her Side, Until Her Hand 
 Reached The   Topmost Leaves Of   The   Shrubs That Grew Round The   Grave. 
   
   
   
       *      *      *      *      * 
   
   
   
 Shall We Longer Delay In The   Farm-House Garden?  No!  For Us, As For 
 Vetranio, It Is Now Time To Depart! While Peace Still Watches Round The 
 Walls Of   Rome; While The   Hearts Of   The   Father And Daughter Still Repose 
 Together In Security, After The   Trials That Have Wrung Them, Let Us 
 Quit The   Scene!  Here, At Last, The   Narrative That We Have Followed 
 Over A Dark And Stormy Track Reposes On A Tranquil Field; And Here Let 
 Us Cease To Pursue It! 
   
   
   
 So The   Traveller Who Traces The   Course Of   A River Wanders Through The 
 Day Among The   Rocks And Precipices That Lead Onward From Its Troubled 
 Source; And, When The   Evening Is At Hand, Pauses And Rests Where The 
 Banks Are Grassy And The   Stream Is Smooth. 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 Publication Date: June 24th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-whdbd538e463635