or
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,
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