at were past. But, as he now looked
out on the beleaguered city, he saw the populace hastening along the
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.

CHAPTER 24.

THE GRAVE AND THE CAMP.

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