y master and in
my presence this man reported--he grew as pale as ashes while he
spoke--what he himself had witnessed. Drops of perspiration had oozed
from the statue of Antony in Alba. Horror seized all the citizens; men
and women came to wipe the brow and cheeks of the statue, but the drops
of perspiration did not cease to drip, and this continued several days
and nights. The stone image had felt what was impending over the living
Mark Antony. It was a horrible spectacle, the man said."

Here the speaker paused, and the group of listeners started, for the
clang of a gong was heard outside, and the next instant all were on
their feet hastening to their posts.

The officials in the magnificent hall had also risen. Here the silence
had been interrupted only by low whispers. The colour had faded from
most of the grave, anxious faces, and their timid glances shunned one
another.

Archibius had first perceived, by the flames of the Pharos, the red
glimmer which announced the approach of the royal galley. It had not
been expected so early, but was already passing the islands into the
great harbour. It was probably the Antonius, the ship on which the old
swallows had pecked the young ones to death.

Though the waves were running high, even in the sheltered harbour,
they scarcely rocked the massive vessel. An experienced pilot must
have steered it past the shallows and cliffs on the eastern side of the
roadstead, for instead of passing around the island of Antirrhodus as
usual, it kept between the island and the Lochias, steering straight
towards the entrance into the little royal harbour. The pitch-pans on
both sides had been filled with fresh resin and tow to light the way.
The watchers on the shore could now see its outlines distinctly.

It was the Antonius, and yet it was not.

Zeno, the Keeper of the Seal, who was standing beside Iras, wrapped his
cloak closer around his shivering limbs, pointed to it, and whispered,

"Like a woman who leaves her parents' house in the rich array of a
bride, and returns to it an impoverished widow."

Iras drew herself up, and with cutting harshness replied, "Like the sun
veiled by mists, but which will soon shine forth again more radiantly
than ever."

"Spoken from the depths of my soul," said the old courtier eagerly,
"so far as the Queen is concerned. Of course, I did not allude to
her Majesty, but to the ship. You were ill when it left the harbour,
garlanded with flowers and