sickness, could not withstand the clash. The Celtiberians
wounded mercilessly with their two edged swords, and the company of sick
men, women, and children, fell rapidly beneath their blows.

Actaeon, fighting with his shield before his face and his sword raised
against two vigorous soldiers, saw Sonnica receive a stab in the head
and drop her weapons, doubling up in agony.

"Actaeon! Actaeon!" she cried, forgetting her bitterness, the fire of her
old love returning to her with death.

She fell face downward on the ground. The Greek started toward her, but
at the same instant his ears buzzed as if an immense mass had crashed
upon his head; in his side he felt the chill of the steel perforating
his flesh; everything turned black, and he sank to the ground, as if
falling into a dark and gloomy pit the bottom of which he would never
reach.

* * * * *

The Greek awoke. His chest was weighted down by a form as heavy as a
mountain. He was not sure whether he really existed. His members refused
to obey him. Only with a painful effort could he open his eyes and
understand confusedly why he was there.

Gradually he realized that the something which oppressed his breast was
the corpse of a gigantic soldier. Actaeon thought he remembered having
plunged his sword into the body of the warrior the instant that he fell
into the dense and mysterious night.

He looked around. A ruddy glow, as of an endless aurora, scintillated on
the abandoned weapons and outlined silhouettes of the bodies lying in
heaps or scattered over the field contracted in weird postures by their
final convulsions.

In the background a city was burning. The blackened and shapeless
structures stood out against the curtain of flames, and through their
restless splendor the walls of the Acropolis trembled.

Actaeon remembered all that had happened. That city was Saguntum; the
conquerors could be heard howling through the streets; they were covered
with blood; setting fire to the houses still untouched; cursing a people
which only gave itself up after consuming its riches; killing in their
fury whatever living thing they encountered in their way, and stabbing
the wounded.

As he realized this he knew that he was not dead, but that he was going
to die. He knew it by the terrible weakness which overpowered him, by
the mortal cold creeping up to his heart; by his mind which was growing
dull, and was now but a flickering light.