Drusus's schoolboy Polybius was running through his
mind--the description of the great riot when Agathocles, the wicked
regent of Ptolemaeus Philopator, and his sister Agathocleia, and his
mother Oenanthe, had been seized by the multitude and torn in pieces,
bit by bit, while yet they lived. Cornelia seemed to have caught some
new cause for fear; she was trembling and shivering when Drusus took
her in his arms and swung her into the chariot. He lifted in Fabia
likewise, but the Vestal only bowed her head in calm silence. She had
overheard Cleomenes's tidings, but, by stress of all the force of her
strong nature, remained composed. Decimus Mamercus took Artemisia,
frightened and crying, into his own chariot. Monime, Berenice, and
their father were to go in the other cars. The fire was gaining on the
roof, smoke was pouring down into the court-yard, and now and then a
gleam came from a firebrand. The horses were growing restive and
frightened.

"Throw open the gate!" commanded Drusus; his anxieties and despair
were driving him almost to frenzy, but the gods, if gods there were,
knew that it was not for himself that he was fearful. His voice
sounded hollow in his throat; he would have given a talent of gold for
a draught of water. One of his men flung back the gateway, and in at
the entrance came the glare of great bonfires lighted in the streets,
of hundreds of tossing torches. The yelling of the multitude was
louder than ever. There it was, packed thick on all sides: in its
midst Drusus could see bright lines of tossing steel--the armour of
Achillas's soldiery! As the portal opened, a mighty howl of triumph
burst from the people; the fire had driven forth to the mob its prey.
Cornelia heard the howl--the voice of a wild and raging beast--and
trembled more.

"Cornelia," said Drusus, lowering his head so as to make himself
heard, "do not look above the framework of the chariot. Cling to it
tightly, for we may have to pass over obstacles. Above all, do not
spring out, however much we may be swayed and shaken."

"I will not, Quintus," and that was all she could be heard to say in
the din.

And so the little cavalcade drove forth. Cornelia cowered in the
chariot and saw nothing and heard everything, which was the same as
nothing. Was she frightened? She did not know. The peril was awful. Of
course she realized that; but how could calamity come to pass, when it
was Drusus whose powerful form towered above her, when it was