rairie.

The cracking of a whip is heard. The Christians stagger, and, in order
to make an end of it, their brethren push them forward.

Antony closes his eyes.

* * * * *

He opens them again. But darkness envelops him. Ere long, it grows
bright once more; and he is able to trace the outlines of a plain, arid
and covered with knolls, such as may be seen around a deserted quarry.
Here and there a clump of shrubs lifts itself in the midst of the slabs,
which are on a level with the soil, and above which white forms are
bending, more undefined than clouds. Others rapidly make their
appearance. Eyes shine through the openings of long veils. By their
indolent gait and the perfumes which exhale from them, Antony knows they
are ladies of patrician rank. There are also men, but of inferior
condition, for they have visages at the same time simple and coarse.

One of the women, with a long breath:

"Ah! how pleasant is the air of the chilly night in the midst of
sepulchres! I am so fatigued with the softness of couches, the noise of
day, and the oppressiveness of the sun!"

_A woman_, panting--"Ah! at last, here I am! But how irksome to have
wedded an idolater!"

_Another_--"The visits to the prisons, the conversations with our
brethren, all excite the suspicions of our husbands! And we must even
hide ourselves from them when making the sign of the Cross; they would
take it for a magical conjuration."

_Another_--"With mine, there was nothing but quarrelling all day long. I
did not like to submit to the abuses to which he subjected my person;
and, for revenge, he had me persecuted as a Christian."

_Another_--"Recall to your memory that young man of such striking beauty
who was dragged by the heels behind a chariot, like Hector, from the
Esquiline Gate to the Mountains of Tibur; and his blood stained the
bushes on both sides of the road. I collected the drops--here they are!"

She draws from her bosom a sponge perfectly black, covers it with
kisses, and then flings herself upon the slab, crying:

"Ah! my friend! my friend!"

_A man_--"It is just three years to-day since Domitilla's death. She was
stoned at the bottom of the Wood of Proserpine. I gathered her bones,
which shone like glow-worms in the grass. The earth now covers them."

He flings himself upon a tombstone.

"O my betrothed! my betrothed!"

And all the others, scattered through the plain:

"O my sister!" "O my brot