ic and helpless fury, cursing them loudly. She met the death
she craved; a javelin struck her and she fell close to her husband and
son. Her death struggle was a short one; she had only time and strength
to extend a hand to lay on each before she herself was a corpse.

The battle raged round the heap of dead; the Imperial troops drove the
garrison backwards into the temple-halls, and the plan of attack which
had been agreed upon at a council of war held in the palace of
the Comes, was carried out, point by point, with cool courage and
irresistible force. A few maniples pursued the fugitives into the main
entrance hall, helped them to force the gates open, and then drove them
down the slope and steps, over the stones that had been heaped up for
protection, and into the very arms of the division placed in front of
the temple. These at once surrounded them and took them prisoners, as
the hunter traps the game that rushes down upon him when driven by the
dogs and beaters. Foremost to fly were the women from the rotunda, who
were welcomed with acclamations by the soldiers.

But those who now tried to defend themselves found no quarter. Berenice
had picked up a sword that was lying on the ground and had opened a vein
with the point of it; her body, bathed in blood, was found at the foot
of the statue of justice.

No sooner had the Christians mastered the barricade than a few maniples
had been sent up to the roof, and the defenders had been compelled to
surrender or to throw themselves from the parapet. Old Memnon, who had
been fighting against his Imperial master and could hope for no mercy,
sprang at once into the gulf below, and others followed his example; for
the end of all things was now close at hand, and to the nobler souls to
die voluntarily in battle for great Serapis seemed finer and worthier
than to languish in the enemy's chains.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The terrific storm of the preceding night had thrown the whole city into
dismay. Everyone knew the danger that threatened Serapis, and what must
ensue if he were overthrown; and everyone had thought that the end of
the world had indeed come. But the tempest died away; the sun's bright
glow dispersed the clouds and mist; sea and sky smiled radiantly blue,
and the trees and herbage glistened in revived freshness.

Not yet had the Romans dared to lay hands on the chief of the gods,
the patron and protector of the city. Serapis had perhaps sent the
lightning, thund