iumphs of mosaic, pictured
hangings, had in many parts escaped the spoiler and survived ruin;
whilst everywhere appeared the magnificence of rare stones, the
splendours of royal architecture, the beauty of unsurpassed carving.
Though owls nested where empresses were wont to sleep, and nettles
pierced where the lord of the world feasted his courtiers, this was
still the Palace of those who styled themselves Ever August; each echo
seemed to repeat an immortal name, and in every gallery seemed to move
the shadows of a majestic presence.

Belisarius had not resided here, preferring for his abode the palace of
the Pincian. His successor in the military government of Rome chose a
habitation on the deserted hill, in that portion of its complex
structures which had been raised by Vespasian and his sons. Thither the
two visitors were now directing their steps. Having passed a gateway,
where Marcian answered with a watchword the challenge of the guard,
they ascended a broad flight of stairs, and stood before an entrance
flanked with two great pillars of Numidian marble, toned by time to a
hue of richest orange. Here stood soldiers, to whom again the password
was given. Entering, they beheld a great hall, surrounded by a
colonnade of the Corinthian order, whereon had been lavished exquisite
carving; in niches behind the columns stood statues in basalt, thrice
the size of life, representing Roman emperors, and at the far end was a
tribune with a marble throne. This, once the hall of audience, at
present served as a sort of antechamber; here and there loitered a
little group of citizens, some of whom had been waiting since early
morning for speech with the commander; in one corner, soldiers played
at dice, in another a notary was writing at a table before which stood
two ecclesiastics. Voices and footsteps made a faint, confused
reverberation under the immense vault.

Anxiously glancing about him, Basil followed his conductor across the
hall and out into a peristyle, its pavement richly tesselated, and the
portico, still elaborately adorned with work in metal and in marble,
giving proof of still greater magnificence in bygone time; pedestals
had lost their statues, and blank spaces on the wall told of precious
panelling torn off. Beyond, they came to a curtained doorway, where
they were detained for some moments by the sentry; then the curtain was
drawn aside, and Basil found himself in the triclinium of the Flavian
palace, now us