, because she was afraid; she had fallen in running, with her
face to the ground, and not being able to rise again, had rested her
young, frail head upon one of her arms. One of her hands was half open,
as though she had been holding something, the veil, perhaps, that
covered her. You see the bones of her fingers penetrating the plaster.
Her cranium is shining and smooth, her legs are raised backward and
placed one upon the other; she did not suffer very long, poor child! but
it is her corpse that causes one the sorest pang to see, for she was not
more than fifteen years of age.

The fourth body is that of a man, a sort of colossus. He lay upon his
back so as to die bravely; his arms and his limbs are straight and
rigid. His clothing is very clearly defined, the greaves visible and
fitting closely; his sandals laced at the feet, and one of them pierced
by the toe, the nails in the soles distinct; the stomach naked and
swollen like those of the other bodies, perhaps by the effect of the
water, which has kneaded the ashes. He wears an iron ring on the bone of
one finger; his mouth is open, and some of his teeth are missing; his
nose and his cheeks stand out promimently; his eyes and his hair have
disappeared, but the moustache still clings. There is something martial
and resolute about this fine corpse. After the women who did not want to
die, we see this man, fearless in the midst of the ruins that are
crushing him--_impavidum ferient ruinae_.

I stop here, for Pompeii itself can offer nothing that approaches this
palpitating drama. It is violent death, with all its supreme
tortures,--death that suffers and struggles,--taken in the very act,
after the lapse of eighteen centuries.

ITINERARY.

AN ITINERARY.

In order to render my work less lengthy and less confused, as well as
easier to read, I have grouped together the curiosities of Pompeii,
according to their importance and their purport, in different chapters.
I shall now mark out an itinerary, wherein they will be classed in the
order in which they present themselves to the traveller, and I shall
place after each street and each edifice the indication of the chapter
in which I have described or named it in my work.

In approaching Pompeii by the usual entrance, which is the nearest to
the railroad, it would be well to go directly to the Forum. See Chap.
II.

The monuments of the Forum are as follows. I have _italicized_ the most
curious:

_Th