CHAPTER X.
SUNSET.
The sun which had been shining with cloudless brilliancy throughout the day shed the rich glow of its level beams across the Via Sacra or Appian way. In the clear transparent atmosphere, every monument and every stately statue stood out sharply defined against the sky—a sky of clearest azure, except at the horizon, where lines of violet and rose-coloured clouds, tinged with gold, floated in saffron depths, which were shaded into flaming orange below them, and to the tenderest daffodil as it mingled in opal transparency with the blue canopy above.
The grandeur of a Roman sunset must be seen, and cannot be described—no pen or brush can paint it; and as Anna gazed at the glorious pageantry before her, her lips moved as she repeated in a low voice—
“The street of the city is gold, as it were transparent glass. Surely the gates of heaven—the heaven of the Christian’s hope—might well be there.”
Her companion Rebekah was not thinking of the sky, nor of the grandeur of that road between the tombs along which they passed.
A few horsemen in rich and splendid accoutrements were riding slowly along, and on the broad footway several groups of people were walking, and she was far more interested in them.
Presently a cry was heard that the Christians were coming. And then there was a rush of many feet, and two women bound with cords were seen hurried along towards the spot where Anna and her Jewish companion stood.
“They have been captured near the Cæmeterium,” a voice said.
And then there was a sudden hush and pause; the oncoming crowd stood still, as all eyes were turned in the opposite direction, and a voice cried—