Well might she so exclaim. The wind had gone by; even its murmur had ceased; when suddenly there rose a roar from the earth as if ten thousand war-chariots had met in the shock of battle. The lightning burst forth from the clouds, and flashed along amid the innumerable dark gigantic pillars of the colonnade, lighting the whole of its vast extent with the blue and ghastly glare; the thunder rolled from the zenith to the horizon with a peal which would have deafened the ear to the loudest voice. But the lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled, scarcely seen or heard; for below, around, was a more dreadful visitation still. The earth shook beneath their feet; the pavement rose and fell like the waves of the sea; the enormous columns tottered and reeled; the walls of massive stone bent to and fro; while the roar of the earthquake and the echoing of the thunder were rendered more terrific by the crash of falling building, and the shrieks both from the interior of the palace and the more distant village. Theodore cast his arms round Ildica and her mother; and, staggering along, hurried them down the steps across the level in front of the palace, and out of danger of its shaken walls. It was the impulse of the moment which made him act, and Flavia yield; but she paused ere they were many steps from the building, exclaiming, "My children! Theodore, my children! Your sister and Ammian! I must go back."
"And I will go too!" said Ildica, in a voice so calm that it made her lover turn suddenly to gaze upon her, who seemed to have lost the timid girl in the first moment of danger and horror.
"No, no!" he exclaimed. "Dear mother, hear me! There will be a second shock doubtless, but it will be some minutes ere it comes. Hasten with Ildica beyond the Golden Gate and up the side of the hill, out of reach of all buildings! I will seek Ammian and Eudochia, and join you in a moment. Fly, fly, dear mother! I leave in your charge what I value more than life. Save her!"
Flavia hesitated; but that moment a slave with a torch rushed out into the portico seeking them, while the motion of the ground subsided, and all became still. It was the swift runner, Aspar, who came up, crying, "Fly, lady! fly, dear mistress! the worst shock is never first; fly to the hills, fly!"
"Away with them, Aspar, beyond the Golden Gate," cried Theodore, breaking from them; "I will join you instantly! Away, away!"
Thus saying, he darted from them, rushed through the portico, and crossed the side avenue, while the wild clamour from the principal street of the palace echoed through the long halls and galleries; and the deep darkness in which that part of the building was plunged rendered the distant sound of wailing and of terror more frightful. On, on he went, though fragments of stone and cement obstructed his way, and crumbled under his feet, showing that even the first shock had been severe enough to shake that strong and massive fabric through every part. But Theodore still hurried forward, till, at length, in his haste, as he passed the spot where he and Ildica had seen the slaves playing on the pavement, he stumbled over a large soft body, and, stooping down, he felt with horror beneath his touch the yet warm form of a man, with the newly-fallen capital of a neighbouring column lying with crushing weight upon his loins. The long hair floating on his shoulders showed Theodore that the unhappy being had been a slave; but still the instinctive benevolence of the youthful heart made him pause a moment to ascertain if life were extinct. He spoke, but not a tone answered; he lifted the hand, in which life's soft warmth yet lingered; but not even a convulsive movement of the fingers told that one spark of the immortal fire still glowed in the mortal body. All was motionless, insensible, lifeless; and Theodore hurried on.
The gates of the Cyzicene hall were open; the glare of lights and the sound of voices came from within; and Theodore instantly entered, as the shortest way to the apartments occupied by Flavia and her household. Never, perhaps, did terror in all its forms present itself more awfully than in that grand and splendid chamber. There, as a general point of meeting, had collected eighty or ninety of the slaves and domestics of both sexes. Fear had not yet had time to subside; and with pale and haggard faces, livid lips, and wide anxious eyes they remained, some clinging to the columns which had so lately been shaken like reeds; some kneeling in the midst, and uttering the confused and terrified prayer; some cast down upon the pavement in utter self-abandonment; some hiding their eyes in their garments, as if they could shut out the approaching horrors that they feared to witness; some gazing wildly up to the roof, which they expected momently to fall upon them. Large fragments of the beautiful paintings which had covered the walls were now seen dashed about upon the floor; and a wide rent in the solid masonry over the door showed how insecure was the shelter which those terrified beings had sought from the night of the earthquake.
In the midst stood, gathered together in the hour of danger, three dusky Numidians, with a servant from the neighbouring Pentopolis, who, in happier times, had been too near akin to the dark Africans to live with them in amity, but who now clung to them for support; while a gigantic slave from the Porphyry mountains, one of the few who looked the unusual dangers of the night in the face with calm determination, was seen in the front, crushing out under his large foot a torch which one of his more terrified companions had let fall. There were two or three others who stood near, and, with arms folded on their chests, and dark brows full of stern resolution, gazed towards the door, as if waiting what horror was to come next.
In the hands of some of the bolder slaves were the torches which gave light to the hall; and the moment Theodore entered, one started from the group, exclaiming, in tones of eager--ay, and affectionate inquiry--though they were but slaves, "The Lady Flavia? Where is the Lady Flavia? Where is the Lady Flavia?"
He spoke as an old servant might speak to a boy he had known from infancy; but Theodore was no longer a boy; for the last nine months and the last few hours together had made him a man in mind as well as in body, and he replied with that prompt tone of commanding courage which won instant obedience.