At this time the principle streets of Rome presented a spectacle of intense interest. A legion of the army, bearing the Imperial Eagle, the long tufts of their helmets waving in the breeze, preceded a car, guarded by cavalry, whose burnished armor reflected every ray of light, in which was seated Servius Galba, the newly elected Emperor of Rome. At intervals the brazen trumpets poured forth their triumphant notes, the deafening shouts of thousands swelled upon the air, and mingled cries of victory and execration burst from the countless multitude. As the imposing procession approached the palace of Nero, the tumult increased, the rumor spread that its detested master had fled, and the terrible cry of “death” resounded on every side. The brilliant illumination of the splendid building had faded into gloom, the music had ceased, and its inhabitants had dispersed in terror. Such are the vicissitudes of greatness. The despotic Emperor, whose mandates, but a few hours before, were obeyed with servile fear, to whose debasing pleasures the riches of the world were subservient, and for the gratification of whose malice thousands had expired in agonizing tortures, was now a despised fugitive, a proscribed criminal, proscribed alike by the laws, as well as the justice of his injured country. Amidst this tumult, with hearts throbbing with praise and thanksgiving to God, the young Christians, after Curtius had been so unexpectedly released from his prison, parted for a short time; Curtius to make glad the hearts nearest and dearest to him by his return home, and Flavius to fulfil his engagement with Nero, to intercede with the new Emperor for the life of the miserable and despicable tyrant.
Avoiding the excited populace, two persons had, by the most obscure passages, approached the Imperial Palace; the one an aged man, wrapped in a dark tunic and supporting his steps by a staff, the other a female, closely enveloped and cautiously shielded from observation. As they drew near the colossal entrance their course was arrested by a sentry and, on requiring admittance to the presence of Nero, they were answered by derision.
“Admittance for a grey cowl! by my faith, no; but for this gear,” said he, “I will warrant a passage, though shaded by a hood and enshrouded in a frieze mantle.”
“Peace, rude brawler,” said the aged man, “attend to thy vocation.”
“My vocation now,” said the fierce soldier, “is to silence such greybeards as thou,” but, as he raised his truncheon, the female, raising her hood, and stepping before her companion, said:
“Wouldst thou harm one to whom the Father of all things has allotted so long a term of life? Suffer us to pass to the presence of Nero and accept the thanks of one who has no other guerdon to bestow.”
Struck by the transcendent beauty of the suppliant and awed by her manner, he lowered his weapon, but still refused admittance to her companion.
“If his tongue wag not too freely,” said he, “yonder bench may afford him a resting place; for thee, fair one, if it chooseth thee, thou mayst try thy fortune within, but, by the powers of Erebus, I warn you not to pursue the venture. Dost thou hear the commotion and uproar of the city? and the near approach of the tumult? Within the palace there is confusion: the lights are extinguished and, methinks, there is danger in the wind. Best retrace thy way, pretty one, with thy crusty fellow-traveler; his journey of life is too nearly ended to be an able protector for thee.”
“If there is danger, friend, why dost thou stay to encounter it?”
“I am a Roman soldier,” said he, proudly; “my post is here and, come what may, I shall retain it.”