“I, too, soldier, have my post of duty; for thee, father, I pray thee return by the unfrequented path we traced on our way hither.”
“I leave thee not, my daughter,” said the old man, “but will rest my wearied limbs a brief period; in the meantime, may the Lord bless thy purpose!”
“Amen, holy father,” said the recluse, for with the hope that at this moment of terror the stubborn heart of Nero might be led to contrition, she, who had once been as the day-star of his life, had now sought his presence, fearless of her own risk, in confronting his revengeful rage.
A slave guided her steps through the lofty halls, whose arched ceilings glittered with representations of the starry firmament, while showers of sweet fragrance filled the air with odors. Ere they had passed far they encountered many slaves who, with hurried steps, were hastening to the entrance.
“How go matters now, Curio?” said the guide.
“Lacca has returned,” said the one addressed. “The Legions are in motion; Servius Galba is proclaimed Emperor and Nero has fled. Save thyself, Arrius, hearest thou not the approach of the insurgents?”
“Nero fled!” said the startled guide. “A truce to thine errand, then, fair lady. Thou art too late.”
“Too late indeed,” she said, clasping her hands in anguish. “Yet, stay, friend.” It was vain, for the alarmed servitor had followed his fellow slaves; and uncertain and distressed, she stood irresolute, which way to shape her course. At this moment the Sybil stood before her.
“Said I not his hour of mercy had passed?” said she. “A night of hopeless gloom has closed around him, and clouds envelope the sweet star of mercy. Said I not so?”
“Hope is not lost, mother,” said the recluse. “Shall we limit the power of the Omnipotent? There is yet hope, even for Nero.” The roar of inflamed and furious thousands now broke upon their ears. The Palatine hill was surrounded and, with speed unparalleled in one so aged, the Sybil drew her companion along a narrow entrance to a secluded path which led through the magnificent gardens of the palace, now deserted by all save straggling bands of fugitives. “Stay, mother,” said the recluse, “Father Paulo is left behind. He awaits us near yon column.” As they drew near the aged priest rose from his reclining posture. “Blessings on His Name, daughter, for that he hath returned thee in safety. Let no harrowing fears perplex thee for him whom thou hast sought to save; he hath sown the wind and he must reap the whirlwind. “His Holy Name be blessed,” said the recluse; and, in silence, they passed on their way. The soft plashing of the fountains, whose lucid drops sparkled in the moonbeams, the dewy freshness of the lawns, and the gentle breathing of the night air contrasted with the wild fury behind them and the storm of unbridled vengeance which now encompassed the palace and shook even its foundation, soothed the perturbed spirit and hushed each murmuring passion to peace.