Electric flashes quivered across the sky. Then again an earthquake made the city rock as if drunk; the buildings were rent, and masses of cornice fell down.
A glare of white lightning illumined the whole field and lighted up the mausoleum of Augustus, and the blank faces of such men as were abroad.
The horse trembled and refused to move. It was some time before the alarm of the brute could be allayed, and it could be coaxed to go forward and begin the ascent of the Quirinal. The advance was slow; and Nero’s fears became greater as the road approached the Prætorian Camp, and he expected recognition by the sentinels. Yet in the midst of his fear wild flashes of hope shot, and he said to Phaon:
“What think you, if I were to enter the camp? Surely the Prætorians would rally about me, and I might dissolve the Senate.”
“Sire, they have destroyed your images, and have proclaimed Galba. They would take off your head and set it on a pike.”
Nero uttered a groan, and kicked the flanks of his steed. At that moment a passer-by saluted him.
“By the Immortals! I am recognized.”
“We have but to go a little further.”
“Phaon, what if the Senate declare me an enemy of the State?”
“Then you will fare in the customary manner.”