Actæon entered the temple alone. The number of Ancients had diminished. Some had died, victims of hunger and pestilence; others, with juvenile ardor, had rushed forth to defend the walls, and there encountered death. The prudent Alcon seemed to enjoy great ascendancy, and he figured at the head of the assembly. Events had justified the prudence which had caused him in other days to declare against the warlike enterprises of the city and their fondness for alliances.
"Speak, Actæon," said Alcon. "Tell us the truth, the whole truth! After the misfortunes the gods have already sent us, we can bear even greater."
The Greek looked at the men, wrapped in their flowing mantles, holding their tall staves of authority, awaiting his words with an anxiety which they made an effort to conceal behind majestic calmness.
He related his audience by the Roman Senate; he told of the caution which had impelled it to favor conciliatory measures; of the arrival of the legates off Saguntum; of their extraordinary reception by Hannibal, and of the departure of the ambassadors for Carthage to demand the punishment of the chieftain and desistance from the siege of Saguntum.
As the sad tale proceeded the calmness of the Elders gradually dissipated. Some, more violent, arose to their feet and rent their garments, crying aloud with grief; others, in their excitement, beat their foreheads with clenched fists, raging with fury on hearing that Rome had not sent her legions; and the eldest among them, without sacrificing their dignity, wept unashamed, allowing their tears to stream down their fleshless cheeks into their snowy beards.
"They have forsaken us!"
"It will be too late when help arrives!"
"Saguntum will perish before the Romans can reach Carthage!"
The assemblage remained long in a state of desperation. Some, motionless in their seats from weakness, implored the gods to let them die ere they should behold the downfall of their people.
It seemed as if the hordes of Hannibal were already clamoring at the temple doors.