As he passed before the fire the ruddy glow of the flames fell full upon his face and the Forum reverberated with a clamor of indignation. They had recognized him:
"Alorcus! It is Alorcus!"
"Traitor!"
"Ingrate!"
Many hands reached for their swords to fall upon him; above the heads of the multitude menacing arms brandished spears; but the presence of the Elders, and the sad smile of the Celtiberian restrained them. Moreover, the people felt the weakness of hunger; they had little strength left for indignation, and they were eager to hear the messenger, to learn the fate reserved for them by the enemy.
Alorcus advanced until he stood before the Elders, and the great concourse subsided into profound silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the wood in the fire. All eyes were fixed on the Celtiberian.
"Alcon the prudent is not with you?" he began.
They glanced around in surprise. It was true; until then the absence of the man who was first in all public acts, had not been noticed.
"You look for him in vain," continued the Celtiberian. "Alcon is in the camp of Hannibal. Heart-broken over the condition of the city, realizing that it is impossible to persist longer in the defense, he has sacrificed himself for you, and at the risk of his life he came to Hannibal's tent a few hours ago to beg him, with tears, to have compassion upon you."
"And why has he not returned with you?" asked one of the Elders.