amed of my profession--it was too late. Tall
Rufus pierced her through with his lance. Even in falling she preserved
the dignity of a queen, and when the men surrounded her she fixed each
one separately with her wonderful eyes and spoke through the death-rattle
in her throat:

"'Shame upon men and soldiers who let themselves be hounded on like dogs
to murder and dishonor!' Rufus raised his sword to make an end of her,
but I caught his arm and knelt beside her, begging her to let me see to
her wound. With that she seized the lance in her breast with both hands,
and with her last breath murmured, 'He desired to see the living
woman--bring him my body, and my curse with it! Then with a last supreme
effort she buried the spear still deeper in her bosom; but it was not
necessary.

"I gazed petrified at the high-bred, wrathful face, still beautiful in
death, and the mysterious, wide-open eyes that must have flashed so
proudly in life. It was enough to drive a man mad. Even after I had
closed her eyes and spread the mantle over her--"

"What has been done with the body?" asked Apollinaris.

"I caused it to be carried into the house and the door of the
death-chamber carefully locked. But when I returned to the men. I had to
prevent them from tearing Rufus to pieces for having lost them the large
reward which Caesar had promised for the living prisoner."

"And you," cried Apollinaris, excitedly, "had to look on while our men,
honest soldiers, plundered this house--which entertained many of us so
hospitably--as if they had been a band of robbers! I saw them dragging
out things which were used in our service only yesterday."

"The emperor--his permission!" sighed Flavius. "You know how it is. The
lowest instincts of every nature come out at such a time as this, and the
sun shines upon it all. Many a poor wretch of yesterday will go to bed a
wealthy man to-day. But, for all that, I believe much was hidden from
them. In the room of the mistress of the house whence I have just come, a
fire was still blazing in which a variety of objects had been burned. The
flames had destroyed a picture--a small painted fragment betrayed the
fact. They perhaps possessed masterpieces of Apelles or Zeuxis. This
woman's hatred would lead her to destroy them rather than let them fall
into the hands of her imperial enemy; and who can blame her?"

"It was her daughter's portrait," said Nemesianus, unguardedly.

The legate turned upon him in surpri