ew near it, shut out all view of objects
in that direction. On the other side, towards the eastward, the
ramparts were discernible, running in a straight line of some length,
until they suddenly turned inwards at a right angle and were concealed
from further observation by the walls of a distant palace and the pine
trees of a public garden. The only living figure discernible near this
lonely spot, was that of a sentinel, who occasionally passed over the
ramparts above, which--situated as they were between two stations of
soldiery, one at the Pincian Gate and the other where the wall made the
angle already described--were untenanted, save by the guard within the
limits of whose watch they happened to be placed. Here, for a short
space of time, the Pagan rested his weary frame, and aroused himself
insensibly from the enthralling meditations which had hitherto blinded
him to the troubled aspect of the world around him.

He now for the first time heard on all sides distinctly, the confused
noises which still rose from every quarter of Rome. The same incessant
strife of struggling voices and hurrying footsteps, which had caught
his ear in the early morning, attracted his attention now; but no
shrieks of distress, no clash of weapons, no shouts of fury and
defiance, were mingled with them; although, as he perceived by the
position of the sun, the day had sufficiently advanced to have brought
the Gothic army long since to the foot of the walls. What could be the
cause of this delay in the assault; of this ominous tranquillity on the
ramparts above him? Had the impetuosity of the Goths suddenly vanished
at the sight of Rome? Had negotiations for peace been organised with
the first appearance of the invaders? He listened again. No sounds
caught his ear differing in character from those he had just heard.
Though besieged, the city was evidently--from some mysterious
cause--not even threatened by an assault.

Suddenly there appeared from a little pathway near him, which led round
the base of the wall, a woman preceded by a child, who called to her
impatiently, as he ran on, 'Hasten, mother, hasten! There is no crowd
here. Yonder is the Gate. We shall have a noble view of the Goths!'

There was something in the address of the child to the woman that gave
Ulpius a suspicion, even then, of the discovery that flushed upon him
soon after. He rose and followed them. They passed onward by the
wall, through the olive trees be