ep draught of the Falernian, and motioning
his servant to place his treasured burden out of sight.

'I have hidden in a secure receptacle, for I know not how soon hunger
may drive the slaves to disobedience,' rejoined Carrio, 'seven bags of
hay, three baskets stocked with salted horse-flesh, a sweetmeat-box
filled with oats, and another with dried parsley; the rare Indian
singing birds are still preserved inviolate in their aviary; there is a
great store of spices, and some bottles of the Nightingale Sauce yet
remain.'

'What is the present aspect of the city?' interrupted Vetranio
impatiently.

'Rome is as gloomy as a subterranean sepulchre,' replied Carrio, with a
shudder. 'The people congregate in speechless and hungry mobs at the
doors of their houses and the corners of the streets, the sentinels at
the ramparts totter on their posts, women and children are sleeping
exhausted on the very pavements of the churches, the theatres are
emptied of actors and audience alike, the baths resound with cries for
food and curses on the Goths, thefts are already committed in the open
and unguarded shops, and the barbarians remain fixed in their
encampments, unapproached by our promised legions from Ravenna, neither
assaulting us in our weakness, nor preparing to raise the blockade!
Our situation grows more and more perilous. I have great hopes in our
store of provisions; but--'

'Cast your hopes to the court at Ravenna, and your beasts' provender to
the howling mob!' cried Vetranio with sudden energy. 'It is now too
late to yield; if the next few days bring us no assistance, the city
will be a human shambles! And think you that I, who have already lost
in this public suspension of social joys my pleasures, my employments,
and my companions, will wait serenely for the lingering and ignoble
death that must then threaten us all? No, it shall never be said that
I died starving with the herd, like a slave that his master deserts!
Though the plates in my banqueting hall must now be empty, my vases and
wine-cups shall yet sparkle for my guests! There is still wine in the
cellar, and spices and perfumes remain in the larder stores! I will
invite my friends to a last feast; a saturnalia in a city of famine; a
banquet of death, spread by the jovial labours of Silenus and his
fauns! Though the Parcae have woven for me the destiny of a dog, it is
the hand of Bacchus that shall sever the fatal thread!'

His cheeks were flushed, h