ved the recollection of the broken
treaties of former days, by mechanically inquiring, in the terms of
past formularies, what security the besiegers would require for the
payment of their demands.
'Security!' cried Alaric fiercely, instantly relapsing as they spoke
into his sterner mood. 'Behold yonder the future security of the Goths
for the faith of Rome!' and flinging aside the curtain of the tent, he
pointed proudly to the long lines of his camp, stretching round all
that was visible of the walls of the fallen city.
The ambassadors remembered the massacre of the hostages of Aquileia,
and the evasion of the payment of tribute-money promised in former
days, and were silent as they looked through the opening of the tent.
'Remember the conditions of the ransom,' pursued Alaric in warning
tones, 'remember my security that the ransom shall be quickly paid! So
shall you live for a brief space in security, and feast and be merry
again while your territories yet remain to you. Go! I have spoken--it
is enough!'
He withdrew abruptly from the senators, and the curtain of the tent
fell behind them as they passed out. The ordeal of the judgment was
over; the final sentence had been pronounced; the time had already
arrived to go forth and obey it.
The news that terms of peace had been at last settled filled the Romans
who were waiting before the tent with emotions of delight, equally
unalloyed by reflections on the past or forebodings for the future.
Barred from their reckless project of flying to the open country by the
Goths surrounding them in the camp, shut out from retreating to Rome by
the gates through which they had rashly forced their way, exposed in
their helplessness to the brutal jeers of the enemy while they waited
in a long agony of suspense for the close of the perilous interview
between Alaric and the Senate, they had undergone every extremity of
suffering, and had yielded unanimously to despair when the intelligence
of the concluded treaty sounded like a promise of salvation in their
ears.
None of the apprehensions aroused in the minds of their superiors by
the vastness of the exacted tribute now mingled with the unreflecting
ecstasy of their joy at the prospect of the removal of the blockade.
They arose to return to the city from which they had fled in dismay,
with cries of impatience and delight. They fawned like dogs upon the
ambassadors, and even upon the ferocious Goths. On their departu
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