n the south was
the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, surrounded by massive columns.

The Greek entered the citadel, famous for its resistance during the
invasion of the Gauls. On the margin of a pool before the temples
huddled within the strong enclosure he saw the sacred birds--the geese
which with their cackling in the silence of the night had protected Rome
from the surprise of the invaders. Then he crossed the depression which
divides the hill into two parts, and approached the great fane of Rome.

A stairway of a hundred steps led to the temple, constructed in the
time of the last Tarquin in honor of the three divinities of
Rome--Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. The building consisted of three
_cellae_ or parallel sanctuaries, with three doors opening beneath the
same pediment. The one in the centre was sacred to Jupiter, and the
smaller ones on either side to the two goddesses. A triple row of
columns sustained the pediment, which was decorated with prancing horses
coarsely sculptured. Two rows of columns ran down the sides of the
temple forming a portico, in the shade of which the eldest Roman
citizens strolled, discussing the affairs of the city.

The temple had been built by artists called from Etruria, and under the
colonnade were statues acquired by the expeditions to Sicily and as a
result of the many wars carried on by Rome. This rude nation was
incapable of producing artists, but it had soldiers to supply it with
art by means of war and loot.

The Athenian entered the sanctuary in the centre dedicated to Jupiter,
and he saw the image of the god in terra cotta, holding a golden lance
in his right hand. Before him continually smoked the Altar of
Sacrifices. On leaving the temple he glanced at the gnomon or sundial,
which at that height marked the time for all Rome.

It was now the hour to go to the Senaculum, the ancient building at the
foot of the Tarpeian peak between the Capitolium and the Forum, which
many years later was converted into the temple of Concord. On the steps
which gave access to the temple Actaeon met the two legates sent by
Saguntum before the siege began; two old farmers who had gone away from
home for the first time, and who seemed to be dazed by their long
months of waiting in Rome, with their audiences which never terminated,
and with their interviews and resultless supplications. The two
perturbed Saguntines, impotent before a city which never responded
definitely to their words, follow