hung loose in empty
folds; her body, in growing thinner, seemed to have gained in height.

"Actaeon----my love!" she cried again, "I had lost hope of ever seeing
you! Bless you, bless you for coming back!"

She walked beside him, one of her arms around his neck. The multitude
looked upon Sonnica with veneration; she had sacrificed herself for the
poor, sharing with them each day the shrinking supplies of her
store-houses.

Actaeon recognized Euphobias the philosopher in the crowd, his garments
more ragged than ever, almost naked, but with an appearance of relative
vigor which contrasted strangely with the starving appearance of the
majority. Lachares and the elegant young friends of Sonnica bowed to him
from a distance with a distraught expression. They had the look of
starving men, but they concealed their pallor beneath rouge and other
cosmetics, and they wore their richest vestments as if to console
themselves for their privations with the pomp of useless luxury. The
young slave boys who accompanied them moved their emaciated limbs,
covered by gold-embroidered garments, and gazing at their pendants of
pearls, they yawned painfully. The crowd halted in the Forum. The Elders
had gathered in the temple near the quadrangle. Above, on the Acropolis,
the Carthaginians who occupied a part of the hill, kept up a continual
bombardment, and great stones from the catapults fell constantly. Some
of these reached the Forum, and the roofs of many houses and walls were
pierced and shattered by the enormous projectiles.

Actaeon entered the temple alone. The number of Ancients had diminished.
Some had died, victims of hunger and pestilence; others, with juvenile
ardor, had rushed forth to defend the walls, and there encountered
death. The prudent Alcon seemed to enjoy great ascendancy, and he
figured at the head of the assembly. Events had justified the prudence
which had caused him in other days to declare against the warlike
enterprises of the city and their fondness for alliances.

"Speak, Actaeon," said Alcon. "Tell us the truth, the whole truth! After
the misfortunes the gods have already sent us, we can bear even
greater."

The Greek looked at the men, wrapped in their flowing mantles, holding
their tall staves of authority, awaiting his words with an anxiety which
they made an effort to conceal behind majestic calmness.

He related his audience by the Roman Senate; he told of the caution
which had impelled it to favor