t with a ruddier and more
restless light. The north-east breeze fanned the fire, aggravating the
labors of the men who were endeavoring to extinguish it and snatching
flakes of flame off every burning mass. Each blazing storehouse was a
gigantic torch throwing a broad glare into the darkness of the night.
The white marble of the tallest beacon tower in the world, on the island
of Pharos, reflected a rosy hue, but its far gleaming light shone pale
and colorless. The dark hulls of the larger ships and the flotilla of
boats in the background were afloat in a fiery sea, and the still water
under the shore mirrored the illumination in which the whole of Lochias
was wrapped.

Balbilla could not tire of admiring this varying scene, in which
the most gorgeous hues vied with each other and the intensest light
contrasted with the deepest shadows. And she had ample time to dwell
on the marvellous picture before her eyes, for her chariot could only
proceed slowly, and at a point where the street led up from the King's
harbor to the palace, lictors stood in her way and declared positively
that any farther advance was out of the question. The horses, much
scared by the glare of the fire and the crowd that pressed round them,
could hardly be controlled, first rearing and then kicking at the front
board of the chariot. The charioteer declared he could no longer be
answerable. The people who had hurried to the rescue now began to abuse
the women, who ought to have staid at home at the loom rather than come
stopping the way for useful citizens.

"There is time enough to go out driving by daylight!" cried one man;
and another: "If a spark falls in those curls another conflagration will
break out."

The position of the ladies was becoming every instant more unendurable
and Balbilla desired the charioteer to turn round; but in the swarming
mass of men that filled the street this was easier said than done. One
of the horses broke the strap which fastened the yoke that rested on his
withers to the pole, started aside and forced back the crowd which now
began to scold and scream loudly. Balbilla wanted to spring out of the
chariot, but Claudia clung tightly to her and conjured her not to leave
her in the lurch in the midst of the danger. The spoilt patrician's
daughter was not timid, but on this occasion she would have given
much not to have followed Verus. At first she thought, "A delightful
adventure! still, it will not be perfect till it