cripple, glancing at Sergius. "Do you know what the Claudian did?
When the sacred chickens would not eat, he cried out, 'Then they shall
drink,' and ordered them thrown overboard. How could soldiers win when
an impious commander had first challenged the gods?"

"And what about Flaminius ordering our standards to be dug up when they
could not be drawn from the earth?" retorted the other.

"Did he do that?" asked several, and for a moment the feeling that had
been with the cripple, and against the victim of this latest disaster,
seemed divided.

Sergius perceived only too clearly that, in the present temper of men's
minds, the faintest spark could light fires of riot and murder that
might leave but a heap of ashes and corpses for the Carthaginian to
gain. Taking advantage of the momentary lull, he said in conciliatory
tones:--

"Flaminius neglected the auspices, and disaster came upon us for his
impiety, but it appears that he died like a brave soldier, and he is a
whip-knave who strikes at such. As for this man, he needs succour and
care. Stand aside, then, that I may take him where his wants may be
ministered to. There will soon be plenty of fugitives to fill your
ears with tales."

"Not many, master, not many," murmured Decius, as the young man forced
a way for them through the crowd. "Some are taken, but most lie in the
defile of Trasimenus or under the waters of the Lake."

Sergius hurried on, thinking of Varbo the butcher's dream, and of
Arates the Greek soothsayer's interpretation.

II.

WORDS.

Three days had passed since the awful news from the shore of Lake
Trasimenus had plunged Rome into horror and despair. Every hour had
brought in stragglers: horse, foot, fugitives from the country-side,
each bearing his tale of slaughter. Crowds gathered at the gates,
swarming about every newcomer, vociferous for his story, and then
cursing and threatening the teller because it was what they knew it
must be.

In the atrium of Titus Manlius Torquatus, on the brow of the Palatine,
overlooking the New Way, was gathered a company of three: the aged
master of the house, a type of the Roman of better days, and a worthy
descendant of that Torquatus who had won the name; his son Caius, the
youth who had been with Sergius in the Forum; and Lucius Sergius
himself. All were silent and serious.

The elder Torquatus sat by a square fountain ornamented with bronze
dolphins, that lay in the middle of the mos