stars seemed to
stand out from the blue-gray vault above, as if reaching down to the
earth--whether in pity or anger, she could not tell. Around the city
itself hung the luminous aura of its lights; the cries of revellers
sounded from the neighbouring streets,--even the rush of feet,--while,
to the eastward, the glow of the Carthaginian watch-fires seemed to
reach upward to meet the rays of the stars. Yes, these were hostile to
the invaders! She knew it now. They were the glittering points of
Roman pila descending upon the foe--pila driven by the hands that
mouldered amid the red mire of Cannae. Surely those men approved of
what she was about to do! Was not Sergius among them, and would he not
will her to make good, by her beauty, what the sacrifice of his own
strength had failed to accomplish? What interest had he, now, in her
as a woman, as a mistress, as a wife? Greater thoughts must inspire
the shade that was once her lover: their common city, its life and
power, the destiny of the world that depended upon the preservation of
both of these; and still she could not banish the feeling of doubt, of
disapproval. Perhaps Calavius would not return, or perhaps he might
not be able to gain for her permission to attend the banquet?

A commotion at the street entrance, the sound of approaching footsteps,
and the rustle of a gown seemed about to answer her question. The next
moment, her host stood before her and surveyed with astonished approval
the appearance she presented.

"You are very beautiful," he said slowly and as if thinking with regret
that he was surrendering such perfection for mere influence and power.
"I have spoken of you and your wish, and Stenius and Pacuvius--the
Ninii Celeres--consent to your presence. The litters await us in the
vestibule, and it is time that we set out."

Marcia rose, and he led her back through the halls and courts.

"Who will be there?" she asked, as they approached the street door.

"All of especial note, except Vibius Virrius and Marius Blossius. They
are away, busied about matters of state. Mago also has just departed
on a mission to Carthage. There will be no Campanians save our hosts,
myself, my son, Perolla, and Jubellius Taurea, the bravest of our
horsemen. Of our good allies, you shall see Hasdrubal, Maharbal,
Hannibal-the-Fighter, Silenus the Sicilian, who is to write the history
of the wars, Iddilcar the priest of Melkarth, and the great
captain-general hi