hose whom
they had captured to the sword, but as yet they did not attempt the
storming of the gates. Only officers advanced as near to the wall
as they dared and called to the Jews to surrender, saying that Titus
desired to preserve their Temple and to spare their lives. But the Jews
answered them with insults, taunts, and mockery, and Miriam, listening,
wondered what spirit had entered into these people and made them mad, so
that they chose death and destruction rather than peace and mercy. Then
she remembered her strange visions of the night, and in them seemed to
find an answer.

Having repulsed this desperate sally the Roman officers set thousands
of men to work to attempt to extinguish the flaming cloisters, since,
notwithstanding the answer of the Jews, Titus still desired to save the
Temple. As for its defenders, beyond guarding the walls of the Court
of Israel, they did no more. Gathering in such places as were most
protected from the darts and stones thrown by the engines, they crouched
upon the ground, some in sullen silence, some beating their breasts and
rending their robes, while the women and children wailed in their
misery and hunger, throwing dust upon their heads. The Gate of Nicanor,
however, was still held by a strong guard, who suffered none to approach
it, nor did any attempt to ascend to its roof. That Caleb still lived
Miriam knew, for she had seen him, covered with dust and blood, driven
back by the charge of Roman horse up the steps of the gateway. This,
indeed, he was one of the last to pass before it was closed and barred
to keep out the pursuing Romans. After that she saw no more of him for
many a month.

So that day also, the last of the long siege, wore away. At nightfall
the thick mist cleared, and for the last time the rich rays of sunset
shone upon the gleaming roof and burning pinnacles of the Temple and
were reflected from the dazzling whiteness of its walls. Never had it
looked more beautiful than it did in that twilight as it towered, still
perfect, above the black ruins of the desolated city. The clamour and
shouting had died away, even the mourners had ceased their pitiful
cries; except the guards, the Romans had withdrawn and were eating their
evening meal, while those who worked the terrible engines ceased from
their destroying toil. Peace, an ominous peace, brooded on the place,
and everywhere, save for the flames that crackled among the cedar-wood
beams in the roofs of the cl