pressed it to his lips, and taking it on his arm
went farther. The house was small, so that he examined every room, and
even the cellar quickly. Nowhere could he find a living soul. It was
evident that Lygia, Linus, and Ursus, with other inhabitants of that
part, must have sought safety in flight.

"I must seek them among the crowd beyond the gates of the city," thought
Vinicius.

He was not astonished greatly at not meeting them on the Via Portuensis,
for they might have left the Trans-Tiber through the opposite side along
the Vatican Hill. In every case they were safe from fire at least. A
stone fell from his breast. He saw, it is true, the terrible danger with
which the flight was connected, but he was comforted at thought of the
preterhuman strength of Ursus. "I must flee now," said he, "and reach
the gardens of Agrippina through the gardens of Domitius, where I shall
find them. The smoke is not so terrible there, since the wind blows from
the Sabine Hill."

The hour had come now in which he must think of his own safety, for the
river of fire was flowing nearer and nearer from the direction of the
island, and rolls of smoke covered the alley almost completely. The
taper, which had lighted him in the house, was quenched from the current
of air. Vinicius rushed to the street, and ran at full speed toward the
Via Portuensis, whence he had come; the fire seemed to pursue him with
burning breath, now surrounding him with fresh clouds of smoke, now
covering him with sparks, which fell on his hair, neck, and clothing.
The tunic began to smoulder on him in places; he cared not, but ran
forward lest he might be stifled from smoke. He had the taste of soot
and burning in his mouth; his throat and lungs were as if on fire. The
blood rushed to his head, and at moments all things, even the smoke
itself, seemed red to him. Then he thought: "This is living fire! Better
cast myself on the ground and perish." The running tortured him more
and more. His head, neck, and shoulders were streaming with sweat, which
scalded like boiling water. Had it not been for Lygia's name, repeated
by him in thought, had it not been for her capitium, which he wound
across his mouth, he would have fallen. Some moments later he failed to
recognize the street along which he ran. Consciousness was leaving him
gradually; he remembered only that he must flee, for in the open field
beyond waited Lygia, whom Peter had promised him. And all at once he was
s