Antonina; Or, The Fall of Rome

me. In one of the private apartments of his mansion is seated its all-accomplished owner, released at l

usehold. His manner displays an unusual sternness, and his face an unwonted displeasure, as he sits, occupied by his silent reflections and thoroughly unregardful of whatever occurs around him. Two ladies who are his companions in the apartment, exert all their blandishments to win him back to hilarity, but in vain. The services of his ex

the freedman Carrio dissipated Vetranio's meditations, and put the ladies who were with him to flight, by annou

a moment, that his mind, like a shuttlecock, might be urged in any direction by the efforts of others, but was utterly incapable of volition by itself. But once in his life had the Prefect Pompeianus be

unerring instinct of an old gastronome, that the inviting refreshments on Vetranio's table had remained untouched, 'permit me to fortify my exhausted energies by a visit to your ever-luxurious board. Alas, my friend, when I consider the present fearful scarcity of our p

nd your absolute silence during your attendance to-day at our deliberations. Have we, in your opinion, decided erroneously? It is not impossible! Our confusion at this unexpected

a private matter of importance during my attendance at the sitting of the Senate, that I was deaf to thei

nished at this frightful calamity, that they move about like men half awakened from a dream? Have you not seen the streets filled with terrified and indignant crowds? Have you not mounted the ramparts and beheld the in

viewed with any attention the crowds in

please the leader of the barbarians to change his blockade into an assault, it is more than probable that we should be unable to repulse him successfully? Are you still deaf to our deliberations, when your palace may to-morrow be burnt over your head, when we may be stav

lly abandoned his stewed peacock, and advanced, wine-cup in hand,

and the Senate know that we are rich enough to bribe them to depart to the remotest confines

d the auxiliaries we still hope for from

re over. We have had heroes enough for our reputation. As for the auxiliaries you still hope for, you will have none! While

oned! You forget that I have come here to ask your advice, that I am bewildered by a thousand projects, forced on me from all sides, for ruling the city successfully durin

strips together in an urn; and then, let the first you take out by chance, be your g

hat you never heard the project of Saturninus for reducing imperceptibly the diurnal allowance of provisions? Or the recommendation of Emilianus, that the people should be kept from thinking on the dangers and extremities which now threaten them, by being

lusion of public,' said Vetranio impatiently. 'Debate as you choose-approve wh

ty matter that has been settled within them, which must move you. After you had quitted the Senate, Serena, the widow of Stilicho, was accused, as her husband was accused before her, of secret and treasonable correspondence with the Goths; and has been condemned, as her husband was condemned, to suffer the penalty of death. I myself discerned no evidence to convict her; but the populace cried out, in universal frenzy, that she was guilty, that she should die; and that the barbarians, when they heard of the punishment inflicted on their secret adherent, would retire in dismay from Rome. This also wa

neither looked at him nor replied. It was evident that

the effect on the petitioner, which it was perhaps designed

arrio again entered the apartmen

o disclose it to you, but your slaves hav

fforts throughout the night, not only in the streets, but in all the houses of public entert

out to depart, when he was arrested

erian, should desire to see me,' sa

et when I gained the open air, she was nowhere to be seen! She must have mingled unintentionally with the crowds whom the Got

y the sound of footsteps on the marble floor. He looked up. The door had been opened without his perceiving it, and an old

her, gazing anxiously round the room, as if

rch for her,' said V

her! How I wronged her!' cried

your traitorous servant led me to her bed-chamber, she has been innocent in this ill-considered matter. I alone have been guilty! She was scarcely awakened when you discovered her in my arms, and my entry into her chamber, was as little expected by her, as it was by you. I was bewildered by the fumes of wine and the astonishment of your sudden appearance, or I should have rescued her from your anger, ere it was too late!

on of his faculties-he recalled all the circumstances of his attempt, from the time when he had stolen on the girl's slumbers, to the moment when she had fled from the house; when he remembered the stern concentrated anger of Numerian, and the agony and despair of Antonina; when he thought on the spirit-broken repentance of the deceived father, and the fatal departure of the injured daughter, he felt as a man who had not merely committed an indiscretion, but had been guilty of a crime; he became convinced that he had incurred the fearful responsibility of destroying the happiness of a parent who was really virtuous, and a child who was truly innocent. To a man, the business of whose whole life was to procure for himself a heritage of unalloyed pleasure, whose sole occupation wa

elf? It is necessary that he should be discovered. He may enlighten us u

tude in the street, but I know not whither he is gone,' replied Numerian; an

ed in vain to combat the silencing and reproving influence, exerted over him by the very presence of the sorrowing man whom he had so fatally wronged. At length, after an interval, he recovered self-possession enough to address to Numerian so

to be sought for to the ends of the earth! Ulpius shall be secured and questioned-imprisoned, torture

er-my wife is parted from me for ever-I have nothing left but Antonina; and now too she is gone! Even my ambition, that I once thought my all in all, is no comfort to my soul; for I

slaves return in the morning. You will then hear without delay of the result

nothing; daylight itself now looks darkness to me! I must go: I have duties at th

eading the chapter in the Bible which had been appointed for perusal that night, and which happened to be the fifth of the Gospel of St. Mark. His voice trembled, his face was ghastly pale, and his hands shook perceptibly as he began; but he read on, in low, broken tones, and with evident pain and difficulty, until he came to the verse containing these words: 'My little daughter lieth at the point of death.' Here he stopped suddenly, endeavoured vainly for a few minutes to proceed, and then, covering his face with his hands, sank down in the pulpit and sobbed aloud. His sorrowing and startled audience immediately gathered round him, raised him in