Chapter XVI: Letter XIV (2)

'Never while I have an arm that can wield a sword, shall a gate of Palmyra swing upon its hinge to let in an enemy.'

'Food already grows short,' said the first; 'better yield than starve.'

'Thou, friend, art in no danger for many a day, if, as is fabled of certain animals, thou canst live on thine own fat. Or if it came to extremities, thou wouldst make a capital stew or roast for others.'

At which the surrounding crowd laughed heartily, while the fat man, turning pale, slunk away and disappeared.

'That man,' said one, 'would betray a city for a full meal.'

'I know him well,' said another; 'he is the earliest at the markets, where you may always see him feeling out with his fat finger the parts of meats that are kindred to himself. His soul, could it be seen, would be of the form of a fat kidney. His riches he values only as they can be changed into food. Were all Palmyra starved, he, were he sought, would be found in some deep-down vault, bedded in the choicest meats--enough to stand a year's siege, and leave his paunch as far about as 't is to-day. See, the Queen betrays anxiety. The gods shield her from harm!'

Zenobia occupied the same post of observation as before. She paced to and fro with a hasty and troubled step the narrow summit of the tower, where she had placed herself.

After no long-interval of time, the Roman herald was seen returning from the camp of the Armenians. Again he sallied forth from the tent of Aurelian, on the same errand. It was too clear now that negotiations were going on which might end fatally for Palmyra. Doubt, fear, anxiety, intense expectation kept the multitude around me in breathless silence, standing at fixed gaze, like so many figures of stone.

They stood not long in this deep and agonizing suspense; for no sooner did the Roman herald reach the tents of the allied armies, and hold brief parley with their chiefs, than he again turned toward the Roman intrenchments at a quick pace, and at the same moment the tents of the other party were struck, and while a part commenced a retreat, another and larger part moved as auxiliaries to join the camp of Aurelian.

Cries of indignation, rage, grief and despair, then burst from the miserable crowds, as with slow and melancholy steps they turned from the walls to seek again their homes. Zenobia was seen once to clasp her hands, turning her face toward the heavens. As she emerged from the tower and ascended her chariot, the enthusiastic throngs failed not to testify their unshaken confidence and determined spirit of devotion to her and her throne, by acclamations that seemed to shake the very walls themselves.

This last has proved a heavier blow to Palmyra than the former. It shows that their cause is regarded by the neighboring powers as a losing one, or already lost and that hope, so far as it rested upon their friendly interposition, must be abandoned. The city is silent and sad. Almost all the forms of industry having ceased, the inhabitants are doubly wretched through their necessary idleness; they can do little but sit and brood over their present deprivations, and utter their dark bodings touching the future. They who obtained their subsistence by ministering to the pleasures of others, are now the first to suffer; for there are none to employ their services. Streets, which but a little while ago resounded with notes of music and the loud laughter of those who lived to pleasure, are now dull and deserted. The brilliant shops are closed, the fountains forsaken, the Porticos solitary, or they are frequented by a few who resort to them chiefly to while away some of the melancholy hours that hang upon their hands. And they who are abroad seem not like the same people. Their step is now measured and slow--the head bent--no salutation greets the passing stranger or acquaintance, or only a few cold words of inquiry, which pass from cold lips into ears as cold. Apathy--lethargy--stupor--seem fast settling over all. They would indeed bury all, I believe, were it not that the parties of the discontented increase in number and power, which compels the friends of the Queen to keep upon the alert. The question of surrender is now openly discussed. 'It is useless,' it is said, 'to hold out longer. Better make the best terms we can. If we save the city by an early capitulation from destruction, coming off with our lives and a portion of our goods, it is more than we shall get if the act be much longer postponed. Every day of delay adds to our weakness, while it adds also to the vexation and rage of the enemy, who the more and longer he suffers, will be less inclined to treat us with indulgence.'

These may be said to have reason on their side, but the other party are inflamed with national pride and devotion to Zenobia, and no power of earth is sufficient to bend them. They are the principal party for numbers; much more for rank and political power. They will hold out till the very last moment--till it is reduced to a choice between death and capitulation; and, on the part of the Queen and the great spirits of Palmyra, death would be their unhesitating choice, were it not for the destruction of so many with them. They will therefore, until the last loaf of bread is divided, keep the gates shut; then throw them open, and meet the terms, whatever they may be, which the power of the conqueror may impose.

A formidable conspiracy has been detected, and the supposed chiefs of it seized and executed.

The design was to secure the person of the Queen, obtain by a violent assault one of the gates, and sallying out, deliver her into the hands of the Romans, who, with her in their power, could immediately put an end to the contest. There is little doubt that Antiochus was privy to it, although those who suffered betrayed him not, if that were the fact. But it has been urged with some force in his favor, that none who suffered would have felt regard enough for him to have hesitated to sacrifice him, if by doing so they could have saved their own lives or others.

Zenobia displayed her usual dauntless courage, her clemency, and her severity. The attack was made upon her, surrounded by her small body-guard, as she was returning toward evening from her customary visit of observation to the walls. It was sudden, violent, desperate; but the loyalty and bravery of the guards was more than a match for the assassins, aided too by the powerful arm of the Queen herself, who was no idle spectator of the fray. It was a well-laid plot, and but for an accidental addition which was made at the walls to the Queen's guard, might have succeeded; for the attack was made just at the Persian gate, and the keeper of the gate had been gained over. Had the guard been overpowered but for a moment, they would have shot the gate too quickly for the citizens to have roused to her rescue. Such of the conspirators as were not slain upon the spot were secured. Upon examination, they denied the participation of others than themselves in the attempt, and died, such of them as were executed, involving none in their ruin. The Queen would not permit a general slaughter of them, though urged to do so. 'The ends of justice and the safety of the city,' she said, 'would be sufficiently secured, if an example were made of such as seemed manifestly the chief movers. But there should be no indulgence of the spirit of revenge.' Those accordingly were beheaded, the others imprisoned.

While these long and weary days are passing away, Gracchus, Fausta, Calpurnius and myself are often at the palace of Zenobia. The Queen is gracious, as she ever is, but laboring under an anxiety and an inward sorrow, that imprint themselves deeply upon her countenance, and reveal themselves in a greater reserve of manner. While she is not engaged in some active service she is buried in thought, and seems like one revolving difficult and perplexing questions. Sometimes she breaks from these moments of reverie with some sudden question to one or another of those around her, from which we can obscurely conjecture the subjects of her meditations. With Longinus, Otho, and Gracchus she passes many of her hours in deep deliberation. At times, when apparently nature cries out for relief, she will join us as we sit diverting our minds by conversation upon subjects as far removed as possible from the present distresses, and will, as formerly, shed the light of her penetrating judgment upon whatever it is we discuss. But she soon falls back into herself again, and remains silent and abstracted, or leaves us and retreats to her private apartments.

* * * * *

Suddenly the Queen has announced a project which fills the city with astonishment at its boldness, and once more lights up hope within the bosoms of the most desponding.

Soon as her own mind had conceived and matured it, her friends and counsellors were summoned to receive it from her, and pronounce their judgment. Would that I could set before you, my Curtius, this wonderful woman as she stood before us at this interview. Never before did she seem so great, or of such transcendent beauty--if under such circumstances such a thought may be expressed. Whatever of melancholy had for so long a time shed its gloom over her features was now gone. The native fire of her eye was restored and doubled, as it seemed, by the thoughts which she was waiting to express. A spirit greater than even her own, appeared to animate her, and to breathe an unwonted majesty into her form, and over the countenance.

She greeted all with the warmth of a friend, and besought them to hear her while she presented a view of the present condition of their affairs, and then proposed what she could not but believe might still prove a means of final deliverance--at least, it might deserve their careful consideration. After having gone over the course that had been pursued and defended it, as that alone which became the dignity and honor of a sovereign and independent power, she proceeded thus:

'We are now, it is obvious to all, at the last extremity. If no new outlet be opened from the difficulties which environ us, a few days will determine our fate. We must open our gates and take such mercy as our conquerors may bestow. The provision laid up in the public granaries is nearly exhausted. Already has it been found necessary greatly to diminish the amount of the daily distribution. Hope in any power of our own seems utterly extinct: if any remain, it rests upon foreign interposition, and of this I do not despair. I still rely upon Persia. I look with confidence to Sapor for farther and yet larger succors. In the former instance, it was apprehended by many--I confess I shared the apprehension--that there would be on the part of Persia but a parade of friendship, with nothing of reality. But you well know it was far otherwise. There was a sincere and vigorous demonstration in our behalf. Persia never fought a better field, and with slightly larger numbers would have accomplished our rescue. My proposition is, that we sue again at the court of Sapor--no, not again, for the first was a free-will offering--and that we fail not, I would go myself my own ambassador, and solicit what so solicited, my life upon it, will not be refused. You well know that I can bear with me jewels gathered during a long reign of such value as to plead eloquently in my cause, since the tithe of them would well repay the Persian for all his kingdom might suffer for our sakes.'

'What you propose, great Queen,' said Longinus, as Zenobia paused, 'agrees with your whole life. But how can we, who hold you as we do, sit in our places and allow you alone to encounter the dangers of such an enterprise? For without danger it cannot be--from the robber of the desert, from the Roman, from the Persian.' In disguise and upon the road, you may suffer the common fate of those who travel where, as now, marauders of all nations swarm; Sapor may, in his capricious policy, detain you prisoner; Aurelian may intercept. Let your servants prevail with you to dismiss this thought from your mind. You can name no one of all this company who will not plead to be your substitute.'

There was not one present who did not spring upon his feet, and express his readiness to undertake the charge.

'I thank you all,' said the Queen, 'but claim, in this perhaps the last act of my reign, to be set free in your indulgence to hold an unobstructed course. If in your honest judgments you confess that of all who could appear at the court of Sapor, I should appear there as the most powerful pleader for Palmyra, it is all I ask you to determine. Is such your judgment?'

'It is,' they all responded--'without doubt it is.'

'Then am I resolved. And the enterprise itself you judge wise and of probable success?'

'We do. The reasons are just upon which it is founded. It is greatly conceived, and the gods giving you safe conduct to Sapor, we cannot doubt a happy result.'

'Then all that remains is, to contrive the manner of escape from the city and through the Roman camp.'

'There is first one thing more,' said the Princess Julia, suddenly rising from her mother's side, but with a forced and trembling courage, 'which remains for me to do. If there appear any want of maidenly reserve in what I say, let the cause, good friends, for which I speak and act, be my excuse. It is well known to you who are familiar with the councils of the state, that not many months past Persia sought through me an alliance with Palmyra. But in me, you, my mother and Queen, have hitherto found an uncomplying daughter--and you, Fathers, a self-willed Princess. I now seek what before I have shunned. Although I know not the Prince Hormisdas--report speaks worthily of him--but of him I think not--yet if by the offer of myself I could now help the cause of my country, the victim is ready for the altar. Let Zenobia bear with her not only the stones torn from her crown, but this which she so often has termed her living jewel, and if the others, first proffered, fail to reach the Persian's heart, then, but not till then, add the other to the scale. If it weigh to buy deliverance and prosperity to Palmyra--though I can never be happy--yet I shall be happy if the cause of happiness to you.'

'My noble child!' said Zenobia, 'I cannot have so startled the chiefs of Palmyra by a new and unthought-of project, as I am now amazed in my turn. I dreamed not of this. But I cannot hinder you in your purpose. It ensures success to your country; and to be the instrument of that, will be a rich compensation for even the largest sacrifice of private affections.'

The counsellors and senators who were present expressed a great, and I doubt not sincere unwillingness that so dangerous a service should be undertaken by those whom they so loved, and whom beyond all others they would shield with their lives from the very shadow of harm. But they were overcome by the determined spirit both of the Queen and Julia, and by their own secret conviction that it was the only act in the power of mortals by which the existence of the empire and city could be preserved.

At this point of the interview, Calpurnius, whom we had missed, entered, and learning what had passed, announced that by a channel not to be mistrusted, he had received intelligence of a sudden rising in Persia, of the assassination of Sapor, and the elevation of Hormisdas to the throne of his father. This imparted to all the liveliest pleasure, and seemed to take away from the project of the Queen every remaining source of disquietude and doubt. Calpurnius at the same moment was besought, and offered himself to serve as the Queen's companion and guide. The chosen friend of Hormisdas, and whose friendship he had not forfeited by his flight--no one could so well as he advocate her cause with the new king.

'But how is it,' inquired Longinus, 'that you obtain foreign intelligence, the city thus beset?'

'It may well be asked,' replied Calpurnius. 'It is through the intelligence and cunning of a Jew well known in Palmyra, and throughout the world I believe, called Isaac. By him was I rescued from Persian captivity, and through him have I received letters thence, ever since the city has been besieged. He is acquainted with a subterranean passage--in the time of Trajan, he has informed me, a public conduit, but long since much choked and dry--by which one may pass from the city under and beyond the lines of the Roman intrenchments, emerging into a deep ravine or fissure, grown thickly over with vines and olives. Once it was of size sufficient to admit an elephant with his rider; now, he says, has it become so obstructed, and in some places so fallen in, that it is with difficulty that a dromedary of but the common size can force his way through.'

'Through this then the Queen may effect her escape,' said Longinus.

'With perfect ease and security,' rejoined Calpurnius. 'At the outlet, Isaac shall be in waiting with the fleetest dromedaries of the royal stables.'

'We are satisfied,' said Longinus; 'let it be as you say. The gods prosper the pious service!'

So ended the conversation.

Of the ancient aqueduct or conduit, you have already heard from me; it is the same by which Isaac has transmitted my late letters to Portia--which I trust you have received and read. To Portia alone--be not offended--do I pour out my whole soul. From her learn more of what relates to the Princess.

I returned from the palace of Zenobia overwhelmed with a thousand painful sensations. But this I need not say.

Fausta, upon learning the determination of the Queen, which had been communicated not even to her, exclaimed--'There, Lucius, I have always told you Palmyra brought forth women! Where in the wide world shall two be found to match Zenobia and Julia? But when is the time fixed for the flight?'

'To-morrow night.'

'I will to the palace. These may be the last hours permitted by the gods to our friendship. I must not lose one of them.'

I went not there again.

Late on the evening of the following day Fausta returned--her countenance betraying what she had suffered in parting from those two, her bosom friends. It was long ere she could possess herself so far as to give to Gracchus and myself a narrative of what had occurred. To do it, asked but few words.

'We have passed the time,' she said at length, 'as you might suppose those would about to be separated--forever; yes, I feel that I have seen them for the last time. It is like a conviction inspired by the gods. We did naught till the hour of attiring for the flight arrived, but sit, look upon each other, embrace, and weep. Not that Zenobia, always great, lost the true command of herself, or omitted aught that should be done; but that she was a woman, and a mother, and a friend, as well as a Queen and a divinity. But I can say no more.'

'Yet one thing,' she suddenly resumed; 'alas! I had well nigh forgotten it--it should have been said first. What think you? the Indian slave, Sindarina, was to accompany the Queen, but at the hour of departure she was missing. Her chamber was empty--the Arabian disguise, in which all were to be arrayed, lying on her bed--she herself to be found neither there nor any where within the palace. Another of the Queen's women was chosen in her place. What make you of it?'

'Treason!--treachery!' cried Gracchus, and springing from his seat, shouted for a horse.

'The gods forgive me,' cried the afflicted Gracchus, 'that this has been forgotten! Why, why did I not lay to heart the hints which you dropped!'

'In very truth,' I replied, 'they were almost too slight to build even a suspicion upon. The Queen heeded them not--and I myself had dismissed them from my mind not less than yourself.'

'Not a moment is to be lost,' said Gracchus; 'the slave must be found, and all whom we suspect seized.'

The night was passed in laborious search, both of the slave and Antiochus. The whole city was abroad in a common cause. All the loose companions of Antiochus and the young princes were taken and imprisoned; the suspected leaders in the affair, after a scrutinizing search and public proclamation, could not be found. The inference was clear, agonizing as clear, that the Queen's flight had been betrayed.

Another day has revealed the whole. Isaac, who acted as guide through the conduit, and was to serve in the same capacity till the party were secure within a Persian fortress, not far from the banks of the Euphrates, has, by a messenger, a servant of the palace, found means to convey a relation of what befel after leaving Palmyra.

'Soon,' he says, 'as the shades of evening fell, the Queen, the Princess Julia, Nichomachus, a slave, and Calpurnius, arrayed in the garb of Arabs of the desert, together with a guard of ten soldiers, selected for their bravery and strength, met by different routes at the mouth of the old conduit. So noble a company had I never before the charge of. Thou wouldst never have guessed the Queen through the veil of her outlandish garment. She became it well. Not one was more a man than she. For the Princess, a dull eye would have seen through her. Entering a little way in utter darkness, I then bid them stand while I lighted torches. The Queen was near me the while, and asked me the length of the passage, and whether the walls were of that thickness as to prevent the voice from being heard above.

'"Till we reach one particular spot, where the arch is partly fallen in," I said, "we may use our tongues as freely and as loud as we please; at that place there will be need of special caution, as it is directly beneath the Roman intrenchments. Of our approach thereto I will give timely warning."

'I took occasion to say, that I was sorry the Queen of Palmyra should be compelled to pass through so gloomy a cavern, but doubtless he who was with Deborah and Judith would not forsake her who was so fast a friend to his people, and who, if rumor might be believed, was even herself one of them. This, Roman, you will doubtless think bold; but how could one who was full refrain? I even added, "Fear not; he who watches over Judah and Israel, will not fail to appear for one by whose arm their glories are to be restored." The Queen at that smiled, and if a countenance may be read, which I hold it can, as well as a book, it spoke favorable things for Jerusalem.

'When our torches were kindled, we went on our way; a narrow way and dark. We went in silence too, for I quickly discerned that minds and hearts were too busy with themselves and their own sorrows and fears to choose to be disturbed. Ah, Roman, how many times harder the lot of the high than the low! When we drew nigh to the fissure in the arch, the torches were again extinguished, and we proceeded at a snail's pace and with a hyena's foot while we were passing within a few feet of the then, as I doubted not, sleeping Romans. As we came beneath the broken and open part, I was startled by the sound of voices. Soldiers were above conversing. As we paused through apprehension, a few words were distinctly heard.

'"The times will not bear it," muttered one. "'Tis a vain attempt."

'"His severity is cruel," said another. "Gods! when before was it heard of, that a soldier, and such a one, for what every one does whom chance favors, should be torn limb from limb? The trees that wrenched Stilcho asunder, ere they grow too stiff, may serve a turn on 'Hand-to-his-Sword' himself. He will fatten on these starved citizens when he climbs over their walls."

'"O no, by Jupiter!" said the first, "it is far likelier he will let them off, as he did at Tyana, and we lose our sport. It is his own soldiers' blood he loves."

'"He may yet learn," replied the other, "that soldiers wear weapons for one purpose as well as another. Hark! what noise was that?"

'"It was but some rat at work within this old arch, Come, let us to bed."

'They moved away, and we, breathing again, passed along, and soon re-lighted our torches.

'After walking a weary distance from this point, and encountering many obstacles, we at length reached the long-desired termination. The dromedaries were in readiness, and mounting them without delay, we ascended the steep sides of the ravine, and then at a rapid pace sought the open plains. When they were attained, I considered that we were out of all danger from the Romans, and had only to apprehend the ordinary dangers of this route during a time of war, when freebooters of all the neighboring tribes are apt to abound. "Here," I said to the Queen, "we will put our animals to their utmost speed, as the way is plain and smooth--having regard only," I added, "to your and the Princess's strength."--"On, on, in the name of the gods!" said they both; "we can follow as fast as you shall lead." And on we flew with the speed of the wind. The Queen's animals were like spirits of the air, with such amazing fleetness and sureness of foot did they shoot over the surface of the earth. The way was wholly our own. We met none; we saw none. Thrice we paused to relieve those not accustomed to such speed, or to the peculiar motion of this animal. But at each resting place, the Queen with impatience hastened us away, saying, that "rest could be better had at once when we had crossed the river; and once upon the other bank, and we were safe."

'The first flush of morning was upon the sky as we came within sight of the valley of the Euphrates. The river was itself seen faintly gleaming as we wound down the side of a gentle hill. The country here was broken, as it had been for many of the last miles we had rode--divided by low ridges, deep ravines, and stretches of wood and bush. So that to those approaching the banks in the same general direction, many distinct paths offered themselves. It was here, O Piso, just as we reached the foot of this little hill, riding more slowly by reason of the winding road, that my quick ear caught at a distance the sounds of other hoofs upon the ground beside our own. My heart sank within me--a sudden faintness spread over my limbs. But at the instant I gave the alarm to our troop, and at greatest risk of life and limb we put our beasts to their extreme speed, and dashed toward the river. I still, as we rode, turning my ear in the direction of the sound, heard with distinctness the clatter of horses' hoofs. Our beasts were dromedaries; in that lay my hope. Two boats awaited us among the rushes on the river's bank, in the keeping of those who had been sent forward for that purpose; and off against them, upon the other side of the stream, lay a small Persian village and fortress. Once off in the boats but ever so short a distance, and we were safe. On we flew, and on I was each moment conscious came pursuers, whoever they might be. We reached the river's edge.--"Quick! for your lives," I cried. "The Queen, the Princess, and four men in this boat; the packages in the other." In a moment and less than that, we were in our boat, a troop of horse at the same instant sweeping like a blast of the desert down the bank of the river. We shot into the stream; but ere the other could gain the water, the Romans, as we now too plainly saw them to be, were upon them. A brief but desperate strife ensued. The Romans were five for one of the others, and quickly putting them to the sword, sprang into their boat.

'"Pull! pull!" cried the Queen, the first words she had uttered, "for your lives and Palmyra!" They gained upon us. We had six oars, they eight. But the strength of three seemed to nerve the arm of Calpurnius.

'"Immortal gods!" cried he, in inexpressible agony, "they near us!" and straining with redoubled energy his oar snapped, and the boat whirled from her course.

'"All is lost!" ejaculated Zenobia.

'A Roman voice was now heard, "Yield you, and your lives are safe."

'"Never," cried Calpurnius, and as the Roman boat struck against ours, he raised his broken oar, and aiming at him who had spoken, lost his balance and plunged headlong into the stream,

'"Save him--save him!" cried the Queen, but they heeded her not. "It is vain to contend," she cried out again; "we yield, but save the life of him who has fallen."

'The light was yet not sufficient to see but to a little distance. Nothing was visible upon the smooth surface of the water, nor any sound heard.

'"His own rash fury has destroyed him," said the Roman, who we now could discern bore the rank of Centurion.

'"We seek," said he, turning toward where the Queen sat, "we seek Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra."

'"I am Zenobia," said the Queen.

'"The gods be praised therefor!" rejoined the Centurion. "Our commands are to bear you to the tent of Aurelian."

'"Do with me as you list," replied the Queen; "I am in your power."

'"To the shore," exclaimed the Roman; and our boat, fastened to the other, was soon at the place whence but a moment before it had parted.

'"Who are these?" asked the Centurion, as we reached the shore, pointing to the Princess, and the attendant slave and secretary. "Our orders extend only to the person of the Queen."

'"Divide them not," I said, willing to spare the Queen the bandying of words with a Roman soldier, "they are of the Queen's family. They are a part of herself. If thou takest one take all to thy Emperor."

'"So be it; and now to your horses, and once more over the plain. It shall go hard, but that what we carry with us will make our fortune with Aurelian."

'Saying this, the whole troop formed, placing Zenobia and Julia in the midst, and winding up the banks of the river disappeared.

'Such, O unhappy Piso, was this disastrous night. Surely all was done on our part to secure a successful issue. I can discern no defect nor fault. We could not have been more fleet. Swifter beasts never trod the sands of Arabia. What then? Hath there not been, think you, foul play? Whence got the Romans knowledge, not only of our flight, but of the very spot for which we aimed? I doubt not there has been treachery--and that too of the very color of hell. Look to it, and let not the guilty go free.

'One word touching thy brother. Despond not. I cannot think that he is lost. We were but a furlong from the shore. My belief is, that seeing the capture of the Queen was certain, and that to him, if taken with her in arms against his country, death was inevitable, he, when he fell, rose again at a safe distance, and will yet be found.

'These things I send in haste by a returning servant of the palace, I remaining both to secure the dromedaries now wandering at will along the banks of the river, and to search diligently for Calpurnius, whom I trust to bear back with me to Palmyra.'

Here, my Curtius, was food for meditation and grief--the renowned Queen of this brilliant capital and kingdom, so late filling a throne that drew the admiration of the world, sitting there in a proud magnificence that cast into shade Persia itself, is in one short night shorn of all her power; a captive at the mercy of a cruel foe; Julia also a captive; my brother, so late redeemed--as I cannot but suppose--dead. I need not nor can I tell you with what emotions I read the fatal letter. The same messenger who delivered it to me had spread through the city the news of the Queen's captivity. What related to Calpurnius I determined to conceal from Fausta, since it was at least possible that by communicating it I might cause a useless suffering.

Fausta, upon learning the horrors of the night, which she first did from the outcries and lamentations in the streets, seemed more like one dead than alive. She could not weep; the evil was too great for tears. And there being no other way in which to give vent to the grief that wrung her soul in every feeling and affection, I trembled lest reason should be hurled from its seat. She wandered from room to room, her face of the hue of death--but indicating life enough in its intense expression of inward pain--and speechless, save that at intervals in a low tone, 'Zenobia! Palmyra!' fell from her scarcely moving lips. To Gracchus and myself essaying to divert her from thoughts that seemed to prey upon her very life, she said, 'Leave me to wrestle alone with my grief; it is the way to strength. I do not doubt that I shall find it.'

'She is right,' said Gracchus; 'to overcome she must fight her own battle. Our aid but ministers to her weakness.'

It was not long before she rejoined us, tears having brought relief to her over-burdened heart.

Her first inquiry now was for Calpurnius. 'I have feared to ask, for if he too is captive, I know that he is lost. Now I can hear and bear all. How is it, Lucius?'

I answered, that 'he was not a captive, so much was known; but where he now was, or what had befallen him, was not known. I had reason to believe that he would find his way back through the guidance of Isaac to the city.'

'Alas! I read in your words his fate. But I will not urge you farther. I will live upon all the hope I can keep alive. Yet it is not the death of Calpurnius--nor yet of Zenobia--nor Julia--that wrings the soul and saps its life, like this bitter, bitter disappointment, this base treason of Antiochus. To be so near the summit of our best hopes, only to be cast down into this deep abyss--that is the sting in our calamity that shoots deepest, and for which there is no cure. Is there no other way, father, in which we can explain the capture of the Queen? Accident--could it not be accident that threw the troop of Aurelian in their way?'

'I fear not,' said Gracchus. 'When we add what rumor has heretofore reported of the aims of Antiochus, but which we have all too much contemned him to believe him capable of, to what has now occurred, I think we cannot doubt that he is the author of the evil, seducing into his plot the Queen's slave, through whom he received intelligence of every plan and movement.'

'Ah, cruel treachery! How can one join together the sweet innocent face of Sindarina and such deep hypocrisy! Antiochus surely must have perverted her by magic arts. Of that I am sure. But what fruit can Antiochus hope his treason shall bear for him? Can he think that Palmyra will endure his rule?'

'That,' replied Gracchus, 'must be his hope. The party of the discontented we well know to be large; upon them he thinks he may rely. Then his treason recommending him to Aurelian, he builds upon his power to establish him on the throne, and sustain him there till his own strength shall have grown, so that he can stand alone. That the city will surrender upon the news of the Queen's captivity, he doubtless calculates upon as certain.'

'May his every hope,' cried Fausta, 'be blasted, and a little of the misery he has poured without stint into our hearts wring his own, and when he cries for mercy, may he find none!'

'One hope,' I said here, 'if I know aught of the nature of Aurelian, and upon which he must chiefly found his project, will sink under him to his shame and ruin.'

'What mean you?' said Fausta eagerly.

'His belief that Aurelian will reward baseness though to an enemy. He never did it yet, and he cannot do it. Were there within the thick skull of Antiochus the brains of a foolish ostrich, he would have read in the fate of Heraclammon, the rich traitor of Tyana, his own. If I err not, he has indiscreetly enough thrust himself into a lion's den. If Aurelian is fierce, his is the grand and terrific ferocity of the king of beasts.'

'May it be so!' said Fausta. 'There were no providence in the gods did such villany escape punishment, still less, did it grow great. But if Aurelian is such as you describe him, O then is there not reason in the belief that he will do gently by her? Were it compatible with greatness or generosity--and these, you say, belong to the Emperor--to take revenge upon an enemy, thrown by such means into his power? and such an enemy? and that too a woman? Julia too! O immortal gods, how bitter past drinking is this cup!'

'Yet must you, must we, not lean too confidently upon the dispositions of Aurelian. He is subject, though supreme, to the state, nay, and in some sense to the army; and what he might gladly do of his own free and generous nature, policy and the contrary wishes and sometimes requisitions of his troops, or of the people, compel him to forbear. The usage of Rome toward captive princes has been, and is, cruel. Yet the Emperor does much to modify it, giving it, according to his own temper, a more or less savage character. And Aurelian has displayed great independence in his acts, both of people and soldiers. There is much ground for hope--but it must not pass into confident expectation.'

'You, Lucius, in former days have known Aurelian well, before fortune raised him to this high eminence. You say you were his friend. Could you not--'

'No, I fear with scarce any hope of doing good. My residence here during all these troubles will, I doubt not, raise suspicions in the mind of Aurelian which it will not be easy to allay. But whenever I shall have it in my power to present myself before him, I shall not fail to press upon him arguments which, if he shall act freely, cannot I think but weigh with him.'

'Ought not the city now,' said Fausta, addressing Gracchus, 'to surrender, and, if it can do no better, throw itself upon the mercy of Aurelian? I see not now what can be gained by longer resistance, and would not a still protracted refusal to capitulate, and when it must be without the faintest expectation of ultimate success, tend merely and with certainty to exasperate Aurelian, and perhaps embitter him toward the Queen?'

'I can scarcely doubt that it would,' replied Gracchus. 'The city ought to surrender. Soon as the first flood of grief has spent itself, must we hasten to accomplish it if possible. Longinus, to whom will now be entrusted the chief power, will advocate it I am sure--so will Otho, Seleucus, Gabrayas; but the army will, I fear, be opposed to it, and will, more through a certain pride of their order than from any principle, incline to hold out.--It is time I sought Longinus.'

He departed in search of the Greek. I went forth into the streets to learn the opinions and observe the behavior of the people.

* * * * *

The shades of night are around me--the palace is still--the city sleeps. I resume my pen to add a few words to this epistle, already long, but they are words that convey so much that I cannot but add them for my own pleasure not less than yours. They are in brief these,--Calpurnius is alive and once again returned to us. The conjecture of Isaac was a description of the truth. My brother, knowing well that if apprehended his death were certain, had in the outset resolved, if attacked, rather to provoke his death, and insure it in the violence of a conflict, than be reserved for the axe of the Roman executioner. But in the short moment in which he fell headlong into the river, it flashed across his mind--'The darkness favors my escape--I can reach the shore;' so swimming a short distance below the surface, falling down with the stream and softly rising, concealed himself among the reeds upon the margin of the stream. Finding the field in a short time wholly in possession of Isaac, he revealed himself and joined him, returning to the city as soon as the darkness of the night permitted. Here is a little gleam of light breaking through Fausta's almost solid gloom. A smile has once more played over her features.

In the evening after Calpurnius's return, she tried her harp, but the sounds it gave out only seemed to increase her sorrow, and she threw it from her.

'Music,' said Gracchus, 'is in its nature melancholy, and how, my child, can you think to forget or stifle grief by waking the strings of your harp, whose tones, of all other instruments, are the most melancholy? And yet sometimes sadness seeks sadness, and finds in it its best relief. But now, Fausta? rather let sleep be your minister and nurse.'

So we parted. Farewell.