The marauder's thirst for present plunder, and the conqueror's lofty ambition of future glory, now stirred in strong conflict within him.

He walked to the opening of the tent, and thrusting aside its curtain of skins, looked out upon Rome in silence.
The dazzling majesty of the temples and palaces of the mighty city, as they towered before him, gleaming in the rays of the unclouded sunlight, fixed him long in contemplation.

Gradually, dreams of a future dominion amid those unrivalled structures, which now waited but his word to be pillaged and destroyed, filled his aspiring soul, and saved the city from his wrath.

He turned again toward the shrinking ambassadors--in a voice and look superior to them as a being of a higher sphere--and spoke thus:-- 'When the Gothic conqueror reigns in Italy, the palaces of her rulers shall be found standing for the places of his sojourn.

I will ordain a lower ransom; I will spare Rome.' A murmur arose among the warriors behind him.