Young Vestals and maid-servants were cowering on their knees, or prone on cushions, writhing and screaming with fear unspeakable.

A swart Spanish brigand, with his sabre gripped in his teeth, was tearing a gold-thread and silk covering from a pillow; a second plunderer was wrenching from its chain a silver lamp.

Demetrius rushed past these also, before any could inquire whether he was not a comrade in infamy.

But there were other shouts from the peristylium, other cries and meanings.

As the pirate sprang to the head of the passage leading to the inner house, a swarm of desperadoes poured through it, Gauls, Germans, Africans, Italian renegadoes,--perhaps ten in all,--and in their midst--half borne, half dragged--something white! "_Io triumphe!_" called a voice from the throng, "my bird will leave her cage!" "The lady! Gabinius!" cried Agias, and, without waiting for his cousin, the young Greek flung himself forward.