She clung closer to him.
Clearer, shriller, no longer a fancy, his mother's cry arose.
He hesitated no longer.
"Come, then, let us go." The terrace or gallery at the foot of the steps was crowded with soldiers.

Other soldiers with drawn swords ran in and out of the chambers.

At one place a number of women on their knees clung to each other or prayed for mercy.

Apart from them, one with torn garments, and long hair streaming over her face, struggled to tear loose from a man all whose strength was tasked to keep his hold.

Her cries were shrillest of all; cutting through the clamor, they had risen distinguishably to the roof.