Meanwhile Nydia, when separated by the throng from Glaucus and Ione, had in vain endeavored to regain them.  In vain she raised that plaintive cry so peculiar to the blind; it was lost amidst a thousand shrieks of more selfish terror.  Again and again she returned to the spot where they had been divided—­to find her companions gone, to seize every fugitive—­to inquire of Glaucus—­to be dashed aside in the impatience of distraction.  Who in that hour spared one thought to his neighbor?  Perhaps in scenes of universal horror, nothing is more horrid than the unnatural selfishness they engender.  At length it occurred to Nydia, that as it had been resolved to seek the sea-shore for escape, her most probable chance of rejoining her companions would be to persevere in that direction.  Guiding her steps, then, by the staff which she always carried, she continued, with incredible dexterity, to avoid the masses of ruin that encumbered the path—­to thread the streets—­and unerringly (so blessed now was that accustomed darkness, so afflicting in ordinary life!) to take the nearest direction to the sea-side.

Poor girl!—­her courage was beautiful to behold!—­and Fate seemed to favor one so helpless!  The boiling torrents touched her not, save by the general rain which accompanied them; the huge fragments of scoria shivered the pavement before and beside her, but spared that frail form:  and when the lesser ashes fell over her, she shook them away with a slight tremor,’ and dauntlessly resumed her course.

Weak, exposed, yet fearless, supported but by one wish, she was a very emblem of Psyche in her wanderings; of Hope, walking through the Valley of the Shadow; of the Soul itself—­lone but undaunted, amidst the dangers and the snares of life!

Her path was, however, constantly impeded by the crowds that now groped amidst the gloom, now fled in the temporary glare of the lightnings across the scene; and, at length, a group of torch-bearers rushing full against her, she was thrown down with some violence.

‘What!’ said the voice of one of the party, ’is this the brave blind girl!  By Bacchus, she must not be left here to die!  Up, my Thessalian!  So—­so.  Are you hurt?  That’s well!  Come along with us! we are for the shore!’

’O Sallust! it is thy voice!  The gods be thanked!  Glaucus!  Glaucus!  Glaucus! have ye seen him?’

’Not I. He is doubtless out of the city by this time.  The gods who saved him from the lion will save him from the burning mountain.’

As the kindly epicure thus encouraged Nydia, he drew her along with him towards the sea, heeding not her passionate entreaties that he would linger yet awhile to search for Glaucus; and still, in the accent of despair, she continued to shriek out that beloved name, which, amidst all the roar of the convulsed elements, kept alive a music at her heart.