Without, the Romans planted scaling ladders, mounted them and were pitched backward into the moat regularly.  Regularly, the ladders were set up again after struggle, mounted without hesitation and thrown down again, with an inevitability which furnished a grim travesty to the struggle.  The two remaining towers were set in position against the base of Moriah and resumed execution.  One after another the engines of the Romans were hauled into position, and worked unceasingly until covered with burning oil from the battlements above and consumed.  Others were hauled into place; fresh detachments of Romans seized upon the scaling-ladders or mounted to the towers, and the roar of the conflict never abated.

Meanwhile on the slopes of Zion the whole of Jerusalem, gaunt, dying and demoniacal, was packed in the ruins of the palace of Herod.

Old Momus with triumph and tearful exultation was holding out to Laodice a heavy roll of writings, dangling important seals, ancient papers showing yellow beside the fresh parchment, and an old record dark with long handling.

Here were the proofs of her identity!

Laodice shrank from him with a gasp that was almost a cry.  Behold, the faithful old servant had suffered she knew not what to bring such evidence as would force her to do that which she believed she could not do and survive!

Momus sought to put the papers in her hands, but she thrust them away and he stood looking at her in amazement and sorrow.

Nathan, the Christian, stood close to her.  From the opposite side, Philadelphus rounded the outskirts of the mob, searching.  He did not see her.  She flung herself between Momus and Nathan and cowered down until Philadelphus had passed from sight.  When she lifted her head, Momus was gazing at her with the light of shocked comprehension growing in his eyes.  Nathan, the Christian, touched her.

“Who was that man?” he asked gravely.

She rose and laid her hands on the Christian’s shoulders.

“My husband,” she said.

Something had happened at the Temple.  She saw the Jews at the wall recoil from the dust of battle, rally, plunge in and disappear.  From out that presently shone now and again, then with increasing frequency and finally in great numbers, the brass mail of Roman legionaries.  Titus’ forces had scaled the wall.

From her position, she saw running toward them John of Gischala, with his long garments whipping about him, wrapping his tall figure in live cerements.  He was disarmed and bleeding.  She saw next Amaryllis, with compassionate uplifted hands stop in his way; saw next the Gischalan thrust her aside with a blow and the next instant disappear as if the earth had swallowed him.

Nathan was speaking to her.

“How often, O my daughter, we recognize truth and deny it because it does not give us our way!  God put a sense of the right in us.  We transgress it oftener than we mistake it!”