On a certain night, about an hour before the dawn, Miriam woke Nehushta, telling her that she was stifling there in those vaults and must ascend the tower.  Nehushta said that it was folly, whereon Miriam answered that she would go alone.  This she would not suffer her to do, so together they passed up the stairs according to custom, and, having gained the base of the tower through the swinging door of stone, climbed the steps that ran in the thickness of the wall till they reached the topmost gallery.  Here they sat, fanned by the faint night wind, and watched the fires of the Romans stretched far and wide around the walls and even among the ruins of the houses almost beneath them, since that part of the city was taken.

Presently the dawn broke, a splendid, fearful dawn.  It was as though the angel of the daybreak had dipped his wing into a sea of blood and dashed it against the brow of Night, still crowned with her fading stars.  Of a sudden the heavens were filled with blots and threads of flaming colour latticed against the pale background of the twilight sky.  Miriam watched it with a kind of rapture, letting its glory and its peace sink into her troubled soul, while from below arose the sound of awakening camps making ready for the daily battle.  Soon a ray of burning light, cast like a spear from the crest of the Mount of Olives across the Valley of Jehoshaphat, struck full upon the gold-roofed Temple and its courts.  At its coming, as though at a signal, the northern gates were thrown wide, and through them poured a flood of gaunt and savage warriors.  They came on in thousands, uttering fierce war-cries.  Some pickets of Romans tried to stay their rush; in a minute they were overcome and destroyed.  Now they were surging round the feet of a great wooden tower filled with archers.  Here the fight was desperate, for the soldiers of Titus rushed up by companies to defend their engine.  But they could not drive back that onset, and presently the tower was on fire, and in a last mad effort to save their lives its defenders were casting themselves headlong from the lofty platform.  With shouts of triumph the Jews rushed through the breaches in the second wall, and leaving what remained of the castle of Antonia on the left, poured down into the maze of streets and ruined houses that lay immediately behind the Old Tower whence Miriam watched.

In front of this building, which the Romans had never attempted to enter, since for military purposes it was useless to them, lay the open space, once, no doubt, part of its garden, but of late years used as a cattle market and a place where young men exercised themselves in arms.  Bordering the waste on its further side were strong fortifications, the camping ground of the twelfth and fifteenth legions.  Across this open space those who remained of the Romans fled back towards their outer line, followed by swarms of furious Jews.  They gained them, such as were not overtaken, but the Jews who pursued were met with