The last words were quoted from his master who had studied in Athens.  They had escaped from his burdened soul when he heard of another portent, of which a ship from Ostia had brought tidings.  The flourishing city Pisaura—­

Here, however, he was interrupted, for several of those present had learned, weeks before, that this place had sunk in the sea, but merely pitied the unfortunate inhabitants.

Beryllus quietly permitted them to free themselves from the suspicion that people in Alexandria had had tidings of so remarkable an event later than those in Pelusium, and at first answered their query what this had to do with the war merely by a shrug of the shoulders; but when the overseer of the porters also put the question, he went on “The omen made a specially deep impression upon our minds, for we know what Pisaura is, or rather how it came into existence.  The hapless city which dark Hades ingulfed really belonged to Antony, for in the days of its prosperity he was its founder.”

He measured the group with a defiant glance, and there was no lack of evidences of horror; nay, one of the maid-servants shrieked aloud, for the storm had just snatched a torch from the iron rings in the wall and hurled it on the floor close beside the listener.

Suspense seemed to have reached its height.  Yet it was evident that Beryllus had not yet drawn his last arrow from the quiver.

The maid-servant, whose scream had startled the others, had regained her composure and seemed eager to hear some other new and terrible omen, for, with a beseeching glance, she begged the freedman not to withhold the knew.

He pointed to the drops of perspiration which, spite of the wind sweeping through the hall, covered her brow:  “You must use your handkerchief.  Merely listening to my tale will dampen your skin.  Stone statues are made of harder material, but a soul dwells within them too.  Their natures may be harsher or more gentle; they bring us woe or heal heavy sorrows, according to their mood.  Every one learns this who raises his hands to them in prayer.  One of these statues stands in Alba.  It represents Mark Antony, in whose honour it was erected by the city.  And it foresaw what menaced the man whose stone double it is.  Ay, open your ears!  About four days ago a ship’s captain came to my master and in my presence this man reported—­he grew as pale as ashes while he spoke—­what he himself had witnessed.  Drops of perspiration had oozed from the statue of Antony in Alba.  Horror seized all the citizens; men and women came to wipe the brow and cheeks of the statue, but the drops of perspiration did not cease to drip, and this continued several days and nights.  The stone image had felt what was impending over the living Mark Antony.  It was a horrible spectacle, the man said.”

Here the speaker paused, and the group of listeners started, for the clang of a gong was heard outside, and the next instant all were on their feet hastening to their posts.