“To see Antinous in the flames! such a sight is not to be seen every day, to be sure!” cried Verus, ironically, as he sprang into his chariot, and took the reins into his own hand.

Balbilla stamped with rage.

She went to Sabina’s rooms fully resolved to go to the scene of the fire.  The Empress would not let herself be seen by any one, not even by Balbilla, till she was completely dressed.  A waiting-woman told Balbilla that Sabina would get up certainly, but that for the sake of her health she could not venture out in the night-air.

The poetess then sought Lucilla and begged her to accompany her to Lochias; she was perfectly willing and ready, but when she heard that her husband had wished that the women should remain at the Caesareum she declared that she owed him obedience and tried to keep back her friend.  But the perverse curly-haired girl was fully determined, precisely because Verus had forbidden her—­and forbidden her with mocking words, to carry out her purpose.  After a short altercation with Lucilla she left her, sought her companion Claudia, told her what she intended doing, dismissed that lady’s remonstrance with a very positive command, gave orders herself to the house-steward to have horses put to a chariot and reached the imperilled palace an hour and a half after Verus.

An endless, many-headed crowd of people besieged the narrow end of Lochias on the landward side and the harbor wharves below, where some stores and shipyards were in flames.  Boats innumerable were crowded round the little peninsula.  An attempt was being made, with much shouting, and by the combined exertions of an immense number of men, to get the larger ships afloat which lay at anchor close to the quay of the King’s harbor and to place them in security.  Every thing far and wide was lighted up as brightly as by day, but with a ruddier and more restless light.  The north-east breeze fanned the fire, aggravating the labors of the men who were endeavoring to extinguish it and snatching flakes of flame off every burning mass.  Each blazing storehouse was a gigantic torch throwing a broad glare into the darkness of the night.  The white marble of the tallest beacon tower in the world, on the island of Pharos, reflected a rosy hue, but its far gleaming light shone pale and colorless.  The dark hulls of the larger ships and the flotilla of boats in the background were afloat in a fiery sea, and the still water under the shore mirrored the illumination in which the whole of Lochias was wrapped.

Balbilla could not tire of admiring this varying scene, in which the most gorgeous hues vied with each other and the intensest light contrasted with the deepest shadows.  And she had ample time to dwell on the marvellous picture before her eyes, for her chariot could only proceed slowly, and at a point where the street led up from the King’s harbor to the palace, lictors stood in her way and declared positively