Supposing, too, that the lady Euryale had been tired of waiting and had given her up!  There would then be nothing for it but to make her way back to the town past the guards, or to enter the temple through the great gates—­where that dreadful man was—­and where she would at once be recognized!  Then there could be no escape, none—­and she must, yes, she must evade her dreadful suitor.  Every thought of Diodoros cried, “You must!”—­even at the cost of her young life, of which, indeed, she saw the imminent end nearer and nearer with every step.  She knew not whither her flight might take her, but a voice within declared that it would be to an early grave.

Only a narrow strip of sky was visible between the tall buildings, but, as she looked up to the heavens, she perceived that it was two hours past midnight.  She hurried on, but presently checked her pace again.  From the square, three trumpet-calls, one after another, rang through the silence of the night.  What could these signals mean at so unwonted an hour?

There could be but one explanation—­Caesar had again condemned some hapless wretch to death, and he was being led to execution.  When Vindex and his nephew were beheaded, three trumpet-calls had sounded; her brother had told her so.

And now, before her inward eye, rose the crowd of victims to Caracalla’s thirst for blood.  She fancied that Plautilla, whom her imperial consort had murdered, was beckoning her to follow her to an early grave.  The terrors of the night were too much for her; and, as when a child, at play with her brothers, she flew on as fast as her feet would carry her.  She fled as though she were pursued, her long dress hampering her steps, along by the temple wall, till her gaze, fixed on her left, fell on the spot which had been designated to her.

Here she stopped, out of breath; and, while she was identifying the landmarks which she had impressed on her memory to guide her to the right doorway, the temple wall seemed to open before her as if by a charm, and a kind voice called her name, and then exclaimed, “At last!” and in a moment she had grasped Euryale’s hand and was drawn into the building.

Here, as if at the touch of a magician’s wand, all fear and horror vanished; and, although she still panted for breath, she would at once have explained to her beloved protectress what it was that had prompted her to run so fast, but that Euryale interrupted her, exclaiming:  “Only make haste!  No one must see that block of porphyry turn on its pin.  It is invisible from the outside, and closes the passage by which the mystics and adepts find their way to the mysteries after dedication.  All who know of it are sworn to secrecy.”

With this she led the way into a dark vestibule adjoining the temple, and in a few moments the great block of stone which had admitted them had turned into its place again.  Those who passed by, even in broad sunshine, could not distinguish it from all the other blocks of which the ground-floor of the edifice was built.