THE third watch of the night was drawing to a close, and the mighty city lay buried in the deepest silence, unbroken, save by the occasional tramp of the Nocturnal Triumviri, as they passed on their rounds to see that the fire-watchmen were at their posts, or perhaps by the footstep of one lounging homewards from a late debauch. The last streak of the waning moon faintly illumined the temples of the Capitol and the Quadrigæ, and shot a feeble gleam over the fanes and palaces of the Alta Semita, whose roofs, clad with verdant shrubs and flowers, diffused their spicy odours through the warm night-air, and, while indicating the abode of luxury and joy, gave no sign of the dismal proximity of the Campus Sceleratus.

In the midst of this general stillness, the door of one of the handsomest houses creaked upon its hinges; its vestibule ornamented with masterpieces of Grecian sculpture, its walls overlaid with costly foreign marble, and its doors and doorposts richly decorated with tortoise-shell and precious metals, sufficiently proclaimed the wealth of its owner. The ostiarius, rattling the chain that served as a safeguard against nocturnal depredators, opened the unbolted door, disclosing as he did so the prospect into the entrance-hall, where a few of the numerous lamps were still burning on two lofty marble candelabra,—a proof that the inmates had not yet retired for the night.