well you could show me the path to death! Alas! what an artist dies in me!"

While he was speaking, a sound arrested his attention. It was well known. It was the sound of a troop of horse. They were in pursuit.

Nero started.

He shuddered in his fear. But fear could not destroy his ruling passion. It was not his words, but the words of Homer that burst from him,

"The sound of rapid rushing steeds is striking on my ear."

Seizing one of his daggers, he mustered all his courage and plunged it in his throat. One of the attendants lent his aid to a second blow. It was a mortal wound. Nero fell back dying. They lifted him on the couch.

Not long after, the pursuers who had by some means or other learned his hiding-place, entered the house, and rushed into the room headed by a centurion. The centurion tried to stop the flow of blood.

Nero languidly raised his eyes.

"Too late," he said, and then added in a scarce audible voice, "Is this your fidelity?"

The next instant all was over.

He lay dead, but in death still terrible, for the impress of his fierce passions yet remained to awe the beholders. The mastery of those passions by which he had been governed for years had left its impress on his features. His face which in youth had not been unpleasing, had become terrible and fierce in its expression, and even in death the ferocity remained and struck terror into those who stood near.

XXXV.

JUDEA.

HILE the armies of the West were thus rebelling against the emperor, the armies of the East were putting down a rebellion.

Vespasian left Nero in Greece, and wielded the strength of Rome in Judea. He encountered no common foe. The Jews were a warlike people, brave and resolute, and they were defending their own country. That country was formed by nature for defence. Whatever plains it had were surrounded by mountains which, acted as a bulwark against the invader, where brave men although undisciplined, could make a heroic defence, and often keep an army at bay. Among the mountains there were passes which no invader could penetrate without a most severe struggle, and stout-hearted men were there who were ready to make every pass another Thermopyla.

These men had something more than the common bravery of a valorous race. They were inspired by a great idea. Every man believed that God was on his side; he called to mind the glories of the past when that God had interposed to save them, and had enabled them to overcome enemies as terrible as the Romans. The sacred Psalms, which formed part of their religious service, commemorated the national triumphs won in the past, and no man who sang them could doubt that they would be repeated in the future. Even defeat, though it continued in long succession, could not shake their resolution, or weaken their confidence in God. They still looked forward to the time when he would inter

pose, and when his help would be all the more conspicuous from the fact that it had been long delayed. So each defeat found them as determined as ever; and if they retreated from one place, it was only to renew the conflict in another. This fierce fanaticism of the Jews inspired all alike, men, women, and children. They had been born and nurtured in a nation where one idea was universal, and that was the settled conviction that they were the chosen, and favored people of the Most High. Surrender was never thought of. In all their fights the only alternative of victory was death. There was no middle ground. This resolution was strengthened, if it could be strengthened, by the wretched fate of those prisoners who fell into the hands of the Romans. They were made slaves of the worst kind, and sent to labor at the canal at Corinth. Every new incident of the war, whether it was a success or a reverse, only strengthened the stubborn temper of the Jews, and made them fight with a more reckless desperation, and more deathless ardor.

An ordinary general might have failed before such enemies as these; so fierce, so reckless, so lavish of life, so patient, and so vigilant; an enemy who waited not to be attacked, but flung themselves upon their foes with an impetuous charge, that sometimes bore down everything; who were not content with fighting by daylight, but attacked with equal energy by night; who fell back only to make a fresh assault, and even in death hurled defiance at the conqueror.

But Vespasian was a general of no common kind. His men had been brought into the best possible discipline, and he knew how to make use of them to the best advantage. To the fanaticism of the Jews he opposed the disciplined valor of the Roman legions, and his own genius. Gradually the latter prevailed, and slowly but surely the Roman eagles were borne forward over the land, and the Jews fell back sullenly, still fighting, and still looking for the long-expected deliverer.

This was the conflict into which Labeo and Cineas had

thrown themselves, and this was the general under whom they fought. They thought nothing of the justness of their cause, because they took it for granted that it was just, since it was a war against rebels. The name of Rome was enough to them. But it was not a cause which they sought; their object was war, in the fury and the ardor of which they hoped to find respite from the grief that consumed them. It is action, vigorous action that can keep the mind from preying on itself; and it was action that they desired, little caring what that action might be.

From the first moment of their arrival in Judea they had found what they desired, the wild excitement of active war against a race of vigilant, and courageous enemies. They at once entered upon this new life with an ardor, an eagerness, and a recklessness which made them both conspicuous. Their unfaltering friendship, their close association, and their union both in the fight and out of it, made them famous both among their own men and the enemy. They undertook the most desperate enterprises, and one was as reckless of his life as the other. Wherever one went, the other went also, and this union in friendship and in valor soon made them so marked, that the Roman armies regarded these two as their especial champions and the camp rang with their fame. Cineas was rapidly advanced, and might have had command of a legion if he had wished it, but Labeo had already been promoted to such a command, and Cineas had no higher desire than to be as near as possible to his friend. Promotion was nothing to him. He was only glad that his advance had been sufficiently rapid to enable him to continue with Labeo, and live in the same tent, and be near him in the conflict. Promotion made no difference in their conduct in battle. Labeo showed more recklessness than was considered wise in the commander of a legion, and led his men to the most perilous undertakings, and Cineas, who had less responsibilities, risked his person more freely still.

The tumult of battle, the necessity of continuous vigilance, the fatigue of constant marches, the excitement of victory, all served to give occupation to their thoughts, and draw them away from those memories which were so agonizing. Labeo thought no more of suicide. In the care which he had to bestow upon his command, he found that this life had yet occupation for his thoughts and demands upon his regard. Patriotism awaked and put forward its claims. Military ardor entered into rivalry with sorrowful regret, and being more active and more passionate proved superior. The great responsibility which now rested upon him brought its own cares and its own anxieties; his mind was forced to occupy itself in plans of attack or of defence; he had to take part in council with the other generals, and recall all his experience in the past so as to make it useful in the present. Such things as these took up a large share of his thoughts, but little time was left for other things. When he was able to think, these subjects forced themselves before him, and demanded consideration, and when he was unable to give them his thoughts, their weariness and fatigue overpowered him, and he often turned from his professional cares to sleep.

As it was with Labeo, so it was with Cineas. New occupation of mind brought new cares and new thoughts, not perhaps so weighty as those of his friend, but still sufficiently important to employ the greater part of his attention. In his inferior position also, he had less responsibility, and greater opportunity for displaying individual valor. He headed fierce charges, led off desperate expeditions, and in every enterprise which demanded peculiar daring, and utter carelessness of life, he stood forward most prominently as the leader. Thus each in a different way, but in the same employment, had found that which they most desired, – a respite from sorrow.

The war went on, and still, in spite of the most heroic resistance, the Jews were driven back before the armies of Rome. The strategic skill of Vespasian over matched their