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p>''Tis but the winter wind!' cried Fronto. 'On, cowards, with your work!'
But, ere the words had left his lips, or those demons could wind the wheels of their engine, the appalling tumult of a multitude rushing toward the temple became too fearfully distinct for even Pronto or Varus to pretend to doubt its meaning. But why it was, or for what, none could guess; only upon the terror-struck forms of both the Prefect and the Priest might be read apprehensions of hostility that from some quarter was aiming at themselves. Fronto's voice was again heard:
'Bar the great doors of the temple! let not the work of the gods be profanely violated.'
But the words were too late; for, while he was yet speaking, O Fausta, how shall I paint my agony of joy! there was heard from the street and from the porch of the temple itself the shouts of as it were ten thousand voices,
"Tacitus is Emperor!" "Long live the good Tacitus!"
Freedom and life were in those cries. The crowds from the streets swept in at the doors like an advancing torrent. Varus and Fronto, followed by their myrmidons, vanished through secret doors in the walls behind them, and among the first to greet me and strike the chains from my limbs were Isaac and Demetrius.
'And where is the lady Julia?' cried Isaac.
'There!'
He flew to the platform, and, turning back the wheels, Julia was once more in my arms.
'And now,' I cried, 'what means it all? Am I awake or do I dream?'
'You are awake,' replied Demetrius. 'The tyrant is dead! and the senate and people all cry out for Tacitus.'
I now looked about me. The mob of priests was fled, and around me I beheld a thousand well-known faces of those who already had been released from their dungeons. Christians, and the friends of Christians, now filled the temple.
'We were led hither,' continued Demetrius, 'by your fast friend and the friend I believe of all, Isaac. None but he, and those to whom he gave the tidings, knew where the place of your c