One evening, when the court was assembled to hear Nero recite some of
his poetry, a slave appeared.
"Pardon, Divine Imperator, Rome is burning! The whole city is a sea of
flames!" A moment of horrified silence followed, broken by the cry of
Vinicius. He rushed forth, and, springing on his horse, dashed into the
deep night. A horseman, rushing also like a whirlwind, but in the
opposite direction, toward Antium, shouted as he raced past: "Rome is
perishing!" To the ears of Vinicius came only one more expression:
"Gods!" The rest was drowned by the thunder of hoofs. But the expression
sobered him. "Gods!" He raised his head suddenly, and, stretching his
arms toward the sky filled with stars, began to pray.
"Not to you, whose temples are burning, do I call, but to Thee. Thou
Thyself hast suffered. Thou alone hast understood people's pain. If Thou
art what Peter and Paul declare, save Lygia. Seek her in the burning;
save her and I will give Thee my blood!"
Before he had reached the top of the mountain he felt the wind on his
face, and with it the odor of smoke came to his nostrils.
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