The little procession slowly made its way through the brushwood; Euterpe, indefatigable, led the way. In her left hand she carried the dark lantern, with which now and again she lighted up some especially perilous spot, while with her right hand she held aside the boughs of the shrubs. The gale was still blowing through the dripping trees, and squalls of rain swept over them with a rush and roar. After a short but difficult walk they reached the foot-bridge, and turned off to the east, leaving the brook Almo behind them, and then by degrees the forest grew thinner. When at last they reached the open, they saw before them the arches of the Claudian aqueduct,[353] stretching black and ponderous across the plains. The wind had parted the clouds here and there over the eastern horizon, and a few stars shone fitfully through the rifts, but this made the darkness, which brooded over the whole creation, all the more sensible. Again they went over a wooden bridge--then under an arch of the aqueduct, and a few minutes after through that of another, the Aqua Marcia.[354] So far they had kept to the road. Now, however, they quitted it, and for a time cut across fields and meadows, over wide pools and ditches, and through brushwood. A quarter of an hour, half an hour, a whole hour of this toil, and they had not yet reached the Labicanian Way,[355] towards which they were marching. Diphilus held out bravely, but Blepyrus, who was not of the strongest, and who was accustomed only to the lightest toil, panted so painfully, that Quintus could not bear to see it. “Give me hold,” he said with rough good nature. “Why, you are groaning like a mule dragging blocks of stone.” “My lord!” said Blepyrus out of breath. “You see I can hold out a little longer.” “I see just the reverse. Stop a minute, Diphilus--there! now get your breath again, Blepyrus, and fill your lungs. In ten minutes we will change again.” “But, my lord, what are you thinking of?” “Do not talk, but save your wind.” Euterpe, always thoughtful, offered the exhausted man a draught of mead. Blepyrus drank it eagerly, and the strange convoy went on its way again through the silent night. They were indeed a strange party for any one who could have seen them! A youth of senatorial rank serving as litter-bearer to one slave, while another walked idle by his side! Quintus thought of his friends and equals, and could not help smiling; but with his next breath he sighed, for he thought of his father. He knew indeed, that Titus Claudius would not have hesitated to lend a hand if needed for the rescue of the meanest of his dependents; Titus Claudius, no less, would have bent his shoulder to the strap of a slave’s litter in case of need. And yet, what bitter grief, what implacable resentment would that generous man feel, if only he could see--could guess...!