Out of the vague night ahead, massed roofs went up stark to the flushed red jagged driving clouds, when a man started out of the shadows close ahead--an old grey man in a priest's cassock, brandishing a red-edged crucifix. Oregon shied; then, under lash of spurs, reared up pawing the air. "Beware!" shrieked the priest. "Beware! Babylon is fallen--Babylon the Great is fallen--is fallen! The scarlet whore reigns yonder, and vengeance descends from Heaven on her crimes. You're riding headlong to destruction! Back!" The trooper lashed his horse with the flat of his sword, and far away behind him heard the cry, "Babylon is fallen--is fallen!" The pools were red, the mire was red, the wide street red as blood under an immensity of glowing, rolling smoke, and ever in front the near horizons lifted against great heaps of flame. Down a bye-street to the left a house burned furiously, but the pavement in front of it was empty. Hollow echoes rang to the horse's tramp, but the vacant silence ahead showed never a sign of man. Was the lost capital wholly abandoned? Here a row of shops had been sacked, their wares thrown wide across the roadway. Beyond, the street was blocked with acres of ruins, and circling round back ways to find a passage, Lancaster heard gun shots, saw the flicker of torches; then, turning a corner, came suddenly upon a blood-stained drunken mob plundering houses. Spoil was scattered everywhere; dead men and drunk sprawled on the litter; tables were spread upon the pavement; orators were wrangling over their wine--a Republican court in session for the trial of three gentlewomen, who stood in drenched night-robes lashed together with ropes. Lancaster charged that court, rode the judges under, cut them down, forgot his message to the Queen, forgot the saving of the gentlewomen, vaguely supposed that the fight was a dream to be enjoyed, and went on slaughtering. He was surrounded, he was attacked on all sides; men were firing upon him from the houses on all sides--then something struck off his helmet, blinding his eyes, and Oregon, maddened with the burning pain of a torch against his flank, broke away screaming at a headlong gallop. * * * * * The empty street reached away between gaunt, enormous ruins under a sky of flame and roaring thunder, when Lancaster reined Oregon to a walk, borne slowly forward by a hurricane of wind; wiped the blood from his eyes, and, looking about him, knew that this was Knightsbridge. A body of cavalry swung down through the gates of the park, wheeled half-right, and broke to a trot directly athwart his course, their silver armour glowing with ruby light--a squadron of the Guard. * * * * * "_Let death seize upon them, and let them go down quick into hell. For wickedness is in their dwellings._" Miss Temple was reading at our Lady's bedside, and her voice went on slowly, monotonously through the terrible minatory Psalms.