Their search had hitherto been fruitless, and unrewarded even by the discovery of any wounded friends or comrades, for this was the place in which the battle had been most desperately contested, and few had fallen here but to die almost on the instant. But now a weak voice was heard calling to the general. "Petreius, he is here! here! He is here, noble Petreius!" "The immortal Gods be praised!" cried Julia, interpreting the casual words at once to signify Arvina, and giving her palfrey the rein, she gallopped to the spot, followed by Petreius shaking his head gloomily; for he was not so deceived. "Who? who is here?" exclaimed the general. "Ha! my stout Pansa, right glad am I to find you living. See to him, quickly, Postumus, and Capito. But whom do you mean? Who is here?" "Catiline! Paullus Arvina slew him!"— "By all the Gods!" exclaimed Petreius, leaping down from his horse and gazing at the hideous mutilated carcase, still breathing a little, and retaining in its face that ferocity of soul which had distinguished it while living! But swifter yet than he, Julia sprang from her saddle, and rushed heedless and unconscious, through pools of blood, ancle deep, treading on human corpses, in her wild haste, and cast herself down on the well known armor, the casque crested and the cloak embroidered by her own delicate hands, which could alone be distinguished of her lover’s prostrate form. "Aye! me! aye me! dead! dead! my own Arvina!" "Alas! alas!"—cried Petreius, "Raise her up; raise them both, this is most lamentable!"— "Never heed me!" said the veteran Pansa, eagerly, to the officers who were busy raising him from the ground. "Help the poor girl! Help the brave youth! He may be living yet, though I fear me not. It is my fault, alas! that he is not living now!" "Thy fault, old Pansa, how can that be, my friend?—who slew him?" Once more the rigid features of Catiline relaxed into a horrid smile, the glaring eyes again opened, and starting half upright he shook his hand aloft, and with a frightful effort, half laugh, half groan, half words articulate, sneered fiendishly—"I! I. Ha! ha! I did. Ha! ha! ha! ha!"— But at the same instant there was a joyous cry from the officers who had lifted Paullus, and a rapturous shriek from Julia. "He is not dead!" "His hurts are not mortal, lady, it is but loss of blood," "He lives! he lives!"— "Curses! cur—cur—ha! ha!—this—this is—Hades!" The fierce sneer died from the lips, a look of horror glared from the savage eyes, the jaw gibbered and fell, a quick spasm shook the strong frame, and in a paroxysm of frustrated spite, and disappointed fury, the dark spirit, which had never spared or pitied, went to its everlasting home.