One
after another these banished recollections returned to his memory as he
listened to Alaric's rebuking words--reviving past infirmities, opening
old wounds, inflicting new lacerations. But, saving the shudderings
that still shook his body, no outward witness betrayed the inward
torment that assailed him. It was too strong for human words, too
terrible for human sympathy;--he suffered it in brute silence.
Monstrous as was his plot, the moral punishment of its attempted
consummation was severe enough to be worthy of the projected crime.
After watching the man for a few minutes more, with a glance of pitiless
disdain, Alaric summoned one of the warriors in attendance; and, having
previously commanded him to pass the word to the sentinels, authorising
the stranger's free passage through the encampment, he then turned, and,
for the last time, addressed him as follows:--
'Return to Rome, through the hole whence, reptile-like, you emerged!--
and feed your starving citizens with the words you have heard in the
barbarian's tent!'
The guard approached, led him from the presence of the king, issued the
necessary directions to the sentinels, and left him to himself.
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