'Security!' cried Alaric fiercely, instantly relapsing as they spoke
into his sterner mood. 'Behold yonder the future security of the Goths
for the faith of Rome!' and flinging aside the curtain of the tent, he
pointed proudly to the long lines of his camp, stretching round all that
was visible of the walls of the fallen city.
The ambassadors remembered the massacre of the hostages of Aquileia, and
the evasion of the payment of tribute-money promised in former days, and
were silent as they looked through the opening of the tent.
'Remember the conditions of the ransom,' pursued Alaric in warning
tones, 'remember my security that the ransom shall be quickly paid! So
shall you live for a brief space in security, and feast and be merry
again while your territories yet remain to you. Go! I have spoken--it
is enough!'
He withdrew abruptly from the senators, and the curtain of the tent fell
behind them as they passed out. The ordeal of the judgment was over;
the final sentence had been pronounced; the time had already arrived to
go forth and obey it.
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