“The hail-storm will not last,” said Petronius. “We must wait even till daybreak.”
They waited, listening to hear the sound of the procession. The hail-storm passed, but immediately after a shower began to roar. At times the wind rose, and brought from the “Putrid Pits” a dreadful odor of decaying bodies, buried near the surface and carelessly.
“I see a light through the mist,” said Niger,—“one, two, three,—those are torches. See that the mules do not snort,” said he, turning to the men.
“They are coming!” said Petronius.
The lights were growing more and more distinct. After a time it was possible to see torches under the quivering flames.
Niger made the sign of the cross, and began to pray. Meanwhile the gloomy procession drew nearer, and halted at last in front of the temple of Libi
