The festivity did not cease with the passing of the brilliant procession. In the afternoon the diversion of the populace, the festival of the poor, would take place. The race of the flaming torch would be held along the walls. Mariners, potters, laborers, all the free and poor people of the port and the country in wild career, would carry lighted torches in memory of Prometheus. He who accomplished the feat of making the round of the city, keeping his torch still burning, would be declared winner; those who let theirs go out, or who traveled slowly to protect the flames, would be greeted with hisses and blows by the crowd. Even the rich gave vent to enthusiasm over this popular festival which produced so much merriment.
Near the Acropolis, when the procession was wholly within its walls, Alorcus discerned among the people a Celtiberian mounted on a horse covered with foam and sweat, beckoning him to approach.
Alorcus, turning away from the troop of horsemen, trotted towards him.
"What do you want?" he asked, in the harsh language of his country.
"I am one of your tribe, and your father is my chief. I have just reached Saguntum after traveling three days to say to you; 'Alorcus, your father is dying, and he calls for you.' The ancients of your tribe have ordered me not to return without you."
Actæon had followed his friend, breaking away from the sacred squadron, and witnessed the dialogue without understanding a word, although he guessed something disagreeable by the Celtiberian's pale face.
"My father is dying, and he has sent for me."
"I must go immediately. My people demand my presence."
The two horsemen began the descent to the city, followed by the Celtiberian messenger.
Actæon sympathized with his comrade's emotion. At the same time the curiosity of the traveler, so often aroused by the Celtiberian's tales, was awakened within him.
"Do you wish me to accompany you, Alorcus?"
The young man received the proposition with a look of gratitude. Then he declined, saying that he must depart in haste; the Greek might wish to bid farewell to Sónnica; perhaps the separation would be a grief to her; and he desired to start on the journey at once.
"We will omit the farewell," said the Greek in his light, happy manner. "Sónnica will be resigned when I make known to her through a slave that I shall be absent for some days. Do you wish to leave immediately? I will accompany you. I am curious to see that land with its strange customs, and its valiant and sturdy inhabitants, of whose brave deeds you have so often told me."