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opitiatory grimaces-it seemed a lifetime. At last the living Sibyl, whose name was Amalthea, quite a young woman too, revealed herself. The red shaft of light failed, so that Deiphobe disappeared-somebody, probably the novice, had covered up the tiny red-glass window-and a new shaft, white, struck down and lit up Amalthea seated on an ivory throne [link widoczny dla zalogowanych] in the shadows behind. She had a beautiful, mad-looking face with a high forehead and sat as motionless as Deiphobe. But her eyes were closed. My knees shook and I fell into a stammer from which I could not extricate myself.
"O Sib… Sib… Sib… Sib… Sib…" I began. She opened her eyes, frowned and mimicked me:
"O Clau… Clau… Clau…" That shamed me and I managed to remember what I had come to ask. I said with a great effort: "O Sibyl: I have come to question you about Rome's fate and mine."
Gradually her face changed, the prophetic power overcame her, she struggled and gasped, there was a rushing noise through all the galleries, doors banged, wings swished my face, the light vanished, and she uttered a Greek verse in the voice of the God:
Who groans beneath the Punic Curse And strangles in the strings of purse, Before she mends must sicken worse.
Her living mouth shall breed blue flies, And maggots creep about her eyes. No man shall ma