alt have her, only patience."

"No! no patience. A sword-thrust will make the milk-sop of a husband
cold; in these arms will I lift the struggling one on Pluto, my black
horse, and quick to the Capitol, even if all the market-women of
Juvavum raise an outcry behind me."

"Murder and rape! Thou knowest the punishment."

"Bah! Would an accuser come forward? And the Emperor? The Emperor of
_Juvavum_--is myself. Let us see who will climb the walls of my
Capitolium."

"The Cross, my roaring Leo, the Cross and the Presbyter. No, no, it
must not be an open sin crying to heaven. True, the Judge and his
lictors are weak in this land, which is almost given up by Rome. But
the Church is so much the stronger. If the haggard, white-bearded
Johannes thrust thee out, thou art a lost man. No pound of meat, no cup
of wine, will the people of Juvavum again sell to thee."

"I will take what I need with my lancers."

"But thy lancers are Mauritanians: pious Christians, baptised by the
Presbyter. See if they will follow, if the old man have cursed thee."

"I will strike him dead after, or rather, before the curse," cried the
officer, and he made a quick step forwards; his long dark-red mantle
floated in the wind.

But the money-changer again stopped, adjusting with his bony fingers
his yellow tunic.

"How useless! Dost thou not know that _they_ are immortal? If thou
strikest _one_ dead, the Bishop sends another. And they are all
alike--much more than thy soldiers resemble each other. And I--I would
not look at thee across the street if thou wert thrust out from the
Holy Church."

But now the soldier stopped and laughed aloud: "Thou! Zeno of
Byzantium! Thou believest as little in the Holy Church as Leo himself.
And it is my opinion, that thy soul-destroying usury is not regarded
more favourably by the saints, than my trifle of pleasure in love and
murder. What hast thou to do with the Church?"

"I will tell thee, thou rash son of Mars. I _fear_ her! She is the only
power now left in these lands. The Emperor is far away, his officers
are all venal; the barbarians are like the storm, they bluster around
us, we bend to them, and they again bluster away; but the Church is
everywhere, even if only a single priest says mass in a half-ruined
house of prayer. And the priest is not to be bought. The miserable
creature dares not live like a man, so he needs nothing; and all who
hope for heaven follow him, that is to say: all fools. But w