I will not go to him! I will drown--choke--hang myself first!"

She glared around her as though to seek deliverance where none was.
Valerius shook her roughly by the arm.

"Thou'lt come with me and hush thy whining!"

They had reached a lane between the houses, unpaved, trampled hard and
uneven by many feet. This lane was known then as the Street of the Black
Dog; and it ended abruptly at the low stone wall which here marked the
boundary of Saint Peter's land. By the wall, at the head of the street,
was one of the rude stone crosses which were raised at intervals around
the walls and at every gate therein. This was forty or fifty yards ahead
of them as they stood. As Valerius touched the girl she sprang away from
him and fled forward up the street, with head thrown back and torn rags
fluttering and her black hair streaming behind her in a cloud. Valerius
shouted and plunged after her, a hand outstretched with clutching
fingers. And after them went Nicanor, his eyes alight with the lust of
the chase, the fierce joy of the hunting, old as mankind itself. As
Valerius snatched at a rag on the girl's shoulder, he gave a sharp yelp
of triumph, as a hound yells when its leash-mate has nipped the fox. But
the rag tore away as the girl struggled free. She reached the head of
the street, a flying figure of terror, with the black-browed Roman at
her heels and Nicanor racing alongside; staggered, recovered, stumbled
again even as he touched her, and fell forward at the foot of the stone
cross, with a sob like that of a horse ridden to the death, clasping the
column with both hands and crying:

"I claim sanctuary! I claim sanctuary!"

Then her head fell forward on her outflung arms, and she lay with thin
shoulders heaving to her fighting breath, and her face hidden in her
tangled mane. Valerius stopped, almost in his stride, all but
overrunning her, so close upon her had he been. He shook his balled fist
and cursed her, glaring down upon her, not daring to touch so much as a
strand of hair. For she was in the shelter of holy Church; and few men
were bold enough to violate that terrible, wonderful Law of Sanctuary
which even then was beginning to be dreaded and respected, and which
high and low might claim alike. So that Valerius walked in half-circles
about her, like a baffled beast which sees its prey torn from its very
jaws; and she lay and shuddered, and Nicanor stood watching with avid
eyes. For as yet he was only a very pri