people proclaim thee the Caesar and have released
thee of thine oath."

"The voice of God," he said slowly, "spoke to me across the sandy wastes
of Galilee and said unto me: 'Render unto Caesar the things that are
Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's.'"

His softly murmured words died away in the vastness around him. Dea
Flavia made no response; a terrible ache was in her heart as if a cold,
dead hand gripped its every string, whilst mocking laughter sounded in
her ear.

That cruel monster Finality grinned at her from across the room. Love
was lying bleeding and fettered at the feet of some intangible,
superhuman spectre which Dea Flavia dreaded because it was the Unknown.

Taurus Antinor's eyes were fixed into vacancy, and she trembled because
she could not see that which he saw. Was he looking on that very vision
which he had conjured up, a cross, broken and tempest-tossed, a symbol
of that power which to him was mightier than the Empire of Rome,
mightier than the kingdom of her love?

She remembered how, a few days ago, in this self-same room she had in
thought accosted and defied that Galilean rebel who had died the
ignominious death; she had defied him, even she, Dea Flavia Augusta of
the imperial House of Caesar. She had offered him battle for this very
man whose soul she now would fill with her own.

She had defied the Galilean, vowed that she would conquer this heart and
filch it from the allegiance it had sworn, vowed that she would make it
Caesar's first and then her own, that she would break it and crush it
first and then wrest it from its unknown God.

And now it seemed as if that obscure Galilean rebel had conquered in the
end. She had brought forth the whole armoury of her love, her beauty,
her nearness, the ardour of youth and passion which emanated from her
entire being, and the intangible Unknown had remained the victor, and
she was left with that awful ache in her heart which was more bitter
than death.

"Have I thy leave to go, Augusta?" he asked gently at last, "the
moments are precious. The Caesar hath need of me...."

She woke as from a hideous dream. With a wild gesture of the arms she
seemed to sweep away from before her those awful spectres that assailed
her. Then she clung to him with the strength of oncoming despair.

"No--no," she cried, "do not go ... he will kill thee, I say ... do not
go...."

"I must," he said firmly. "Dear heart, I entreat thee let me go."

"No