and crept as cleverly and as silently as a snake along the
ground under the darkened base of the centurion's house, and lay close
under Sirona's window.

Her loudly beating heart made it difficult for even her sharp ears to
hear, but though she could not gather all that he said, she distinguished
the sound of his voice; he was no longer in Sirona's room, but in the
room that looked out on the street.

Now she could venture to raise herself, and to look in at the open
window; the door of communication between the two rooms was closed, but a
streak of light showed her that in the farther room, which was the
sitting-room, a lamp was burning.

She had already put up her hand in order to hoist herself up into the
dark room, when a gay laugh from Sirona fell upon her ear. The image of
her enemy rose up before her mind, brilliant and flooded with light as on
that morning, when Hermas had stood just opposite, bewildered by her
fascination. And now--now--he was actually lying at her feet, and saying
sweet flattering words to her, and he would speak to her of love, and
stretch out his arm to clasp her--but she had laughed.

Now she laughed again. Why was all so still again?

Had she offered her rosy lips for a kiss? No doubt, no doubt. And Hermas
did not wrench himself from her white arms, as he had torn himself from
hers that noon by the spring-torn himself away never to return.

Cold drops stood on her brow, she buried her hands in her thick, black
hair, and a loud cry escaped her--a cry like that of a tortured animal. A
few minutes more and she had slipped through the stable and the gate by
which they drove the cattle in; and no longer mistress of herself, was
flying up the mountain to the grotto of Mithras to warn Phoebicius.

The anchorite Gelasius saw from afar the figure of the girl flying up the
mountain in the moonlight, and her shadow flitting from stone to stone,
and he threw himself on the ground, and signed a cross on his brow, for
he thought he saw a goblin-form, one of the myriad gods of the
heathen--an Oread pursued by a Satyr. Sirona had heard the girl's shriek.

"What was that?" she asked the youth, who stood before her in the
full-dress uniform of a Roman officer, as handsome as the young god of
war, though awkward and unsoldierly in his movements.

"An owl screamed--" replied Hermas. "My father must at last tell me from
what house we are descended, and I will go to Byzantium, the new Rome,
and say to