uld smite you to the dust, as well as him, if I chose."

"But you have not asked me about Callista," answered Juba. "It is really a
capital joke, but she has got into prison for certain, for being a
Christian. Fancy it! they caught her in the streets, and put her in the
guard-house, and have had her up for examination. You see they want a
Christian for the nonce: it would not do to have none such in prison; so
they will flourish with her till Decius bolts from the scene."

"The Furies have her!" cried Gurta: "she _is_ a Christian, my boy: I told
you so, long ago!"

"Callista a Christian!" answered Juba, "ha! ha! She and Agellius are going
to make a match of it, of some sort or other. They're thinking of other
things than paradise."

"She and the old priest, more likely, more likely," said Gurta. "He's in
prison with her--in the pit, as I trust."

"Your master has cheated you for once, old woman," said Juba.

Gurta looked at him fiercely, and seemed waiting for his explanation. He
began singing,--

"She wheedled and coaxed, but he was no fool;
He'd be his own master, he'd not be her tool;
Not the little black moor should send him to school.

"She foamed and she cursed--'twas the same thing to him;
She laid well her trap; but he carried his whim;--
The priest scuffled off, safe in life and in limb."

Gurta was almost suffocated with passion. "Cyprianus has not escaped,
boy?" she asked at length.

"I got him off," said Juba, undauntedly.

A shade, as of Erebus, passed over the witch's face; but she remained
quite silent.

"Mother, I am my own master," he continued, "I must break your assumption
of superiority. I'm not a boy, though you call me so. I'll have my own
way. Yes, I saved Cyprianus. You're a bloodthirsty old hag! Yes, _I've_
seen your secret doings. Did not I catch you the other day, practising on
that little child? You had nailed him up by hands and feet against the
tree, and were cutting him to pieces at your leisure, as he quivered and
shrieked the while. You were examining or using his liver for some of your
black purposes. It's not in my line; but you gloated over it; and when he
wailed, you wailed in mimicry. You were panting with pleasure."

Gurta was still silent, and had an expression on her face, awful from the
intensity of its malignity. She had uttered a low piercing whistle.

"Yes!" continued Juba, "you revelled in it. You chattered to the poor babe
when it screamed, as a