cromancer resorted to his art with as little effect. The king then
ordered a general Christian massacre. His savage wrath hugged itself on
the reflection, that the criminal would be sure to perish, perish else
who might.

The Christians heard the order with an astonishment that took away all
their powers of resistance. The suddenness of the presence of death
stupified them. They did not resort even to an entreaty. They waited,
like sheep, to be butchered. Little did they think what kind of saviour
was at hand.

There was a maiden among them of ripe years, grave and beautiful; one who
took no heed of her beauty, but was altogether absorbed in high and holy
thoughts. If she thought of her beauty ever, it was only to subject it to
the dignity of virtue. The greater her worth, the more she concealed it
from the world, living a close life at home, and veiling herself from all
eyes.

But the rays of such a jewel could not but break through their casket.
Love would not consent to have it so locked up. Love turned her very
retirement into attraction. There was a youth who had become enamoured
of this hidden treasure. His name was Olindo; Sophronia was that of the
maiden. Olindo, like herself, was a Christian; and the humbleness of his
passion was equal to the worth of her that inspired it. He desired much,
hoped little, asked nothing.[1] He either knew not how to disclose his
love, or did not dare it. And she either despised it, or did not, or
would not, see it. The poor youth, up to this day, had got nothing by his
devotion, not even a look.

The maiden, who was nevertheless as generous as she was virtuous, fell
into deep thought how she might save her Christian brethren. She soon
came to her resolve. She delayed the execution of it a little, only out
of a sense of virgin decorum, which, in its turn, made her still more
resolute. She issued forth by herself, in the sight of all, not muffling
up her beauty, nor yet exposing it. She withdrew her eyes beneath a veil,
and, attired neither with ostentation nor carelessness, passed through
the streets with unaffected simplicity, admired by all save herself. She
went straight before the king. His angry aspect did not repel her. She
drew aside the veil, and looked him steadily in the face.

"I am come," she said, "to beg that you will suspend your wrath, and
withhold the orders given to your people. I know and will give up the
author of the deed which has offended you, on that co