Gisippus stood for some time in suspense by the bed side of Titus, divided between the claims of love and the claims of friendship.  But at last he resolved to save his friend’s life at the cost of his own happiness.  Some days afterwards, Sophronia was brought to his house for the bridal ceremony to be consummated.  Going softly into the bridal chamber where the bride was lying, he put out the candles, and then went silently to Titus, and told him that he might be the bridegroom.  Titus was so overcome with shame that he refused to go; but Gisippus so passionately entreated him, that at last he consented.  Going into the dark bridal chamber, he softly asked Sophronia if she would be his wife.  She, thinking it was Gisippus, replied, “Yes.”  Then, taking a ring of value, and putting it upon her finger, Titus said:  “And I will be your husband.”

In the morning, Sophronia discovered the trick that had been put upon her.  Stealing out of the house, she went to her father and mother, and told them that Gisippus had deceived her, and married her to Titus.  Great was the resentment against Gisippus throughout Athens, for Sophronia came of a very ancient and noble family.

But seeing that what had been done could not be undone, the parents of the bride at last allowed Titus to lead her to Rome, where the scandal would not be known.  But when Titus was gone, they resolved to take vengeance upon Gisippus.  A powerful party was formed against him, who succeeded in getting him stripped of all his possessions, driven from Athens, and condemned to perpetual exile.

Friendless and beggared, Gisippus slowly travelled on foot to Rome, intending to ask Titus to help him.  He found that his friend was now a rich and powerful man, enjoying the favour of the young Prince Octavius, and living in a splendid palace.  Gisippus did not dare to enter it, as his clothes were now worn to rags, so he stood humbly by the gate like a beggar, hoping that his friend would recognise him and speak to him.  But Titus came out in a hurry, and never even stopped to look at him; and Gisippus, thinking that he was now despised, went away confounded with grief and despair.

Wandering at random about the streets, he came at nightfall to a cavern where thieves were wont to gather, and laid down on the hard ground and wept himself to sleep.  While he was sleeping, two thieves entered with their booty and began to quarrel about it, whereupon one killed the other and fled.  In the morning some watchmen found Gisippus sleeping beside the dead body, and arrested him.

“Yes, I killed him,” said Gisippus, who was now resolved to die, and thought that this would be a better way than taking his own life.  Thereupon, the judge sentenced him to be crucified, which was the usual manner of death in these cases.  By a strange chance, however, Titus came into the hall to defend a poor client.  He instantly recognised Gisippus, and, wondering greatly at the sad change of his fortune, he determined at all costs to save him.  But the case had gone so far that there was only one way of doing this.  And Titus took it.  Stepping resolutely up to the judge, he greatly astonished everyone by exclaiming: