‘I speak from the inspiration of the True God, whose servant I now am,’ answered the Christian, boldly; ’and in the knowledge that by His grace human courage has already fixed the date of thy hypocrisy and thy demon’s worship; ere thrice the sun has dawned, thou wilt know all!  Dark sorcerer, tremble, and farewell!’

All the fierce and lurid passions which he inherited from his nation and his clime, at all times but ill concealed beneath the blandness of craft and the coldness of philosophy, were released in the breast of the Egyptian.  Rapidly one thought chased another; he saw before him an obstinate barrier to even a lawful alliance with Ione—­the fellow-champion of Glaucus in the struggle which had baffled his designs—­the reviler of his name—­the threatened desecrator of the goddess he served while he disbelieved—­the avowed and approaching revealer of his own impostures and vices.  His love, his repute, nay, his very life, might be in danger—­the day and hour seemed even to have been fixed for some design against him.  He knew by the words of the convert that Apaecides had adopted the Christian faith:  he knew the indomitable zeal which led on the proselytes of that creed.  Such was his enemy; he grasped his stilus—­that enemy was in his power!  They were now before the chapel; one hasty glance once more he cast around; he saw none near—­silence and solitude alike tempted him.

‘Die, then, in thy rashness!’ he muttered; ’away, obstacle to my rushing fates!’

And just as the young Christian had turned to depart, Arbaces raised his hand high over the left shoulder of Apaecides, and plunged his sharp weapon twice into his breast.

Apaecides fell to the ground pierced to the heart—­he fell mute, without even a groan, at the very base of the sacred chapel.

Arbaces gazed upon him for a moment with the fierce animal joy of conquest over a foe.  But presently the full sense of the danger to which he was exposed flashed upon him; he wiped his weapon carefully in the long grass, and with the very garments of his victim; drew his cloak round him, and was about to depart, when he saw, coming up the path, right before him, the figure of a young man, whose steps reeled and vacillated strangely as he advanced:  the quiet moonlight streamed full upon his face, which seemed, by the whitening ray, colorless as marble.  The Egyptian recognized the face and form of Glaucus.  The unfortunate and benighted Greek was chanting a disconnected and mad song, composed from snatches of hymns and sacred odes, all jarringly woven together.

‘Ha!’ thought the Egyptian, instantaneously divining his state and its terrible cause; ’so, then, the hell-draught works, and destiny hath sent thee hither to crush two of my foes at once!’