“Least of all Domitian, daughter, that son of Satan, whom Satan shall pay in his own coin.”

Then going to the door he summoned Julia, and while Gallus watched without, the two of them prayed long and earnestly with Miriam.  When their prayer was finished the bishop rose, blessed her, and bade her farewell.

“I leave you, daughter,” he said, “but though you see him not, another takes my place.  Do you believe?”

“I have said that I believe,” murmured Miriam.

Indeed, in those days when men still lived who had seen the Christ and His voice still echoed through the world, to the strong faith of His followers, it was not hard to credit that His angel did descend to earth to protect and save at their Master’s bidding.

So Cyril, the bishop, went, and that night from many a catacomb prayers rose up to Heaven for Miriam in her peril.  That night also she slept peacefully.

Two hours before the dawn, Julia awoke her and arrayed her in the glittering, hateful garments.  When all was ready, with tears she bade her farewell.

“Child, child,” she said, “you have become to me as my own daughter was, and now I know not how and when we shall meet again.”

“Perhaps sooner than you think,” Miriam answered.  “But if not, if, indeed, I speak to you for the last time, why, then, my blessings on you who have played a mother’s part to a helpless maid that was no kin of yours.  Yes, and on you Gallus also, who have kept me safe through so many dangers.”

“And who hopes, dear one, to keep you safe through many more.  Since I may not swear by the gods before you, I swear it by the Eagles that Domitian will do well to have a care how he deals by you.  To him I owe no fealty and, as has been proved before to-day, the sword of vengeance can reach the heart of princes.”

“Aye, Gallus,” said Miriam gently, “but let it not be your sword, nor, I trust, shall you need to think of vengeance.”

Then the litter was brought into the courtyard, with the guards that were sent to accompany it, and they started for the gathering-place beyond the Triumphal Way.  Dark though it still was, all Rome was astir.  On every side shone torches, from every house and street rose the murmur of voices, for the mighty city made herself ready to celebrate the greatest festival which her inhabitants had seen.  Even now at times the press was so dense that the soldiers were obliged to force a way through the crowd, which poured outwards to find good places along the line of the Triumph, or to take up their station on stands of timber, and in houses they had hired, whose roofs, balconies and windows commanded the path of the pageant.

They crossed the Tiber.  This Miriam knew by the roar of the water beneath, and because the crush upon the narrow bridge was so great.  Thence she was borne along through country comparatively open, to the gateways of some large building, where she was ordered to dismount from the litter.  Here officers were waiting who took charge of her, giving to Gallus a written receipt for her person.  Then, either because he would not trust himself to bid her farewell, or because he did not think it wise to do so in the presence of the officers, Gallus turned and left her without a word.