“Well!” asked the captain, “will you come?  Yes or no?”

Selene struggled for self-possession, and when the soldier held out his hand to her she said with a trembling voice: 

“We honor the Emperor but we pray to no statue—­only to our Father in Heaven.”

“There you have it!” laughed the beggar.

“Once more I ask you,” cried the tribune.  “Will you worship this statue, or do you refuse to do so?”

A fearful struggle possessed Selene’s soul.  If she resisted the Roman her life was in danger, and the fury of the populace would be aroused against her fellow-believers—­if, on the other hand, she obeyed him, she would be blaspheming God, breaking her faith to the Saviour who loved her, sinning against the truth and her own conscience.  A fearful dread fell upon her, and deprived her of the power to lift her soul in prayer.  She could not, she dared not, do what was required of her, and yet the overweening love of life which exists in every mortal led her feet to the base of the idol and there stayed her steps.

“Lift up your hands and worship the divine Caesar,” cried the tribune, who with the rest of the lookers-on had watched her movements with keen excitement.

Trembling, she set her basket on the ground and tried to withdraw her hand from her brother’s; but the blind boy held it fast.  He fully understood what was required of his sister, he knew full well, from the history of many martyrs that had been told him, what fate awaited her and him if they resisted the Roman’s demand; but he felt no fear and whispered to her: 

“We will not obey his desires Martha; we will not pray to idols, we will cling faithfully to the Redeemer.  Turn me away from the image, and I will say ‘Our Father.’”

With a loud voice and his lustreless eyes upraised to Heaven, the boy said the Lord’s prayer.  Selene had first set his face towards the river, and then she herself turned her back on the statue; then, lifting her hands, she followed the child’s example.

Helios clung to her closely, her loudly uttered prayer was one with his, and neither of them saw or heard anything more of what befell them.

The blind boy had a vision of a distant but glorious light, the maiden of a blissful life made beautiful by love, as she was flung to the ground in front of the statue of Hadrian, and the excited mob rushed upon her and her faithful little brother.  The military tribune tried in vain to hold back the populace, and by the time the soldiers had succeeded in driving the excited mob away from their victims, both the young hearts, in the midst of the triumph of their faith, in the midst of their hopes of an eternal and blissful life, had ceased to beat for ever.

The occurrence disturbed the captain and made him very uneasy.  This girl, this beautiful boy, who lay before him pale corpses, had been worthy of a better fate, and he might be made to answer for them; for the law forbade that any Christian should be punished for his faith without a judge’s sentence.  He therefore commanded that the dead should be carried at once to the house to which they belonged, and threatened every one, who should that day set foot in the Christian quarter, with the severest punishment.