But this admission by no means satisfied Gorgo; she represented to the young Christian that a master must be judged by the deeds of his servant; she herself had turned from the old gods only because she felt such intense contempt for their worshippers; but now it had been her lot to see—­the Deacon must pardon her for saying so—­that many a Christian far outdid the infidels in coarse brutality and cruelty.  Such an experience had filled her with distrust of the creed she was required to subscribe to—­she was shaken to the very foundations of her being.

Eusebius had, till now, listened in silence; but as she ended he went towards her, and asked her gently whether she would think it right to turn the fertilizing Nile from its bed and leave its shores dry, because, from time to time, it destroyed fields and villages in the excess of its overflow?  “This day and its deeds of shame,” he went on sadly, “are a blot on the pure and sublime book of the History of our Faith, and every true Christian must bitterly bewail the excesses of a frenzied mob.  The Church must no less condemn Caesar’s sanguinary vengeance; it casts a shade on his honor and his fair name, and his conscience no doubt will punish him for such a crime.  Far be it from me to defend deeds which nothing can justify. . .”

But Gorgo interrupted him.  “All this,” she said, “does not alter the fact that such crimes are just as possible and as frequent with you, as with those whom I am expected to give up, and who. . .”

“But it is not merely on account of their ill deeds that you are giving them up, Gorgo,” Constantine broke in.  “Confess, dear girl, that your wrath makes you unjust to yourself and your own heart.  It was not out of aversion for the ruthless and base adherents of the old gods but—­as I hope and believe—­out of love for me that you consented to adopt my faith—­our faith.”

“True, true,” she exclaimed, coloring as she remembered the doubts Dada had cast on the truth of her love.

“True, out of love for you—­love of Love and of peace, I consented to become a Christian.  But with regard to the deeds committed by your followers, tell me yourself—­and I appeal to you reverend Father—­what inspired them:  Love or Hate.”

“Hate!” said Constantine gloomily; and Eusebius added sorrowfully

“In these dark days our Faith is seen under an aspect that by no means fairly represents its true nature, noble lady; trust my words!  Have you not yourself seen, even in your short life, that what is highest and greatest can in its excess, be all that is most hideous?  A noble pride, if not kept within bounds, becomes overweening ambition; the lovely grace of humility degenerates into an indolent sacrifice of opinion and will; high-hearted enterprise into a mad chase after fortune, in which we ride down everything that comes in the way of success.  What is nobler than a mother’s love, but when she fights for her child she becomes a raving Megaera.