Constantine, Gorgo and old Eusebius were left together, and the young girl was longing to unburden her over-full heart.  She had agreed to her lover’s request that she would at once accompany him to see his sorrowing parents; still, she could not appear before the old Christian couple and crave their blessing in her present mood.  Recent events had embittered her happy belief in the creed into which she had thrown herself, and much as it pained her to add a drop to Constantine’s cup of sorrow, duty and honesty commanded that she should show him the secrets of her soul and the doubts and questionings which had begun to trouble her.  The old priest’s presence was a comfort to her; for her earnest wish was to become a Christian from conviction; as soon as they were alone she poured out before them all the accusations she had to bring against the adherents of their Faith:  They had triumphed in ruining the creations of Art; the Temple of Isis and the ship-yard lay in ashes, destroyed by Christian incendiaries; their tears were not yet dry when they flowed afresh for the sons of Porphyrius—­Christians themselves—­who, unless some happy accident had saved them, must have perished with thousands of innocent sufferers—­believers and infidels together—­by the orders of the Emperor whom Constantine had always lauded as a wise sovereign and pious Christian, as the Defender of the Faith, and as a faithful disciple of the Redeemer.

When, at last, she came to an end of her indictment she appealed to Constantine and Eusebius to defend the proceedings of their co-religionists, and to give her good grounds for confessing a creed which could sanction such ruthless deeds.

Neither the Deacon nor his pupil attempted to excuse these acts; nay, Constantine thought they were in plain defiance of that high law of Love which the Christian Faith imposes on all its followers.  The wicked servant, he declared, had committed crimes in direct opposition to the spirit and the letter of the Master.

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. . .”