No.  To the very last she would trust and hope.  And wonderful to say!  Each time she had reached the very limits of her powers of endurance, feeling she could certainly bear no more and must succumb, something came to her to revive her faith or her courage:  a message would be brought her from Orion, or Dame Joanna or Pulcheria came to see her; the bishop sought an interview, or her father’s mind rallied and he could speak to her in beautiful and stimulating words.  Often the warder would announce the senator and his wife, and their vigorous and healthy minds always hit on the very thing she needed.  Martina, particularly, with her subtle motherly instinct, always understood whatever was agitating her; and once she showed her a letter from Heliodora, in which she spoke of the calmness she had won through nursing their dear invalid, and said how thankful she was to see the reward of her care and toil.  Narses was already quite another man, and she could know no higher task than that of reconciling the hapless man to life, nay, of making it dear to him again.  She no longer thought of Orion but as she might of a beautiful song she once had heard in a delightful hour.

Thus time passed, even for the imprisoned maiden, till only two nights remained before St. Serapis’ day when the fearful marriage was to be solemnized.

It was evening when the bishop came to visit Paula.  He regarded it as his duty to tell her that the execution of her sentence was fixed for the day after to-morrow.  He should hope and believe till the last, but his own power over the misguided mob was gone from him.  In any case, and if the worst should befall, he would be at her side to protect her by the dignity of his office.  He had come now, so as to give her time to prepare her self in every respect.  The care of her noble father till his last hour on earth he would take upon himself as a dear and sacred duty.

Though she had believed herself surely prepared long since for the worst, this news fell on her like a thunderbolt.  What lay before her seemed so monstrous, so unexampled, that it was impossible that she ever could look forward to it firmly and calmly.

For a long time she could not help clinging desperately to her faithful Betta, and it was only by degrees that she so far recovered herself as to be able to speak to the bishop, and thank him.  He, however, could only lament his inability to earn her fullest gratitude, for the patriarch’s reply to his complaint of those who promised rescue to the people by the instrumentality of a heathen abomination—­a document on which he had founded his highest hopes for her—­had had a different result from that which he had expected.  The patriarch, to be sure, condemned the abominable sacrifice, but he did it in a way which lacked the force necessary to terrify and discourage the misled mob.  However, he would try what effect it might have on the people, and a number of scribes were at work to make copies of it in the course of the night.  These would be sent to the Senators next morning, posted up in the market-place and public buildings, and distributed to the people; but he feared all this would have no effect.