Euryale was right, and Fate, to which she had appealed, had decided well for her.  That, the greatest conceivable sacrifice, would have been in vain; for the sake of a ruthless tyrant’s foul desire she would have been guilty of the basest breach of faith, have poisoned her lover’s heart and soul, and have wrecked his whole future life as well as her own.  Away, then, with foolish doubts!  Pythagoras was wise in warning her against torturing her heart.  The die was cast.  She and Caracalla must go on divergent roads, Her duty now was to fight for her own happiness against any who threatened it, and, above all, against the tyrant who had compelled her, innocent as she was, to hide like a criminal.

She was full of righteous wrath against the sanguinary persecutor, and holding her head high she went back into her sleeping-room to finish dressing.  She moved more quickly than usual, for the bookrolls which Euryale had laid by her bed while she was still asleep attracted her eye with a suggestion of promise.  Eager to know what their contents were, she took them up, drew a stool to the window, and tried to read.

But many voices came up to her from outside, and when she looked down into the road she saw troops of youths crowding into the stadium.  What fine fellows they were, as they marched on, talking and singing; and she said to herself that Diodoros and Alexander were taller even than most of these, and would have been handsome among the handsomest!  She amused herself for some time with watching them; but when the last man had entered the stadium, and they had formed in companies, she again took up the rolls.

One contained the gospel of Matthew and the other that of Luke.

The first, beginning with the genealogy, gave her a string of strange, barbarous names which did not attract her; so she took up the roll of Luke, and his simple narrative style at once charmed her.  There were difficulties in it, no doubt, and she skipped sundry unintelligible passages, but the second chapter captivated her attention.  It spoke of the birth of the great Teacher whom the Christians worshiped as their God.  Angels had announced to the shepherds in the field that great joy should come on the whole world, because the Saviour was born; and this Saviour and Redeemer was no hero, no sage, but a child wrapped in swaddling-clothes and lying in a manger.

At this she smiled, for she loved little children, and had long known no greater pleasure than to play with them and help them.  How many delightful hours did she owe to the grandchildren of their neighbor Skopas!

And this child, hailed at its birth by a choir of angels, had become a God in whom many believed! and the words of the angels’ chant were:  “Glory to God on high, and on earth peace, good-will toward men!”

How great and good it sounded!  With eager excitement she fastened the rolls together, and on her features was depicted impatient longing to put an end to an intolerable state of things, as she exclaimed, though there was no one but herself to hear:  “Ay, peace, salvation, good-will!  Not this hatred, this thirst for revenge, this blood, this persecution, and, as their hideous fruit, this terror, these horrible, cruel fears—­”