“You have stolen it yourself! You have stolen it yourself! Answer, answer! I will loosen your tongue with the whip, miserable little bitch!” Then a terrible thing happened. Beside herself with fear, the fear of suffering, the fear of death, the most instant terror she had ever known, the child exclaimed hurriedly: “It is Aphrodisia! It is not I! it is not I!” “Your sister!” “Yes, yes,” said the mulatto woman; “it is Aphrodisia who has taken it.” And they dragged their sister, who had just fallen into a fainting fit, before Bacchis. [1] Philodème AP. V. 132. V THE CRUCIFIED ONE They all repeated together: “It is Aphrodisia who has taken it! Bitch! Bitch! Filthy thief!” Their hatred of the favourite sister was reinforced by their fear for themselves. Aretias gave her a kick in the breast. “Where is it?” asked Bacchis. “Where have you put it?” “She has given it to her lover.” “Who is he?” “An Opian sailor.” “Where is his ship?” “It sailed this evening for Rome. You will never see your mirror again. Let us crucify the bitch, the bloody animal!” “Ah! Gods! Gods!” sobbed Bacchis. Then suddenly her sorrow changed into a frenzy of rage. ill-056 _Bacchis seized her by the hair._ Aphrodisia had come to herself again; but, paralysed by terror, and unable to understand what was happening, she remained speechless and tearless. Bacchis seized her by the hair, dragged her over the soiled floor, through the flowers and pools of wine, and cried: “The cross! the cross! bring the nails! bring the hammer!” “Oh!” said Seso to her neighbour; “I have never seen that. Let us follow them.” All pressed forward to follow. And Chrysis, who alone knew the guilty one, and was alone the cause of everything, Chrysis followed too. Bacchis went straight into the slaves’ chamber, a square apartment furnished with three mattresses on which they slept in couples when the nights were over. At the lower end, like an ever-present menace, stood a T-shaped cross which had never yet been used. In the midst of the confused murmur of the young men and women, four slaves hoisted the martyr to the level of the branches of the cross. Not a sound had yet left her lips; but when she felt the touch of the cold rough beam on her naked back, her long eyes dilated, and she was seized with a convulsive fit of groaning which lasted till the end. They put her astride on a wooden peg driven into the centre of the upright. This served to support the body and obviate the tearing of the hands. Then they opened out her arms.