“Here ends our toil!” he repeated, in an altered, triumphant, and ferocious tone, “Soldiers sieze this Calabrian! my duty is done!” Sebastian was instantly surrounded by a band of armed men, who drawing their swords at the same moment with a horrid noise, which drew forth a shriek from Kara Aziek, flashed them before him with menacing attitudes. Sebastian stood root-bound in their circle, his eyes fixed with amazement on the perfidious Chrysostom: stunned by so atrocious a perfidy, his faculties were for awhile overpowered: at length bursting into such a tempest of rage as had been long unknown to him, he called out, “Traitor! fear you not that heaven’s bolt will fall and strike you?” “Bridle this madness, impostor or apostate!” (whichever name you affect most) replied the stern friar, “I fear no bolts; I look rather for the mantle of Elisha! Chrysostom might indeed have dreaded divine judgment, had he acted with the inconsistency of his reprobate brethren. Your damnable creed is my abhorrence: whoever you are, for that creed I would burn you at the stake, did I rule in Spain. My stratagem has succeeded; I have secured to myself the gratitude of the whole church; and may every pernicious heretic thus run into the snare of destruction!” “And may every---- but no, I will not curse,” exclaimed Sebastian, interrupting his own fierce transport. “God will avenge.” “Thy ways are hard to understand, O Father all-powerful! teach me to adore and to submit.” His head fell on his breast at the last words, and he remained so awefully wrapt in meditation that he saw not Kara Aziek fall at the feet of Chrysostom, and wildly embrace his knees. Her supplicating voice first awakened him: he recovered himself with a smile almost divine, and tenderly raising her, said calmly, “kneel not there, my beloved! forget not that we are in the hands of God as well as man; if _he_ commands to spare, who shall destroy?” Aziek answered but with low and grievous groans, while she continued to hang upon him; and he, motioning for the soldiers to take him where they would, prepared to follow them. More confounded by this majestic acquiescence, than by the fiercest violence, Chrysostom stood with a troubled look: “Is this hypocrisy! or what is it?” he exclaimed. “It is Christian submission,” returned Sebastian, not deigning to turn his eyes on him. The friar made an effort to resume himself: “Rather say, coward consciousness of base desert! cease to profane the name of our Redeemer, by uniting it with the accursed doctrines you profess: your miserable imposture is over: you also, madam, may queen it no longer, or if you will still appeal to some tribunal, prepare yourselves for answering at the great judgment-seat of Heaven.”