“Hold, hold, Corvinus, I have told you that was long forgotten. But hear me now. Every one but the blind around you is a witness to this outrage. There will be a hundred evidences to prove it. If ever, then, you speak of this assembly, still more if you attempt to molest any one for it, we shall have it in our power to bring you to trial at your own father’s judgment-seat. Do you understand me, Corvinus?” “I do, indeed,” replied the captive in a whining tone. “Never, as long as I live, will I breathe to mortal soul that I came into this dreadful place. I swear it by the--” “Hush, hush! we want no such oaths here. Take my arm, and walk with me.” Then turning to the others, he continued: “I know this person; his coming here is quite a mistake.” The spectators, who had taken the wretch’s supplicating gestures and tone for accompaniments to a tale of woe, and strong application for relief, joined in crying out, “Pancratius, you will not send him away fasting and unsuccored?” “Leave that to me,” was the reply. The self-appointed porters gave way before Pancratius, who led Corvinus, still pretending to limp, into the street, and dismissed him, saying: “Corvinus, we are now quits; only, take care of your promise.” Fulvius, as we have seen, went to try his fortune by the front door. He found it, according to Roman custom, unlocked; and, indeed, no one could have suspected the possibility of a stranger entering at such an hour. Instead of a porter, he found, guarding the door, only a simple-looking girl about twelve or thirteen years of age, clad in a peasant’s garment. No one else was near; and he thought it an excellent opportunity to verify the strong suspicion which had crossed his mind. Accordingly, he thus addressed the little portress: “What is your name, child, and who are you?” “I am,” she replied, “Emerentiana, the Lady Agnes’s foster-sister.” “Are you a Christian?” he asked her sharply. The poor little peasant opened her eyes in the amazement of ignorance, and replied: “No, sir.” It was impossible to resist the evidence of her simplicity; and Fulvius was satisfied that he was mistaken. The fact was, that she was the daughter of a peasant who had been Agnes’s nurse. The mother had just died, and her kind sister had sent for the orphan daughter, intending to have her instructed and baptized. She had only arrived a day or two before, and was yet totally ignorant of Christianity.