Eusebius had, till now, listened in silence; but as she ended he went towards her, and asked her gently whether she would think it right to turn the fertilizing Nile from its bed and leave its shores dry, because, from time to time, it destroyed fields and villages in the excess of its overflow? “This day and its deeds of shame,” he went on sadly, “are a blot on the pure and sublime book of the History of our Faith, and every true Christian must bitterly bewail the excesses of a frenzied mob. The Church must no less condemn Caesar’s sanguinary vengeance; it casts a shade on his honor and his fair name, and his conscience no doubt will punish him for such a crime. Far be it from me to defend deeds which nothing can justify...” But Gorgo interrupted him. “All this,” she said, “does not alter the fact that such crimes are just as possible and as frequent with you, as with those whom I am expected to give up, and who...” “But it is not merely on account of their ill deeds that you are giving them up, Gorgo,” Constantine broke in. “Confess, dear girl, that your wrath makes you unjust to yourself and your own heart. It was not out of aversion for the ruthless and base adherents of the old gods but--as I hope and believe--out of love for me that you consented to adopt my faith--our faith.” “True, true,” she exclaimed, coloring as she remembered the doubts Dada had cast on the truth of her love. “True, out of love for you--love of Love and of peace, I consented to become a Christian. But with regard to the deeds committed by your followers, tell me yourself--and I appeal to you reverend Father--what inspired them: Love or Hate.” “Hate!” said Constantine gloomily; and Eusebius added sorrowfully