While the centurion hung confounded, dumb With silence that half conscience-smitten seemed, Pondering Paul's words, charged, heavy charged, with blame Involving him too in complicity Of guilt with the whole world for Jesus' death-- A messenger from Felix came once more; This time to Julius with a letter sealed. Julius, unready for intrusion such Upon that moment's privacy of thought, With petulant gesture broke the seal and read These brusque words, which, though writ with other's hand, Were self-shown straight from Felix's own heart; No salutation, and no signature, Ambages none of complaisance or form, Frank unrelieved mock-kingly insolence, Drusilla's phrase, but spirit Felix's: "Does it become a Roman officer Honored with grave responsibility As thou art for the custody and safe Conduct of arrant criminals to Rome, To be consorting with the chief of these In affable familiar intercourse? How thinkest thou? If report were brought to Rome Of such acquittal of the office thine, Would it seem well? Dost thou judge nothing at all Due from thee to the dignity of trust Received from the august imperial hand? Is such thy measure of the faith required In one of Cæsar's deputies? Or thou Perhaps at heart art Christian: ask thyself If thine be a _religio licita_! Apostate from the emperor to Christ Am I to recognize in thee? Judge then What duty will demand from me arrived At Rome, me who am loyal still to him, Nero Augustus Cæsar named with gods!" These things read Julius with a knitted brow That discomposure with resentment showed; Then mastering himself to courtesy Wherein some air of condescension played, He made his peace by gesture without word, And slowly, like one doubting, went away. With nothing said or signed to set in light The meaning of the message thus conveyed, Paul from the person of the messenger, Well-known a slave of Felix's, divined The meaning mischievous, but kept his thought And only said: "With the centurion now Our guest no longer, and the day so far Declined from its meridian, meet perhaps It were to let our interrupted tale From Mary--thanks to whom once more we owe-- Rest till to-morrow, if to-morrow be Ours, and the weather then still smile as now: God will still smile, through weather fair or foul. And now to God our Father blessing be, From whom all blessing is, and to His Son, And to the Holy Ghost. Amen!" "Amen!" They echoed all, with not even Krishna mute; Then silently and solemnly withdrew. BOOK XV. YOUNG STEPHEN AND FELIX.