Brave and discreet the boy had need to be; For, as he went, amid the rear-guard dense Of darkness undispersed before the dawn, Steering his flying steps along the street, And watching wary, with tense eye and ear, To every quarter of the dim dumb world-- A sudden thwarting ray that disappeared! He paused on tiptoe, leaning forward, stood One instant, with his hand behind his ear, To listen, while his noisy heart he hushed; And heard, yea, footsteps, with a muffled sound Of human voices sibilant and hoarse. What meant it? Nothing, doubtless, yet well were To be unseen, and see--if see he might-- And hear unheard, until his way were sure. With supple swift insinuation, he Slipped him beneath the slack ungathered length Of a chance-left rolled tent-cloth at his feet. Two men--one bore a lantern, darkened deep Behind the outer garment that he wore-- Drew nigh, and Stephen held his breath to hear The name of Saul hissed out between the twain. Slow was their gait, and ever and anon, Halting, they checked their words, and seemed to list, As if for comrades lingering yet behind. They against Stephen halted thus, and he Lay breathlessly awaiting what might fall. First having paused, as hearkening from afar-- To naught but silence--the two men sat down Upon that roll of tent-cloth, thus at ease To rest them, till the waited-for appeared. At Stephen's very ear, he in duress And forced to hear them, there those two ill men, Complotters in the plot to murder Paul, Unfolded in free converse all their scheme. Fiercely the listening boy forbade to cry The aching heart of eagerness in him, That almost rived with its desire of vent. Fear for himself could not have held him mute; Horror and hatred of that wickedness Swelled swiftly in his breast, so huge and hard, There must have sprung from out his lips a cry, Sharp like an arrow cleaving from its string, Had not great love been instant, stronger yet, Binding his heart to burst not, and be dumb. So there he lay as dead, so deathlike still, Until at length--the waited-for come up-- They all went forward thence their purposed way. Then Stephen lithely to his feet upsprung And, sped as with his anguish, his disdain, His indignation, to be silent--force Pent up in him from all escape but speed-- Swift, like the roe upon the mountains, ran To find Gamaliel, where that ancient sage Sat on his dewy roof expecting morn.