The foreigner in black clothes, the man of the religion of Jesus, had lived through these two days and two nights. “One can never tell,” said the soldiers, “what power these foreigners have.” “That is the foreigner’s house,” said the soldiers, “let it alone.” The foreigner had lived through the two days and the two nights, but he had not slept. He had been thinking of the promise of the general. “There will be no looting after I enter the city”—these were the general’s words and the man who had spoken them had not yet entered. As a joke the speech was not bad, but too much blood and no sleep spoils the taste for jokes. The general entered with an important noise of trumpets. Where he rode the looting stopped. He seemed weary, however, and did not ride far. The smoke of the many fires may have hurt his eyes. The day may have been too hot. In any case the general seemed discreetly weary and discreetly blind. The man of the religion of Jesus came to the general. His words were to the point. “Is this the way you keep promises?” he asked. The general did not like directness and he did not care to argue. “There is no looting,” he said, and with a smile he pointed down the street. “There is looting everywhere except before your eyes.” “There is none,” said the general. It was characteristic of him to add, “What there is must be stopped.” “By whom?” asked the foreigner. “Take one hundred men,” said the general, “go up and down in the city. If you see looting or outrage, cut off the guilty man’s head. As for myself, I have seen none.” The foreigner hesitated, but thoughts came to him of the last two days. If he did nothing, who would act? Opportunity seemed to him duty. So in despair and rage he agreed and at the head of his hundred he set out. They came suddenly to a corner where a soldier was searching a dead man’s clothes. Here was guilt so plain no proof was needed. The man was quickly sentenced and in another moment his head was off. “Justice,” said the foreigner to himself, “must upon occasion be swift.” They came upon a house where a widow and her young daughter lived. The house was small and until now it had been overlooked. A noise of scuffling caused the foreigner to look within. The younger woman lay bruised and naked upon the floor, the mother was still struggling with her assailant. Two heads fell and the foreigner smiled. “Payment,” said he to himself, “is a thing dear to the Lord. Here two have paid.”