There was no sign of sympathy from the now talkative crowd, wailing for another scene of blood. They treated her with indifference--she was but a very secondary actor in the tragedy. Yet, though they knew her not, she was the greater victor, not that day alone, but in her past daily life of sacrifice. She was greater than he that slays a lion or takes a city! Among the indifferent crowd there was one bright exception. Carnion, though not then a Christian, yet was fulfilling the beautiful words--"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." As Pathema walked away with bowed head and faltering steps, the lad stepped to the edge of the balcony, and waiving his silken handkerchief, called out--"Thy God bless thee!" And the sufferer heard the boy's sweet, strengthening voice, and struggled on. Misunderstood and unregarded by the heartless multitude, yet Pathema's discipline and victory were the work of God, and they, even the greatest of them, were but the willing, guilty instruments. She was being fashioned through suffering in the truest beauty and for the highest honour--the beauty of holiness, which endures for ever. She walked meekly and painfully on, she reached the little door, and then she passed from their guilty presence,--a queen, though uncrowned. CHAPTER XIII. NIGHT. The unconscious officer's wound was hastily but skilfully bound up and the blood stanched, he was raised in a _lectica_ or litter, and carried home with great care to his mansion. In the quietest chamber of the house, he was laid upon a costly bed, one of rare wood with feet of ivory and with purple coverlets curiously broidered with gold. Titanus, having done his utmost, had gone away with Carnion, much cast down, the more so that he was under command by the emperor to leave Rome immediately on foreign service. Coryna was left beside her brother, with the physician and a faithful intelligent slave. The depth of her feelings could not be sounded, yet there was staying power of a kind. Grief, admiration and anxiety surged around a will of rock. Within, a whirling storm: without, a pallid calm. She watched for the first signs of consciousness as the eagle watches for its prey. Tharsos lay as if in death, with the soft light of serenity still on his manly face and classic brow. He moved at last and opened his eyes. "Where is the Christian maiden?" said he in dreamy feebleness, his expression changing into a look of anxiety. Much relieved in tension, Coryna answered softly-- "Some kind one quickly conveyed her away, my brother, but I have sent several of our slaves over the city to find out her lodging-place and to enquire after her health." A radiant joy covered his face, and he remained silent for a little. Then he spoke with quiet earnestness:--