"Princess Hilda, my girl's patroness--she often sends for the child to come to her at the Capitol and pays liberally for her embroideries--Princess Hilda herself speaks in his behalf. But I hesitate; I will not force her on any account." "Well, what does she say?" "Oh, the Barbarian is as handsome as a picture. I almost believe--I fear--she likes him. But something holds her back. Who can read a girl's heart? Look, the leaders of the horsemen are dismounting--Gelimer too--in front of the basilica." "Strange. He is the hero,--the square echoes with his name,--and he looks so grave, so sad." "Yes, there again! But did you see how kindly his eyes shone as he soothed the frightened child?" "Certainly I did. And now--" "Yes, there it is; a black cloud suddenly seems to fall upon him. There are all sorts of rumors about it among the people. Some say he has a demon; others that he is often out of his mind. Our priests whisper that it is pangs of conscience for secret crimes. But I will never believe that of Gelimer." "Was he always so?" "It has grown worse within a few years. Satanas--Saint Cyprian protect us--is said to have appeared to him in the solitude of the desert. Since that time he has been even more devout than before. See, his most intimate friend is greeting him at the basilica." "Yonder priest? He is an Arian; I know it by the oblong, narrow tonsure." "Yes," replied the Carthaginian, wrathfully, "it is Verus, the archdeacon! Curses on the traitor!" He clinched his fists. "Traitor! Why?" "Well--renegade. He descends from an ancient Roman senatorial family which has given the Church many a bishop. His great-uncle was Bishop Laetus of Nepte, who died a martyr. But his father, his mother, and seven brothers and sisters died under a former king amid the most cruel tortures, rather than abjure their holy Catholic religion. This man, too,--he was then a youth of twenty,--was tortured until he fell as if dead. When he recovered consciousness, he abjured his faith and became an Arian, a priest,--the wretch!--to buy his life. Soon--for Satan has bestowed great intellectual gifts upon him--he rose from step to step, became the favorite of the Asdings, of the court, suddenly even the friend of the noble Gelimer, who had long kept him coldly and contemptuously at a distance. And the court gave him this basilica, our highest sanctuary, dedicated to the great Cyprian, which, like almost all the churches in Carthage, the heretics have wrested from us." "But look--what is the hero doing? He is kneeling on the upper step of the church. Now he is taking off his helmet." "He is scattering the dust of the marble stairs upon his head." "What is he kissing? The priest's hand?" "No, the case containing the ashes of the great saint. He is very devout and very humble. Or shall I say he humiliates himself? He shuts himself up for days with the monks to do penance by scourging." "A strange hero of Barbarian blood!"