Odo listened in silence, leaning on his axe. Then he turned his
face to the bystanders, and demanded of them--

"Which of them is the bolder? Which of them flinched at my axe?"

The spectators were unanimous that neither had blenched. The
slender lad had presented himself as resolutely as the stately
warrior.

"It is well," said Odo. "Either way my son will be worthily
avenged. I leave the choice to you, young men."

A brief debate ended in an appeal to the Senator, who, in spite of
all his fortitude, could not restrain himself from groaning aloud,
hiding his face in his hands, and hoarsely saying, "Draw lots."

"Yes," said Euric; "commit the judgment to Heaven."

It was hailed as a relief; but Lucius stipulated that the lots
should be blessed by a Catholic priest, and Verronax muttered
impatiently--

"What matters it? Let us make an end as quickly as may be!"

He had scarcely spoken when shouts were heard, the throng made way,
the circle of lites opened, as, waving an olive branch, a wearied,
exhausted rider and horse appeared, and staggering to the foot of
the throne, there went down entirely spent, the words being just
audible, "He lives! Odorik lives!"