down after a while, too, and both began to pray in Cæsar's house at the
morning dawn.

Acte witnessed such a prayer for the first time, and could not take her
eyes from Lygia, who, seen by her in profile, with raised hands, and
face turned heavenward, seemed to implore rescue. The dawn, casting
light on her dark hair and white peplus, was reflected in her eyes.
Entirely in the light, she seemed herself like light. In that pale
face, in those parted lips, in those raised hands and eyes, a kind of
superhuman exaltation was evident. Acte understood then why Lygia could
not become the concubine of any man. Before the face of Nero's former
favorite was drawn aside, as it were, a corner of that veil which hides
a world altogether different from that to which she was accustomed. She
was astonished by prayer in that abode of crime and infamy. A moment
earlier it had seemed to her that there was no rescue for Lygia; now she
began to think that something uncommon would happen, that some aid would
come,--aid so mighty that Cæsar himself would be powerless to resist
it; that some winged army would descend from the sky to help that
maiden, or that the sun would spread its rays beneath her feet and draw
her up to itself. She had heard of many miracles among Christians, and
she thought now that everything said of them was true, since Lygia was
praying.

Lygia rose at last, with a face serene with hope. Ursus rose too, and,
holding to the bench, looked at his mistress, waiting for her words.

But it grew dark in her eyes, and after a time two great tears rolled
down her checks slowly.

"May God bless Pomponia and Aulus," said she. "It is not permitted me