Here he was indignant, and his face was contorted with anger. Afterward
he began to speak excitedly,--

"Hast thou thought that I would deny that I wish to stay here to see
her? A fool would have divined that, even had I denied it. But I will
not try to take her by force any longer. I will tell thee more: if she
will not stay here, I will tear the bandages with this sound hand from
my arm, will take neither food nor drink; let my death fall on thee and
thy brethren. Why hast thou nursed me? Why hast thou not commanded to
kill me?" He grew pale from weakness and anger.

Lygia, who had heard all from the other room and who was certain that
Vinicius would do what he promised, was terrified. She would not have
him die for anything. Wounded and defenceless, he roused in her
compassion, not fear. Living from the time of her flight among people
in continual religious enthusiasm, thinking only of sacrifices,
offerings, and boundless charity, she had grown so excited herself
through that new inspiration, that for her it took the place of house,
family, lost happiness, and made her one of those Christian maidens who,
later on, changed the former soul of the world. Vinicius had been too
important in her fate, had been thrust too much on her, to let her
forget him. She had thought of him whole days, and more than once had
begged God for the moment in which, following the inspiration of
religion, she might return good for his evil, mercy for his persecution,
break him, win him to Christ, save him. And now it seemed to her that
precisely that moment had come, and that her prayers had been heard.

She approached Crispus therefore with a face as if inspired, and
addressed him as though some other voice spoke through her,--"Let him
stay among us, Crispus, and we will stay with him till Christ gives him